Not fully thinking through decisions before I launch myself into them is one of my best and worst characteristics (as my husband can attest).

It is, after all, how I found myself enrolled for a week of immersive French language classes in Bordeaux, France, followed by a weekend in Paris, all 100% solo.

I’ve traveled enough for work that dining on my own for a night or two feels cool in a “look at me, I’m an independent woman” sort of way.

However, 10 days in a foreign country completely on my own was a leap that didn’t truly sink in until my plane’s tires had left the runway.

I’ve had an inexplicable dream to learn French since childhood.

Maybe it was watching Beauty and the Beast for 10 straight hours on a tiny TV shoved between the front seats of our family Ford Aerostar on a long road trip?

Or could it be the 1997 song “Paris Holds the Key to Her Heart” from Anastasia?

It doesn’t matter. The weird, wonderful desires of your heart don’t need explanation. The fact that they exist is reason enough to chase them.

And thus, I found myself in Bordeaux, France, with a rented apartment, a week of French classes, and exactly zero contacts.

It’s one thing to spend a night on your own—girl dinner, trashy TV, and a bottle of rosé, please!

It’s another to have only yourself for company for 10 days in a country where you’re not fluent in the language.

You all, I had a BLAST.

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I’m tempted to write “I learned so much about myself” or, “I found clarity in my life,” or something else that sounds actualized and noble, but the truth is…I drank wine, ate cheese, and struggled through easy French novels while noshing on anchovies and butter.

It was fabulously self-indulgent. I offer no apologies, because there is nothing for which I need to be sorry.

If you’ve been contemplating a solo trip but are hesitant about doing it on your own, I have a few tips and observations that I learned during my 10 days abroad.

I hope these make you feel empowered, whether you’re planning a full-on vacation, or are simply working up the nerve to dine out on your own.

Solo Travel Tips

Look Cute

OK this might sound ridiculous but go with me here—when you like how you’re dressed, you feel confident, and when you feel confident, you’re more likely to engage with—and be engaged by—others.

Interactions with strangers were one of the highlights of my trip, because they brought many surprising and life-giving interactions.

You can see everything I packed HERE. It all fit in this carry-on (it’s the largest model security allows; yes, I researched.)

Give Yourself Some Structure

As much as I’m enamored with the idea of myself as a free spirit, I am so totally not! I can’t remember the last vacation I took without a spreadsheet.

I find spreadsheets relaxing—or rather, I find having a spreadsheet much more relaxing than not having one.

You definitely do not need to make a spreadsheet, but I did find it tremendously helpful to have one planned activity each day.

The weekend in Bordeaux before my classes started, I booked a cooking class on Saturday and a walking tour on Sunday.

Monday through Friday I had language classes in the morning, then could explore in the afternoon.

Your plans can be as simple as visiting the same coffee shop every morning or attending a yoga class.

Educational experiences are especially easy to do solo, because you have built-in interaction, and people tend to be especially friendly.

Celebrate Your Weird

I spent hours (literally) on barstools, contemplating how I got there. My younger self, who desperately wanted to be “popular” and didn’t like herself very much, would have been awestruck that in 25 years, she’d be ordering wine in a different language in freaking France.

However you landed on your solo vacation, GO YOU.

Put Your Phone Away (Really Away)

This. Is. HARD.

It’s so much easier to be at a table by yourself, whip out your phone, then text a friend and giggle.

You feel connected, AND you simultaneously send the message to the people around you that “why yes, I’m by myself, but don’t worry. I have lots of friends and am very busy and important.”

I gleaned so much from forcing myself to leave my phone in my purse, which I confess was not so much on my own volition as observing the French.

In the 10+ meals I ate out, I rarely saw a cell phone on the table, both with other solo diners and in groups.

Flipping your phone screen down at the table does not count. If you can see it, it’s commanding mental and emotional real estate. Put it completely away.

On my last night in France, I was forced to turn off my phone. The battery was on the verge of death, and I needed it to navigate my way home.

With zero possibility of mobile balm, I noticed so many details that I would have missed otherwise: the seven-year-old young girl who housed an entire plate of deviled eggs; the small flowers carved into the crown molding; sultry stares between two of the servers; the elderly couple who passed every plate back and forth and are basically my goalz.

Not having access to a phone also forced me to really settle into myself. Remember when we used to just wait in line at the grocery store, without scrolling our phone to make the time “productive”? I’m a believer that we need more idle brain time.

Consider a Book or Journal

By my last night, I truly savored my dinners (which in France take hours) without the need to distract myself. At the beginning, however, I really enjoyed having a book to read at the bar while sipping a Negroni, or a journal to scribble in while waiting for my appetizer.

