Category Archives: Aging

A day in La Antigua, Guatemala

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Our driver took us for a day trip to Antigua today. Antigua is the third capital of Guatemala, from 1543 to 1773, and is famous for its Baroque-style architecture from that period. It has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site since then and is the capital of the Sacatepequez Department (or state). You can feel the aura of Spanish colonial times while walking the cobbled streets here. A number of ruins have survived that you can visit, as well as plazas with large fountains and multiple cathedrals. The city is flanked by multiple volcanos, including Agua Volcano, Fuego Volcano, and Acatenango Volcano. Antigua, like the town of San Juan La Laguna, is also colorful and very picturesque. It definitely had the most number of tourists of all the areas we have visited thus far on this trip.

One thing I will say about cobbled streets: they are absolutely NOT ideal for a stroller. I am not even completely certain I would call all of these cobbled streets “cobbled.” A lot of the “cobbles” look like they were just broken stones or rocks that were never properly repaired, which is fine if you are going for an old colonial feel, but pretty terrible if you are pushing a wheeled device. We also walked up about 10-15 minutes to Cerro de la Cruz, a beautiful view point of Antigua and its volcanoes. The cobbled streets and the steps to get up to this viewpoint prevented us from letting Kaia sit in the stroller for most of this visit to Antigua, and she was definitely not a happy camper. She demanded all day to sit in the stroller and would whine and whinge endlessly when we told her she couldn’t sit on it. This meant she had to walk more, which most definitely tired her out, but at least it meant she was active and would sleep well in the evening. I have a video of her protesting walking up to the viewpoint, as well as several videos of Chris running away with the stroller while Kaia is trying to catch up to sit on it. I hope these make for future laughs when she is older and can look back on her younger self, refusing to move.

Another thing about being a toddler mom, or a mother in general: I think I just have to keep telling and reminding myself that it doesn’t matter how much I do or what I do or sacrifice for my child… because no matter what, they will never “repay” me to match it (mind you, I never expected this anyway), nor will they ever express the “gratitude” that we may think we deserve. Every time I asked Kaia to pose and take a picture with Daddy, she was happy to do so. She would pose, smile, and look at me and my phone taking the photo. Multiple times when Chris attempted to photograph me with Kaia, she refused, yelling, screaming, and crying. She said she didn’t want to take a photo with me. Chris got several classic shots of my posing and smiling, with Kaia very visibly screaming and/or attempting to run away from me.

It’s okay. I accept it. Sometimes, I laugh it off. Other times, I actually do feel a little hurt. It doesn’t matter what a mother does, but a child will never fully, completely appreciate it, even after s/he may have their own child in the future. I am sure my own mother feels the same way about me. And the cycle continues. C’est la vie.

Injured hamstring, the importance of exercise, and increasing stubbornness and “fixed mindset” as we age

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Since college, I’ve regularly exercised. I was not very targeted about what I did, but I always did some kind of physical activity regularly. Once I started working full time after college, I got a gym membership and went to the gym for a rigorous workout anywhere from 3-5 times per week. I dabbled in different exercise and yoga studios. But it wasn’t until I was 27 when I started being more regimented about when I went to the gym (early morning on weekdays before work), and more regular about what types of exercise I did. And then, it wasn’t until two years ago when I weaned off breastfeeding that I started listening to my body in terms of what I liked and did not like (I generally dislike HIIT workouts), and found what really worked for me (low impact, pilates, barre, light weights) versus what other people (e.g. trainers, exercise guides) said would work for me (heavy weights, HIIT). This is a long winded way of saying: it took me a long time (so, my entire adult life for the last 21 years?!) to get comfortable with what kind of exercise I’d like that would work for me: fitness has most definitely been a journey and not a destination.

I exercise because I know it’s good for me, and it also makes me feel really good. I am always more alert and focused after exercise. I sleep better when I have worked out that day. I feel more agile, flexible, and nimble when I’ve worked out. I can feel a huge difference in my body when a few days have passed and I haven’t done any rigorous workout; it’s actually one thing I really look forward to when we get back from a long trip away. In the long term, I know exercise has helped my overall health; regular physical activity helps combat the inevitable loss of bone density and muscle mass as we all age. And given I am turning 40 next January, I am very cognizant of the fact that once I get there, I’ll begin to lose bone minerals faster than I can create new bone minerals, and thus, my bones will eventually become more porous and brittle.

