Carrie Saum

So, when your BFF moves into her first real home and her husband has a birthday at basically the same moment, you bake a cake. And not just any cake but a beautiful thing made of the best ingredients. You aim high, confident that you can come through for your BFF and celebrate her family's milestones with four spongy layers filled with thick raspberry preserves and succulent buttercream.

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

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.

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!

We are in the midst of buying a house.

Insisting on capability robs us of vulnerability. It robs us of the village we so desperately need. It creates resentment and mistrust. And most of all, it sets us up to fail.

Last month, I heard my kid say "I'm sorry" to a complete stranger at Target for no reason.

Cloud eggs are something entirely different. I was worried that these magical looking eggs would just turn to soppy, scary oven nightmares. But these are actually Alton Brown worthy alchemy breakfast wins.

Because here's the thing. Kindness is the antidote to the poison being pedaled by the Trumps of the world. Your anger is valid and important, and your despair should never be overlooked. And you can be all of the things, feel all of the feelings, ardently and vigorously defend the most vulnerable among us, say all of the words you need to say, and act with an undercurrent of kindness.

Friends. I have discovered something magical.