The image of myself writing at the table makes me giggle. I can imagine the thoughts of the staff: Who does she think she is? Hemingway??

You Put Out the Vibe

My most memorable night of the trip was a Tuesday, when I almost went home after grabbing a glass of wine and plate of cheese for l’apéro (short for l’​​appératif, which is kind of like French happy hour).

By this point in the trip, I’d been eating out a lot and reasoned it would be better to do something simple in my apartment kitchen.

Deciding I had plenty of time to reset my eating routine once I got back to the U.S., I grabbed a spot at the bar of a well-loved local restaurant.

Fast forward almost three hours later, and that would be me, taking a shot with the bartender, then a second with the entire kitchen staff.

(This French exchange was hilarious by the way. He asked me to take a shot with him, and I had to ask him to repeat himself multiple times, despite the fact that the word “shot” in French is also “shot,” but with a French accent.)

And just when I thought I was so full I might need to unbutton my pants, they sent over dessert.

Why, you may ask? I can’t say for certain, but I think it’s because I went into that dinner with a “YES!” attitude. I chatted with the bartender, ordered without restraint, and positively licked my plate clean.

If you are open and you let yourself have fun, I really do believe that positive energy comes back to you.

I wasn’t expecting that energy to be in the form of a shot of rum mixed with Luxardo cherry liqueur, but here we are. The next morning was a struggle, but it was worth it. Or, as the bartender taught me to say in French after I’d finished the slice of salted caramel chocolate tart, ça vaut le coup.

Go Somewhere You Don’t Have Too Many Memories

The point of the trip where I struggled most was my first night in Paris. I booked a hotel down the street from where Ben and I spent a month living in 2014, and I found that walking those streets without him left me feeling lonelier than at any other point of the trip.

I bounced back pretty quickly, but in retrospect, I would have chosen a neighborhood where I had fewer memories to leave myself more space to make new ones on my own.

Others might take a different view and find comfort in being somewhere super familiar, but for me, the streets of St.-Germain-des-Prés were a bit *too* saturated with memories of Ben and me together to feel completely right on my own.

Walk Everywhere You Can

Strolling past bustling storefronts and sidewalk cafes, even when I wasn’t the one sitting at the tables, felt oddly social.

If you’re the kind of person who’d prefer not to make contact with another human for a few days, this might not be necessary for you, but I was surprised by the feeling of connection that consistently passing people on the street added to my day.

Be Curious

Consider yourself an explorer, on a quest to learn all the little details of your surroundings. How would that scarf I’ve been ogling every time I walk by the shop near my hotel actually look on me?

If I go into the chocolate shop, will they give me a free sample? (Happily, yes! Also, buy yourself a little box, you earned it).

When you’re continually learning even the littlest of things, the trip turns into discovery, and discovery is life-giving.

Be Safe

This one might be obvious, but I did want to mention it. Traveling alone as a woman comes with its own set of concerns.

I made certain that I booked an Airbnb (Bordeaux) and a hotel (Paris) in safe neighborhoods and on major streets, so there was always a safe amount of traffic nearby.

Outside of that, basic street smarts go a long way. Don’t blast your headphones when you’re walking home at night, be aware of your surroundings, and make sure you’re wearing your purse securely.

Thank the Universe for Your Awesome Life

I am SO LUCKY that I have the resources, a flexible job, and a supportive partner to take an entire week for myself like this. Even in the moments when I felt a little lonely, I never lost sight of that privilege.

For the majority of the trip, I walked around with a massive grin on my face (the more reserved French probably thought I was nuts).

Actively practicing gratitude also made me more present.

The crunch in my ears as I tore into the end of a baguette, too excited to wait until I got home to take a bite.

The tiny pink buds promising spring flowers in the public garden.

The old men sitting side by side at the same cafe tables, reading the paper like they’ve probably done every morning for the last 20 years.

It will expand your heart, if you but pay attention.

Have you ever taken a solo trip? If yes, where did you go?

And if not, would you like to? And where would you go? Let’s chat, I’d love to hear from you!

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Skiing in Japan has been on our bucket list ever since we got into the sport a few years ago, and not only because the country fascinated us the first time we visited.

Japan is world-renowned for both the quality of its fluffy, powdery snow (a.k.a. “Japow”), and for its quantity, especially in January (a.k.a. “Japan-uary” among powder enthusiasts).

Basically, if you are a powderhound like my husband, there is perhaps no better place to be right now than the epicenter of it all, Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido. It’s getting hammered.

Skiing is not for the faint of heart. It involves equipment (lots of it), hauling yourself outside in all of your gear, being in the cold, and putting yourself through challenges, both physical and mental.