What concerns me, though, is how inactive my in-laws and my dad are. My dad is turning 77 this year; Chris’s dad turns 72 tomorrow. Chris’s mom is just a few years behind his dad. My dad is basically glued to his computer most days, watching endless YouTube videos and leading this extremely sedentary, sloth like lifestyle. I used to suggest exercise, then I stopped when I realized he was never going to change or listen to anything I said. My in-laws seem repelled by exercise; it’s almost like they are allergic to it or something. The mere mention of the gym, and Chris’s dad’s face goes a little off, as though he has smelled something foul. Chris’s mom finally got semi-coerced into a gym membership by Chris’s brother over a year ago; after an initial consultation there, she says she goes about three times a week. Chris’s dad has bristled at the fact that the gym isn’t cheap, but why should it be, especially given where they live? Plus, spending on the gym is spending on health. They are both happy to spend money on prescription drugs or over-the-counter drugs and vitamins/supplements, but they do not see that spending money on a gym membership is an investment in one’s health. Regarding the gym workouts, I have observed Chris’s mom while at our building gym during their visits: she barely does anything that would really challenge her, which would lead to change in her body or weight. Chris’s mom has insisted for years that exercise “just doesn’t work for her,” as in, it doesn’t help her lose weight, even though she’s never given herself a good, hard look in the mirror and realized that she’s simply not challenging herself enough when exercising. As they always say, “no pain, no gain.” I’m sure it can sound hurtful when Chris or I have said or hinted at this; this is where having an unbiased third party, like a trainer, would be ideal, because they’re only going to say it like it is. They have zero reason to say things to hurt you; they were hired to get you to a better place. I used to give suggestions when Chris’s mom would complain about weight and eating so much (especially with us, because I’m not really about to starve them while they are with us), but then I finally stopped last year when I realized she was doing little to nothing to be honest with herself and actually take action to improve what she keeps complaining about. Now, I just listen or ignore it and say little to nothing in response.

Last week, I injured my hamstring during exercise. I am not sure what I did wrong, but I do know that my left hamstring and IT band were burning when I walked up to 76th Street and back last week. I figured it was time to rest and recover. Later that evening, when I was doing a hamstring stretch, lying on the floor with a towel to lightly pull my foot down, Chris’s dad came over to ask what I was doing. I told him I hurt my hamstring while exercising, and he looks at me, puzzled. “Oh, you injured it during exercise? Then, why exercise at all?”

I explained in the shortest and calmest way possible that injuries happen all the time, but that was not a reason to stop exercising. That’s like saying, oh, you should never try anything if you fail, because in that case, what’s the point? There is a risk in almost everything and anything you do. But just because something may hurt or be unpleasant doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Plus, hello, concerns around bone density and muscle mass loss, especially for them because they have both led very inactive lives?!

After a while, I just don’t think these conversations are even worth having. While we are all getting older, they are in their late sixties and early seventies, showing no signs of adapting a growth mindset anytime soon. They are unlikely to change their ways with exercise or anything in that realm. So I just smile and nod when they say these ridiculous things about how “exercise doesn’t work” or that they don’t have time to exercise or question whether a gym membership is worth the money because it’s clear nothing I will say will either agree with them or change them. So while I don’t think Chris’s parents and mine have a lot in common, what they all most certainly have in common is that they are all very, very much fixed in their ways. I wonder if I will be that way when I am my late sixties/early seventies, where Kaia is lecturing me about something she thinks I should do for my health but have neglected… I hope I can get to be that age where it could even be a possibility.

The times when tough love is necessary: when you make the same mistakes during your workout twice

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As long as I’ve been living in our current building, I’ve had a friendly relationship with our building gym trainer. He’s a trainer who works at multiple sites under the same building management company and also has his own personal training business. We have gotten along and had some interesting conversations over the years. Sometimes, when he has a free moment and sees I am struggling with something or could improve my form, he will stop and help me. He’s not officially my trainer; I’ve never paid him (though I did give him a Christmas tip this last year), but he’s given me endless good advice and is just an overall fun, smart, good person to have around when you’re exercising.

Currently, I’m wrapping up a strength training program via my Alo Moves app, and yesterday, the session had some kettle bell-like movements. About five years ago, I injured my lower back using kettle bells. After that incident, I decided to swear them off, and I haven’t used them since. I told our trainer about this then, and he told me it was most definitely a form issue. He showed me the movement and the parts to focus on. But I shook it off and just avoided them like the plague. Then this week, I figured since it had been a while that I could revisit the kettle bell motion. Well, I messed up once again, even after five years: I woke up this morning with a back that just… did not feel aligned, and I knew immediately what the culprit was. I wasn’t in pain, and there was no clear tweak or pinch, but I definitely felt like I was walking around with something crooked in my lower back. I did lots of stretching and twisting to try to get my back in line.

