Carrie Saum

We celebrated our six-week date-a-versary on Lance's birthday. All he wanted was to binge-watch Scrubs and cuddle and eat cake in bed. If there was any question that he was my soulmate before that moment, it was laid to rest. We stayed in bed, watched TV, and ate cake. It was pretty magical, if I'm honest.

As white feminists, we have an absolute and undeniable responsibility to seek out perspectives of marginalized people and gain understanding.

I cracked the sugar crust, took a bite, and then I actually DID cry. Huge, crocodile tears because it was good and this food tasted the way the city felt. It was home.

Instead of making lunch once a day, I make it once every three days. It saves on energy, brain power, and I don't have to figure out feeding myself in my janky kitchen more often than absolutely necessary.

Here’s a crash course on self-talk. Self-talk is the voice in your head, the invisible responder, the captain of your brain ship.

I’ve paired cauliflower with my own vegan Harissa cream concoction for added depth of flavor, and enjoyment. Oh, and a fulfillment of the milky void.

Summer is officially upon us, and with it comes epic family vacation plans sure to generate tales of your family’s (mis)adventures for years to come.

We are in the midst of buying a house.

It was a life-altering mouthgasm of flavor explosions, and I totally wanted to pack my bags for India and Bali to have my own Eat Pray Love experience.

Awash in the postpartum anxiety, I felt glued to the couch, unable to mobilize myself to get anything done except the bare basics of being a present.