I love skiing because it gives me a reason to be active outside in the winter, and (as long as I feel safe), it’s a beautiful, energizing way to spend a few hours with Mother Nature.

It’s also a lovely way to spend time with friends, since there’s plenty of time to chat while you’re riding the chair lift.

Ben loves skiing (and more recently, snowboarding) for its sense of adventure and exploration, and to physically push himself. The man lives for an adrenaline rush.

Case in point: our scuba trip to Aruba (some notable background context for this post if you haven’t read it yet).

It’s our third winter living in Park City, and I’ve hit a pretty frustrating place with my skiing. I’m too good to be content staying on easy groomers all day, every day, but I’m not yet good enough to tackle steep runs with confidence.

To be clear, I do not expect to be amazing at anything requiring athletic coordination. In one of my favorite Substacks I’ve ever written, I made a case for being bad at activities and choosing to do them anyway.

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Conceptually, I understand that the only way I will get better at skiing is by doing harder runs again and again, and that I will mess up in the process.

This trip to Japan, however, gave me more self-doubt about my ability to progress with skiing than I’ve had in a long time.

After you’ve flown halfway around the world to pursue an activity isn’t the most ideal time to question whether or not that activity is meant for you, yet a few days into our trip, that’s where I found myself mentally.

Physically, this is where I found myself:

Ben, who so badly would love us to enjoy this hobby together for more than just the on-mountain lunch, encourages me nonstop.

The man bought me boot heaters, a heated vest, heated mittens, and heated socks to keep me warm and happy while doing it. Then, he always carries spare batteries with him in case one dies and I get cold.

He also likes to give pointers, which come from a good place, but (as most women will tell you when their partner volunteers unrequested advice) it drives me nuts.

This escalated so much during our trip that halfway in, I couldn’t even handle him watching me ski, let alone speaking to me about it.

I felt performance anxiety, not because he told me I had to improve (he didn’t), but because I wanted to improve for him, as well as for our more experienced friends who we ski with regularly in Park City.

No matter how nice and patient everyone is, it sucks to always be the weak link.

To be fair to myself, skiing in deep powder like we did in Japan is challenging even for experienced skiers. It’s physically demanding, you can’t see your skis most of the time, and it requires different techniques to balance and turn.

And yet, snow sports enthusiasts talk about powder with abject euphoria bordering on reverence.

In fact, many people (Ben included) willingly strap their skis to their backs and hike for hours to a remote part of a mountain for the ecstasy of a single run in deep, untouched powder.

Instagram accounts like @powderhounds and @thepowguide amass followers salivating over blissful runs in untracked snow.

Meanwhile, as I lay in a pillow of snow after yet another fall, I had to ask myself: What am I missing?

Or perhaps the better question: How long am I going to keep at this?

Skiing is supposed to be fun. I’ve accepted that I’m going to have to endure a lot of Type 2 fun to access the Type 1 fun that Ben and many of our friends experience on harder runs, but at a certain point, I start to question whether or not I should just call it a day and stick to the easy stuff.

For now, I’ve decided getting better is worth it. I’m not done improving yet.

As intense as skiing can be (for me), it does have a zen aspect, because it requires 100% of my focus. If you could read my thoughts, they’d go something like this:

Bend your knees! Flex hips! More! Chest downhill! Ack! Get your legs together! Crap crap! Feet together! Agh, yikes! Separate the upper and lower body! Sh**! Knees! AHHHH!

Why do I do this to myself?

I think it’s because, when I finally do connect some good turns or finish an especially challenging run, it really feels amazing.

My version of “amazing” will never be the same as Ben’s, and I hope he can understand that one day.

He lives for a slight edge of terror and the feeling of unease that comes with progress, whereas I loathe but tolerate nervousness only as a necessary aspect of improvement.

I do believe I improved in Japan. I skied some pretty insane powder, avoided injury, and left feeling like I’d come back next January in a heartbeat.

I’m still sorting out what I want my ultimate goal with skiing to be (or if I even need one?).

In the meantime, I’m not afraid to set limits.

I came in from the hill a few hours earlier than Ben did every day, took days off of skiing when I felt like it, and I spent plenty of time in the onsen (a Japanese hot spring-fed bathhouse/relaxation area).

I also love skiing for the culture around it (read: cozy fires, cocktails, fairisle). I made a point to end each ski day with a cocktail and book by the fire, which felt equal parts ritual and reward.

Since this post is getting long, I’ll share more about our trip (including eating seaweed for breakfast and being naked with a bunch of strangers) in an upcoming post.