I walked into the gym this morning and told him, “I’m never using kettle bells ever again.” He gave me a concerned look, but he was in a training session with a trainee at the time. I got on a treadmill for my cardio session. Once he was done and I was near the end of my cardio session, he walked over to me and stared me dead in the eye. He snapped his fingers and motioned for me to get off the treadmill, stat.

With that fierce look in his eyes, I knew that shit was getting real. And I had a feeling that if I didn’t get off that treadmill in that instant, he would have probably stopped my machine and pulled me off.

First, he told me he knew what I was doing wrong. And when I did the kettle bell (or, well, what I thought was the kettle bell) motion, he confirmed what his suspicion was: my form was wrong. And when he observed more and touched my abs, he declared that not only was my form wrong, but I wasn’t engaging my core enough. “A kettle bell swing is a hinge, NOT a squat!” I tried again. “What did I say about the squat? No squat. HINGE. Too much bend in the knees. You need to feel this in your hamstrings. Squeeze that core. SQUEEZE. IT. I NEED THOSE HIPS MORE SOLID!” And then, if that wasn’t bad enough to identify two things I was doing wrong, he said he could tell from my hips that I was neglecting my pre-exercise glute-strengthening exercises he taught me that he insisted I had to do as a warm-up before any, any exercise moving forward. Geez, he’s like my mom; I can’t hide anything from him…

“This is not just to address an injury: this is to warm your body up so that you have a strong foundation,” he admonished me as I sheepishly admitted I hadn’t done the pre-exercises in a month. “As we approach 40, different things in our bodies just get a little weaker, and we have to give them extra love to prevent injury. You have to focus, focus, focus, engage your core, and do the pre-warm up before all else. This is for your health, your wellness. Don’t just mindlessly exercise without thought. You need to focus!”

He said we’re all guilty of mindlessly exercising, of not engaging our core, of getting lazy with warming up. But we needed to do this things even more as we get older. He’s totally right. I probably needed this scolding, this “tough love” wake-up call to call out that even if I am working out 5-6 days a week, none of that really matters if my focus is off or if my form is incorrect or if my stability is a bit wobbly. Sometimes, we really need to get back to basics to get to where we want to be. And it’s really easy to forget the basics when you’ve been exercising so regularly for decades.

“Are you an old lady?!” The candle tunneling saga takes a turn.

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One of the things I looked forward to upon our return home this month was my nightly winter ritual of lighting a scented candle and reading for about an hour before bedtime. I hate the cold weather, and I strongly dislike short days, but I do enjoy cozying up in bed to a good book with the heat on, my covers over me, and a flickering and beautifully fragrant candle to soothe my senses.

Unfortunately, all of that sensual, soothing “me time” came to a halt one night last week when I realized that my semi new Voluspa Saijo Persimmon candle was starting to tunnel. How was this possible? Candle tunneling is the candle lover’s worst nightmare. I did all the right things: I made sure there was no draft in the room. I burned it for a minimum amount of time to allow the wax to melt evenly. I had the wick trimmed to the right length. What the heck was I doing wrong? So I immediately did a search on my phone to see what the culprit could be.

Unfortunately, it seems that candles do not like cold temperatures, either. A high quality scented candle prefers an ambient room temperature of somewhere between 65-75 F. What this means is: if a candle is lit while sitting in a temperature far below that (and yes, the thermostat in our rooms say that without the heat on, it’s somewhere between 40-50 F; we don’t keep the heat on in rooms we’re not using!), the candle fails to generate enough heat to melt the wax evenly. The heat then primarily melts the wax closest to the wick, leaving the edges of the candle solid and not burning properly. This uneven burning results in tunneling.

So what was I supposed to do, then, to prevent this from happening again — was I expected to turn the heat on in the room where I wanted to burn the candle and “prepare” the candle for lighting? That seemed so ridiculous. I get it when you want to turn the heat on in a room that you are preparing to enter, or for your spouse or even your dog or cat. But now I have to turn the heat on to prep the room.. for my CANDLE?

I was complaining about this to Chris earlier this week, and he gave me this bewildered look. “What are you, an old lady?” he exclaimed. “You’re researching causes for candle tunneling prevention?!”

