On a recent Sunday, my house was about to be full in the way my heart loves best. My three boys were home to celebrate their older brother Alexander's 26th birthday. Laughter, games and a big family meal in the making: enchiladas in the oven, nachos on the way. The nachos were a favorite of mine: pre-seasoned crumbled tofu, toasted in a pan with onions, garlic, and all the yummy nacho fixings. There was just one problem. The bag was frozen solid, a rock of tofu. And so, in a

Valentine’s Day, for some, means flowers and romance. For me, it’s a quiet ache that returns each year like a familiar tide. Valentine’s Day typically sells romantic love as the main course—loving couples, roses, reservations, a celebration of love, but also the idea that love is something we prove to others in a commercialized and materialistic way. I believe loving ourselves is like a seed, the quiet beginning where all love can bloom from—wether for partners, friends, fam