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Growing up, I was a voracious reader, often staying awake until the wee hours of the morning to finish series I adored like Harry Potter, The Golden Compass, Nancy Drew, The Boxcar Children, and Redwall.

I still relish the escape of reading, losing myself in everything from romantasy to historical fiction, with the occasional dose of self-help.

These days, it’s much more attainable for me to do audiobooks, which I firmly believe count as reading, even if certain, more traditional bookworms—ahem, my husband and honey, let’s not bring that up again—disagree. I use a variety of listening platforms, which I’ll share below.

I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions (THIS is what I prefer to do instead), so while I don’t have a specific reading goal for 2026, I’m pretty happy with how 2025 ended.

I sourced my 2026 picks from book-focused social media accounts, popular online book clubs (like GMA), literature award-winners, and Goodreads (you can follow me here).

Read on for my list, plus My Top 10 Books of 2025!

Audiobook Resources

• Libro.fm - My favorite alternative to Audible. It’s the same price ($14.99/month for 1 credit, with each credit equaling 1 book), but the profit supports your local bookstore of choice, instead of Amazon.

• Audible - Currently offering $0.99/month for the first 3 months! Owned by Amazon, it has the largest selection of books. I use it on the occasions that the title I want isn’t available on Libro.fm or Spotify (or I’m out of Spotify listening hours).

• Chirp - A great way to score audiobook deals. You fill out your preferences, like genre and author, and it sends an email alert when books that fit go on sale.

• Spotify Premium - If you are a premium subscriber, you receive 15 listening hours/month. I always start here to see if the book I want is available. Heads up: if you exceed the listening hours, you’ll either need to wait until they refresh or top up starting at $12.99 for 10 hours. Also note, you do not own the book to relisten, the way you do if you purchase it from Libro.fm, Audible, or Chirp.

• Libby - Borrow audiobooks for free from your local library. The selection will vary based on your library, and waitlists can be long.

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My 2026 Reading List

The Correspondent

This one came up over and over on lists of 2025 reader favorites, and many of you recommended it as well. I am intrigued by the narration style—the story is told through the letters of an older, feisty woman over many years of her life.

The Frozen River

Cheating a bit because I just finished this one. WINNER! Historical fiction based on the true story of a 1780s midwife who gets wrapped up in a murder trial in a small Maine town. Compelling characters and narrative.

Project Hail Mary

From the author of The Martian, a sci-fi about a man alone in space trying to save humanity. People who don’t usually like sci-fi keep recommending this, and Ben loved it (a rarity for fiction, he’s picky).

Are You Mad at Me?

I like to get in a periodic dose of self-improvement, and, as a chronic people-pleaser always trying to care less about what people think, this book feels right for me.

Buckeye

Another that keeps showing up on best-of lists everywhere I look. It follows two families from WWII through the Vietnam War, which feels like the kind of long arc, character-driven story I usually love.

The Lion Women of Tehran

A novel centered on a long friendship between two women in Iran, shaped by political and social upheaval. Many of the books I read are centered in Western culture, and I think it’s important to expand.

The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion

Described as gold for lovers of Jane Austen (ME!). It’s a series of 8 books, so we’ll see how many I get through.

James

A retelling of Huckleberry Finn from Jim’s perspective. I read Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn over and over as a kid, so this one caught my interest (plus it won a Pulitzer!). I also heard the audio version is fantastic.

The Stolen Life of Colette Marceau

WWII historical fiction about survival, a jewelry theft, and stolen identity. Paris is involved. Need I say more?

The Unmaking of June Farrow

I have a weakness for anything with time travel, and this combines it with romance. Sold.

Is She Really Going Out with Him

A love story about a disillusioned divorcée who agrees to let her children play matchmaker. It’s supposed to be funny, and a lighter pick (I think I’ll need it after a few of these!).

We Solve Murders

From the author of the beloved Thursday Murder Club series, which I adored. Cozy mystery with British humor. (If you haven’t read The Thursday Murder Club yet, start there. You’ll love it, I think!)

The Devil in the White City

Best-selling true story about a serial killer and the Chicago World’s Fair. I’ve never read it, but people still gush over it years later, so I’m finally finding out what the hype is all about.

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My Top 10 Books of 2025

Out of the 32 books I read in 2025, these 10 (in no particular order) are the ones I couldn’t stop thinking about long after I put them down.

The Briar Club

I picked this up at the recommendation of my friend Averie, and WOW was she right! Set in Washington, D.C. during the McCarthy era, the story centers on a group of women living in a boardinghouse, each with secrets they’re carefully protecting. Each chapter is told from a different woman’s perspective. Plus, it includes cooking and recipes! Truly, a phenomenal book.