He just doesn’t get it. When you have a fancy (read: expensive) and much loved candle which creates just the right room ambiance for you for your nightly bedtime reading ritual, you have to take care of it. You can’t just expect it to fix itself. I didn’t appreciate fancy candles ten years ago. But now, I wholly embrace them and everything they represent. Do I acknowledge this is a #firstworldproblem? Of course. But I have to take care of all my belongings!

I’m 39 today.

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A former boyfriend of one of my best friends used to say that Asians always look good, that they age well… until they don’t. He had this fictional graph where the X-axis showed one’s age, and the Y-axis was “good looks.” Asians were high on the chart as they aged… until they hit somewhere between 55-60. At that point, their “good looks” would come crashing down and they’d basically become a pile of leathery skin, endless wrinkles, liver spots, and grey hair.

I think I know what he was trying to say. The truth is that when the average person thinks of aging, they immediately think of things like white hair and wrinkles. But “aging” shows up differently for non-White people like Asians. For people who look like me, the things that stare back at you in the mirror, reminding you that you are no longer in your teens or 20s, are things like this: sun spots, freckles, teeny tiny fine lines, less fat on your face (yes, really), which means that your bones stick out more, and you start noticing “angles” on your face, like around your eyes and cheeks, that you never saw before. Of course, Asians will wrinkle. And of course, we will get grey/white hairs, as I already have some. But those are the things I see when I scrutinize my face now at age 39 that I never really took notice of until this time last year.

My metabolism is slowing down. Since I weaned off breastfeeding two years ago, I’ve never been able to totally work off the extra belly fat right in my lower abdomen; the flat stomach I once enjoyed seems to be just slightly out of my reach no matter how much cardio, exercise, and strength training I do. I’ll need to rethink my strategy on dealing with this in 2025. Sometimes now, when I eat very spicy hot food, which I love, I get more mucus in my throat — the same annoying side effect my mom has been telling me she’s been experiencing as she’s aging. That deters her from wanting to eat hot food, which she always loved and grew up loving.

But it’s all okay. I’d like to think I am smarter now, wiser, that I see life with more shades of colors and all its nuances. Unlike in my early life, there’s really no such thing as something or anything that is all good or all bad, all “hero” or all “villain.” Every person in our life is part villain, part hero, whether we want to admit it out loud or not. I have more perspective now. I’ve never had a single moment when I wished I were in my teens or 20s again. I like having more money and more financial stability. I’m a lot more confident in literally everything I do, from the way I walk on the street to how I conduct myself at work. I tolerate far less bullshit, abuse, and questionable treatment from literally everyone and anyone. It takes time to be comfortable in one’s skin. And so here I am, in my 40th year, happy to grab life by the balls and make sure that every moment is a moment worth living and speaking my truth.

I’m so fortunate and privileged to have the life I’ve had, full of meaningful, fun, vibrant experiences, travels, people, and tastes. Sometimes, I cannot believe how much fun I have had in my life, what good fortunes I’ve been able to enjoy, the kindnesses I’ve experienced all around from those closest to me as well as total strangers in everyday life and struggles (like the ones who stop and try to coax my child when she refuses to walk and wants to lie on the dirty sidewalk…). I hope that things will only get better from here on out, even with all my sun spots, fine lines, and grey hairs coming in. And I can only hope that my daughter will appreciate me for all of it.

Everyone’s aging this Christmas… and every day of the year

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It’s Christmas day today, and Chris’s 43rd birthday. Chris has been telling everyone that he’s been loving his 40s and that his younger brother, who is turning 40 next September, should be embracing this new era of his life. Chris’s aunt and uncle hosted Christmas at their house. We did as we usually did and had lunch/dinner potluck style, so everyone brought a bunch of dishes to share. Given that we had a good chunk of the family away in Canada this year, there were fewer people to eat the food, so there was probably far more food than we really needed. In addition, some of the kids are slightly picky eaters, so Chris’s aunt made some plainer dishes like penne with tomato sauce and sausages in buns to ensure they ate.

