Carrie Saum

The country is kind of obsessed with KonMari. I get it. Truly, I do.

Visiting my family in the Sierra Nevada foothills is one of the great pleasures of my life. I get to work, cook, and play while my amazing folks keep an eye on my kid. My inspiration and productivity skyrocket when I'm able to step away from my version of the daily grind and get a little refocused and centered. The food I make tastes a little better, and I move a little easier without a three-year-old constantly in tow.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Go forth and get Christmas AF, and enjoy the absurdity of this magical season. Happy holidays!

Next, juice your blood oranges. Or skip this and buy the juice from the spendy little corner market that sells $8 fair trade chocolate made from cocoa beans harvested purely through meditative thoughts generated by unionized zen monkeys in Thailand. They also sell blood orange juice. You’ll find it next to the $15 cashew milk.

Family is family and long after this president is out of office. Here is how I intend to keep my relationship even though my family loves Trump.

Not only was TV working as part of my parenting routine, we also unashamedly used it as a babysitter. Yes, you read that correctly!

What do you do when you're provided with a bunch of winter squash? You make soup. You make veggie bowls. You make coconut curry butternut squash mash!

Can we talk about self-care for a hot minute?

I kind of hate it.

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

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.