Husbands And Lovers

A terrible title (IMO) for an amazing book. It’s a modern relationship story that asks big questions about marriage, timing, and the lives we choose versus the ones we imagine. It’s got some of everything: parallel timelines, romance, a sexy pop singer, historical fiction, and a touch of mystery.

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Lately, I feel the same way about blogging. Like the resurgence of baggy jeans and bucket hats, it’s wonderful and terrifying in equal measure.

Back in 2012 when I started Well Plated (ahem, 🦖🦖🦖), it was purely for entertainment.

Ben was in law school studying 24/7, and my desk at the job I’d taken to support us was a cubicle in a windowless basement at an insurance company. If you’ve seen the movie Office Space, that was my life (except worse, because at least those employees had some natural daylight).

Blogging and cooking became my escape.

I’d watch the Food Network for hours on the elliptical (don’t ask me why I watched cooking while working out), making notes of what Ina Garten prepared for her fabulous friends in the Hamptons, Giada stirred together in her faux-Italian kitchen while exaggeratedly pronouncing bru-sketta!, and Ree Drummond whipped up for her horde of hungry ranch hands.

My early blog recipes reflected these women, partly because I was still learning and needed teachers, and partly because I was trying on their lives for fun. I hadn't yet found my own voice.

The stakes could not have been lower. I wasn’t worried about traffic or money because, frankly, there wasn’t any money to be made.

Until there was.

Advertisers took notice of the audiences bloggers were growing. I’ll never forget the month I made $300 and could pay for our groceries!

Around the time ads began to earn, something shifted. I stopped asking “what would Ina serve?” and started asking “what do I actually want to cook?” and “what would help the person reading this?”

I shifted my focus to making healthy recipes that tasted great, using affordable ingredients I could find at the average Wisconsin grocery store.

Essentially, I evolved into the Well Plated you know today, and I can’t tell you enough how good it feels when I hear that my recipes are helping you and your families eat better and enjoy mealtime.

Doing something you love and earning a living is a dream come true. That said, as the years went on and blogging became a business, bloggers began to generalize their recipes to rank in Google search.

To have a fighting chance at ranking, we needed to drop the creative recipe names and personal stories.

We replaced colorful titles with simple terms people were actually searching—goodbye “Harvest Chicken Skillet with Sweet Potatoes, Apples, and Brussels Sprouts,” hello “Chicken and Vegetables.”

We nixed personal stories, taught ourselves food photography, and made our posts comprehensive resources about the recipe and only the recipe, thankyouverymuch.

If you’ve ever been annoyed by the length of a blog post, believe me, we bloggers felt it too. It’s what Google demanded for us to rank in its search, so we followed.

Fast forward to today.

I’m glossing over years of in-betweens and nuances (and I haven’t even touched on the impact of social media), but now it is much harder to rank in Google search than it used to be.

Not only did the number of bloggers explode in 2020, saturating the web, but Google itself changed the game.

When you search for a recipe, instead of displaying links to 10 different blogs, Google displays an AI overview, Reddit results, TikTok videos, FAQs, and somewhere in there, one or two recipes.

If you aren’t one of the few sites it picked, you’re not going to earn a dime from search.

As a result, I am watching the most extraordinary thing happen: blogging is going back to its roots.

If ranking in search is next to impossible anyway, why not create a recipe for Chocolate Beet Cake, even if no one is looking for it?

Hopefully, it will surprise and delight your audience, the people who still care that you are a real human, and not a figment of AI.

And while you’re sharing that beet cake recipe, why not tell the story about how you hated beets well into adulthood, but forced yourself to keep trying them, and now you adore them? That’s humanity, and we’re craving connection more than ever.

I started this post thinking about fashion trends, and here we are talking about the future of an entire industry. I don’t know what is next for blogging, and I don’t think anyone else does either.

The days of cookie-cutter, search-engine-optimized-to-death recipes seem to be over, and that is a win for home cooks looking for inspiration.

While the uncertainty scares me a little (or a lot depending on the day), I’m comforted by the fact that people will always need to cook.

For over a decade, I’ve worked to create recipes that are reliable, delicious, and help you get dinner on the table. That’s not changing.

What I’m excited about now is that I get to bring back the creativity and personality that made me fall in love with cooking and blogging in the first place. I can call it Grammy’s Lemon Cream Pie instead of “Lemon Pie with Cream Cheese.”

While not every trend needs to come back (low-rise jeans, I’m looking at you), quality stands the test of time. That’s what you’ll always find here, no matter the era. Now I just get to have even more fun creating it!

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As I’ve gotten older (wiser? more tired? occasionally apathetic?), I’ve grown increasingly wary of set resolutions, for a number of reasons.