Chris’s aunt just turned 70. She told me that she is feeling her age: simple tasks that were easy to do make her tired now. She has had her three grandsons over more often for babysitting because her older son’s place is undergoing some unanticipated renovations due to water damage; sometimes, she’s even had them overnight. She’s gotten stressed feeding them because they are so picky; one of them claims he’s allergic to vegetables or anything green. But she said that with age, she’s also realized she has to just let things go. “Let them!” she’s said to me about her new attitude when people say or do things she doesn’t like or she can’t stand. She said that there’s a podcast she wants to listen to that is literally called, “Let them.” His aunt said that hosting Christmas and events is tiring, but someone has to do it, and she still wants people to enjoy. So it’s worth it in the end. Though this year, she said, she wanted to make things a bit simpler and use disposable cups and plates. “It’s just one less thing to fuss over!” she said. If it’s easier for everyone, why not? Sure, it’s less environmentally friendly, but it’s just a couple days a year.

It makes me wonder, though, when it’s really our generations’ turn to do the bulk of the work for “hosting.” I think it really should be… NOW. Granted, Chris and I don’t live here, so it’s not like we could do it (plus, we already cook a big chunk of the dishes for the gatherings). But I think that given our parents’ generation is getting older and many are already in their 70s, it really should be more on us to do the work for hosting, whether it’s using our spaces (really, Chris’s cousins’ or Chris’s brother’s), setting up, organizing, laying out the food spreads, cleaning up. It’s why whenever Chris’s parents host, I try to do what I can to help set up, cook, and clean up. It especially makes up for the fact that their youngest son doesn’t do any of the above and just rolls in like he’s a guest. Sometimes, I can’t understand why it seems like everyone in the family of our generation is helpful when their parents host, literally every year and every time… except for Chris’s younger brother. Where did things go wrong here?

Friends you make in your youth vs. friends in your adulthood

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One of my good friends from my last company has been in town this week for work, so I met her for breakfast this morning after over a year of not seeing her. We talked a lot about work, the tech industry in general, layoffs and disguised PIPs (“performance improvement plans”), health insurance, politics, and family. I still remember when I met this friend over a Zoom call for the first time about seven years ago. I had been at the company for about six months; she had started a few months after me. But as soon as we started talking, I knew we clicked. It was like love at first conversation. I remember loving the sound of her boisterous laugh and loving how unrestrained it was. We were both loud, opinionated, laughed a lot, and loved food, cooking, and travel. She was like my West Coast equivalent on my team at the time. And since then, we’ve always confided in each other regarding all the work bullshit and hypocrisies around us. We no longer work at the same company, but we’ve stayed in touch. She’s one of a small handful of former colleagues from my last company who I still chat with and see. 

I was thinking a lot about friends I’ve made in my adulthood vs. friends I’ve made in childhood (K-12), and especially thinking about friends I’ve made in the last seven or so years of my life. The friends I’ve made in adulthood, as you’d predict, have values that more align to what I have. Relatively speaking, they are no-nonsense, ‘say what they think and mean’ people and don’t really tolerate much bullshit. They don’t say something to your face and say something different behind it. My good friends from childhood avoid confrontation like the plague; my adulthood friends confront stupid shit head on and stop it before it spirals out of control. They’re all striving to do something important with their lives and contribute to society. A lot of the friends I have kept from my childhood days are friends because of legacy; if I met them today, we’d unlikely “click” and become good friends. But I think all that is to say that different friends serve different purposes in your life. The friends you meet today and spend at most a couple hours a month with are less likely (due to time constraints) to reach the same comfort level of friends you’ve spent literally hundreds of hours with during your childhood; the context is just different. I’m lucky to have a happy and healthy selection of friends from both childhood and adulthood to keep me grounded. 

New friends in your 30s – an investment of time and energy

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This late afternoon, I met up with a new friend I met at the Sambal Lady’s Rendang Hang in mid October. While that event was fun and the food was delicious, I had to balance all the food and the bits of socializing with running around and making sure Kaia didn’t get her hands on anyone’s beer or ended up tearing all of Auria’s plants up. Kaia’s silliness and running around led me to the table of this friend that I ended up meeting with today. She clearly liked children, seemed friendly and outgoing, and like she could be someone I’d get along with. So after some chatting interspersed with running after Kaia, I suggested we exchange contact information (on Instagram first, just in case she thought I was some freak) and maybe meet up in the future. 

We met at a cafe in Nolita and had house-blended ube lattes while discussing the election, politics, life in multiple parts of the world, familial expectations, mental and physical health, college, work, family, and travel. We really packed a lot into almost 2.5 hours of conversation. I found the conversation really stimulating, like the kind of conversation I wish I had more of but don’t have the opportunity to have as much as I’d like given my remote work situation, child rearing, and general life responsibilities. Part of it is that I find it refreshing and stimulating to chat with people who work outside of my tech industry bubble; I learn about industries I have little to no exposure to, and that is always enjoyable and humbling to me. But the other part of it is that I love meeting people who have had very different experiences than my own in general. My friend has lived in four different countries throughout her life, and so she brings an interesting perspective to U.S. politics and also just life philosophy. 