One: Time is a construct. We can start fresh any time we want, and a new calendar year isn’t a silver bullet. Waking up at 6 a.m. to work out is just as effective on January 1st as it on October 4th.

Two: This is more of a “me” problem; I’m a perfectionist and tend to hold myself to impossible standards (see again: Ennegram Type 1). So a shiny list of ways to further perfect myself is counterproductive to my last several years of effort to give myself, and the people around me, more grace.

Three (and most important of all): I am finally starting to be happy with the current me. So much of the cultural messaging we hear this time of year gives the impression that we need to throw our current selves out the window in pursuit of…what exactly? A pristine morning routine involving Epsom salts and journaling? A life free of carbs (i.e. joy)? A 9 p.m. bedtime?

To be clear, I’m not knocking self-improvement by stretch. I’m just no longer in pursuit of a list of goals intended to turn me into someone else.

Case in point: I do not enjoy yoga. I used to think that if I did yoga enough, I’d turn into a “yoga person,” and thus also start loving green juices and meditating. It never happened, and I’m finally at a point where I’m comfortable saying that yoga isn’t for me, and my lack of enjoyment for it is not a negative reflection of my character.

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I spent much of my childhood wishing I were someone else. Now I see that all of those prior Erins—even the ones who didn’t like themselves very much—brought me to here: having people in my life who matter, a fulfilling career, and the freedom and means to pursue activities I love.

So rather than trying to remake myself, I’m going to keep standing on my own (imperfect, sometimes wobbly) shoulders and see how high I can reach.

Now, I do still have a New Year’s list to share with you (I am who I am, people!), but instead of a staunch checklist, it’s more of a guideline of what I want more and less of my life in 2026.

My 2026 Ins and Outs

IN:

• Gratitude. If anything is going to change my life, it’s going to be this.

• Cheese. Because I don’t want to look back on my life and wish I’d eaten more of it.

• Creative writing. Thanks for being here and helping to support it!

• Leveling up my French. I currently take weekly lessons but know I’d benefit so much more if I took time to watch TV and read in French alongside.

• Dates with myself. If I can’t enjoy my own company, who will?

• Being in bed by 10 p.m. Because nothing I’m staying awake for any later is usually worth a full night of rest.

• Leaving Google reviews for small businesses I want to support. Trust me when I say: reviews are LIFE for small businesses. It’s worth the minute it takes.

• Power walking. For anyone who needs to hear this, you don’t need to run to be in good shape. I used to run long distances, but find these days it doesn’t interest me (or my knees). A power walk with Teddy is more than OK.

• Super soft pajamas. Such a small but meaningful life upgrade (these are my current favorites).

• Getting out of the house with my laptop. Every time I work in a coffee shop instead of my desk or couch, I feel less isolated and more productive, yet I don’t do it nearly enough. I want to change that this year.

• FaceTime (or video recordings) instead of text. In our brave new AI world, face time matters more than it ever has before.

• Harry Potter. I’m currently re-listening to the books in preparation for taking my nieces to Harry Potter World this April, and it’s brought me so much nostalgic joy to relive the magic.

OUT:

• The scale. I grew up in a family that talked about weight a lot, and it’s left me with ghosts. I’m over it. My weight is literally the least interesting thing about me.

• Fast fashion. I’ve adopted a strict “one in, one out” policy with my closet. Instead of picking up trendy pieces, I want to invest in well-made classics I can wear for years to come. AND donating the “outs” makes a difference too.

• Doing it for the ‘gram. You know that “Instagram or it didn’t happen” feeling? I’m tired of reaching for my camera to prove to strangers I’m living a happy life when I could just...live it. (Much easier said than done.)

• Ruminating on other people’s negative opinions of me. All I can do is act in a way that makes me proud. If someone doesn’t believe my intentions were pure or wants to judge me negatively, that’s a reflection of their character, not mine.

• Taking negative statements as criticisms of my character. I struggle with this A LOT in my marriage. It takes very little to set me on the defensive, and often results in hard feelings or fights that didn’t need to happen.

• Being a passenger instead of a co-pilot. One of Ben and my larger fights was after a stressful traffic situation in Aruba. He was frustrated that I wasn’t doing more to help us navigate (which I took as a ding to my character, hence the “out” listed directly above). He said he needed me to stop being a “passenger princess,” which we later defined as someone who sits idly by and lets the other person deal with stressful situations on their own. I’ve thought about this a lot, and it’s opened my eyes to see ways I can be a better team player in our family of two (three with Teddy), whether we’re trying to lock up the house before a vacation or volunteering to take out the trash.