I’m turning 39 in a couple months, and many would already consider me “middle aged.” As I’ve gotten older, especially into my 30s, I’ve realized how much harder it’s been to make friends. We don’t have the endless amounts of leisure time we once had while in school or during summers or school breaks. So now, when I meet people who I find genuinely interesting, even if it’s for just a few minutes, I’ve realized I should take the leap and suggest meeting up for a coffee or meal. The worst thing that could happen is they say no or ghost me, and well, I’m tough and confident enough in my own skin now to not let that bother me if it were to happen. Life is short, and I’ve thought about that more so at two specific junctures of my life: when Ed died, and then after I gave birth to Kaia. Our time should be spent with people we care about who we respect and want to spend time with, people who make us feel full and full of life. So, that’s what I am trying to do with the few new friends I have been lucky to make in the last several years — make a real effort to be in touch with them and spend time with them, getting to know them deeply. 

Losing hair – the areas of concern for aging men and women

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While on a customer call with a colleague this morning, we waited for our customer to join and made some small talk. My colleague asked how Kaia was doing since I told him that I had to pick her up early at school the previous day due to a fever she had. I shared with him that she was at home with us today, and Chris and I were tag teaming between meetings to care for her. He laughed and said, “Yeah, it never gets easier. And my kids are the reason I have bags under my eyes that won’t go away and far less hair on my head!” 

I told him that while all that may have a hint of truth to it, he and the male species were not alone in their hair loss. While men lose the hair on their head, women start losing hair in our eyebrows, I lamented. I was certainly not immune to this. In fact, I remembered that at some point in my mid-30s, I started plucking my eyebrows far less frequently… because the hairs just weren’t growing back, or were growing back far more slowly. I’d never had thick, well defined eyebrows in my life, but once my mid-30s hit and then pregnancy and childbirth, it’s like it’s been all downhill for my eyebrows ever since. 

He chuckled at my comment. “Yeah, but at least with women, you can just draw them back on and it can still look natural. Men can’t draw back the hairs on their head and make it look believable!” 

Well, touche. He wins. 

2024 is coming to a close, and there’s so much more food to make!

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I remember when I was young, and I used to think that each day, especially the crappy and boring days, were so, so long. And now, each year in my adulthood, I keep thinking time passes too quickly. It’s exactly as people say: the older you get, the quicker you think time goes by because so much has already happened in your life. The younger you are, the less that has happened in your life since you’ve lived fewer years, so time feels like it takes forever to pass.

I looked at the calendar late last week and was shocked to see that I have only four more weeks in New York for the remainder of this year. We’ll be in Europe Thanksgiving week. Then, we have barely one week left before we head to Australia for the Christmas season. My immediate thought was: What are all the things I need to get done before we leave for the Southern Hemisphere? And what else do I really want to cook before the end of the year? What do I want to use up in my freezer?!

For the last part, I know I wanted to make bread at least twice before the end of the year, so I started that process on Friday. I started my brioche dough, which I did 60% white flour, 40% whole wheat flour for variety/health (I mean, yeah... you CAN give brioche more nutrition by using whole grains, believe it or not!), on Friday night. I let it rest (and ferment) in the fridge until Sunday afternoon, when I rolled it out, proofed it a second time, then baked it last night. The house, as always, smelled like heaven, and for two weeks, we have fresh, homemade brioche to enjoy. I will likely freeze one loaf to either enjoy the week before we leave for Europe, or our only week here in December.

I also wanted to make shrimp scampi, so I have defrosted my wild gulf shrimp from Butcherbox in the fridge for tomorrow. I want to have some of our Borgatti’s porcini ravioli, and also make the Italian sausage from Calabria Pork Store in a pasta dish (with butternut squash?) before end of year. If I have time, I also want to try out a garlic knots recipe, maybe challah again if I’m feeling super ambitious with time. If I did that, I could freeze a challah loaf so that it’s ready for defrosting in January upon our return. So many possibilities!

Our freezer is stuffed. And I need to un-stuff it before we leave. A full freezer is always a sign of richness to me. So right now, I feel very, very rich. We’re very privileged to have a full freezer and pantry.