• Meat. Protein is still in for me in 2026 (I’m determined to build and maintain muscle mass), but I could do more to seek meat-free protein options for several meals a week for the sake of both the planet and my wallet.

• Uncomfortable pants. Can I get an “Amen!”?!

If you had an “in and out” list for 2026, what would be on it? I’d love to hear from you (and get more inspiration!) in the comments below!

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Back then, instead of seeing sparkling lights in window displays or wreaths on front doors, all I saw was painful evidence of one of grief’s most constant reminders: everyone else’s world has moved on, but yours is still frozen in pain.

I don’t have many Christmas-specific memories of my dad, but the one that always comes back to me is how he’d read us the story of Jesus’ birth from the Gospel of Luke on Christmas Eve before Mass (pretty much the only time of year I ever saw him with a Bible).

My sisters and I still joke about how he’d interrupt himself to add little side notes as he went along, even though we all went to Catholic school and didn’t need the expanded version (“now swaddling means that Mary would have had him wrapped up really tightly…” etc.).

I can also picture all of us crammed into the pew with him, hoping beyond hope that the service would end with “Joy to the World” so that my sisters and I could sing it in faux opera at the top of our lungs, while he tried not to laugh.

It’s been nearly 20 years since we lost him, and I still feel a pang of sadness that we didn’t have more Christmases together.

If you’re grieving the loss of a loved one this holiday season, I just wanted to say, I see you.

During “the most wonderful time of the year,” it doesn’t always feel OK to not be OK. In case no one has told you yet, you do not have to force yourself to be happy on Christmas.

You don’t have to shut yourself off from whatever you are grieving, whether it’s a relationship, a job, or expectations for how the holiday season *should* have gone, but didn’t.

You’re allowed to be sad, because grief does not take the holidays off.

Whatever you need in any given moment—space, a hug, permission to share a memory, or permission not to talk at all—give it to yourself, just as you would to a friend. My grief has taught me that what I need can shift hour to hour, and that’s okay.

This is also the first year we’re cooking a big Christmas Eve dinner without my Grammy, the matriarch of our family, and the heart and soul of our holiday traditions.

Every year, she’d set the most stunning table and spoil us with a spread so elegant, we might as well have been at Buckingham Palace (or so I always thought!).

Grammy passed away in January 2024. Last Christmas, during that first holiday without her, we as a family decided to hit the pause button and spend Christmas in Mexico, because it was too raw to recreate her magic.

This year, we’re honoring her traditions, but making new ones too. We’re keeping some of her recipes we all love most—her cheese ring, corn crab bisque, broccoli soufflé, and breakfast of hot chocolate, bacon, and cinnamon rolls—then adding our own cravings.

Instead of beef tenderloin, my brother-in-law is making smoked turkey and meatballs. In place of her usual lineup of four desserts (she had quite the sweet tooth!), everyone agreed that what we really want is cheesecake.

Of course, we’ll have plenty of other special nods to Grammy too. We’ll be serving Christmas Eve dinner on her china, and I flew her favorite tabletop item, two golden reindeer statues, with me from Utah to ensure they have a place on the table.

When you lose someone, it’s not only their company that’s severed. Often, we lose the traditions we shared with them too. It hurts deeply.

With time, grace, and space, my family and I have been able to find our own ways to honor my Dad’s and my Grammy’s memories.

It didn’t happen right away, and I’m sure there are plenty of tears to come as we cook our first Christmas Eve dinner with someone other than Grammy making the soufflé (hopefully she’ll be looking down from heaven so I don’t burn it).

And I still tear up almost every Christmas mass thinking of my dad. And yes, I do sometimes still slip in a little faux opera during the refrain of “Joy to the World.” I like to think it still gives him a good chuckle.

Sending you all love and light this holiday season.

xo, Erin, Ben, & Teddy

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For the last several years, Ben’s been itching to get advanced scuba training, which allows you to complete deeper, more complicated dives.

We’ve done a few recreational dives together, but without further certifications, you’re limited to just 35 feet, which makes most noteworthy sites off-limits.

Ben’s interests (which also include backcountry skiing, mountain biking, and apparently also paragliding now) tend to raise our life insurance premium, so scuba fits just fine.

And I try to participate in Ben’s interests…to a point.

Yes, I learned to mountain bike this year, but I did it on my own terms, and the same can be said for skiing.

I work hard to get better, but I have no interest in the steep, obstacle-filled, adrenaline-guzzling runs that Ben craves.

Scuba is different. Unlike skiing, where we can each go our own way, then meet at the bottom, if I wanted to participate, I needed to be certified.

But of course it wasn’t enough for him that we get one level of certification (up to 60 ft.), or even advanced certified (up to 130 ft.). No, he wanted to get wreck certified, which trains you to enter shipwrecks and is more specialized because it’s higher risk.

I often liken Ben to a greyhound—incredibly passive and sedentary, until he isn’t. Greyhounds love to loaf around…until race time. And when it’s go time, they GO.

This is Ben. He’s either so laid back that it’s exhausting, or he is taking action to the extreme. He has zero in-between.

In total, the certifications involved 20+ hours of e-learning and 13 separate dives, which we’d originally planned to complete in Cabo, but Hurricane Priscilla had other ideas, so instead, we pivoted to Aruba.

Something scuba definitely has going for it: the destinations. Some of the most beautiful places in the world happen to have fantastic dive sites, and Aruba is definitely one of them.

I loved Aruba and recommend it as a tropical vacation destination, even if you don’t strap on an oxygen tank.

But diving is why we were there, and I have the wetsuit tan lines to prove it.

Speaking of wetsuit—getting one over your rearend has to be one of life’s more humbling experiences. Our captain assured me that if you’re jumping up and down to get it over your booty, it’s the correct size.

One of scuba’s oxymorons is that, if you really stop to think about what you’re doing—intentionally going where you biologically cannot survive, your only hope a metal can with lots of tubes strapped to your back—it will make you panic.

But panicking deep underwater can ultimately kill you down there.

Basically, no matter how sideways things go, you physically and mentally have to stay calm if you want to make it out. The more slow and controlled your breathing, the safer you stay.

I don’t innately love the water (boats? YES! water? not so much), so I was pretty nervous at first…far more nervous than I let Ben or our captain believe.

Then 3, 2, 1… I was falling backwards off the side of our boat into ocean currents, where all kinds of unknown perils awaited.

The great thing about getting certified is that safety is drilled into you, especially the importance of controlling your breathing—long, slow inhales and exhales, with nothing but the sound of your own bubbles flowing past your ears.

What did I think by the end? It is, in fact, incredibly peaceful. I’ve heard everyone from Ben to Emma Stone compare scuba diving to yoga, and while I don’t find it quite THAT meditative, I can appreciate the sentiment.

When you’re first bobbing on the water’s surface, diving feels anything but calm.

The waves roll incessantly, the sea sprays in your face, something with very sharp teeth could be right beneath your feet, and unless you’re an elite swimmer, you tend to question your hubris for thinking you have any business being in the middle of the ocean.

But then, before you have a chance to overthink it, your partner descends, so you pop your mouthpiece in and deflate your vest to sink and follow.

In a matter of seconds, the rolling and tossing you felt mere moments ago vanishes. The water isn’t harassing you, it’s holding you. Your tank is light. You are weightless. The aura is transcendent calm.

As I slowly swayed my fins to move gently alongside kingdoms of coral and sunken ships, the feeling I returned to over and over was one of privilege and awe.

Here I was, a guest in a world that a small percentage of humans will ever have the opportunity to explore up close.

As someone who opts for the beach chair over the pool chair on resort vacations, I’ve spent dozens of hours admiring the ocean, but always as a view, not an immersive experience.

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Sure, I might splash in up to my waist, but my perspective focused on what ocean provides from the outside—a beautiful view, a natural soundtrack—with little thought for the world beneath it.

Scuba reminded me of how much of life is growing and thriving and struggling all around us, with us very rarely giving it a moment of our consciousness.

My personal thoughts on environmental conservation aside (beware, they’re strong and if anything, should be stronger), what I kept coming back to again and again as colorful fish and plants swirled around me, was just how darn lucky I was to be there.

I studied a few fish identification books prior to the dive, and whenever I spotted one I could name (hogfish! rock beauty! parrotfish!), I felt a rush of childlike delight.

Ben loved our diving experience mostly for the sense of exploration and adventure (often wondering if he could squeeze into a ship’s porthole), but for me the joy was all about the awe.

I’m not a little girl any more (I mean, duh, I turn 40 next year), but diving made me feel like one again, because it made me feel small.

As a child, I didn’t love that feeling of everything being bigger than me, but as an adult, I’m realizing how important and rare it is.

That feeling of wide-eyed wonder, of fascination, that is what scuba diving gave me again.

It’s actually a bit like staring at the stars (but up close, more colorful, and very very wet). Or wandering around a zoo without any fences.

I’m not sure when we’ll be back under the water, but I hope it’s sooner rather than later. I am PADI certified now, after all.

Watch a video of our adventures HERE!

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Ben could happily go the entire season with minimal decorations (just a few stockings and a strand of garland would suffice), and honestly finds the whole setup-and-takedown of more ambitious displays quite tedious.

He doesn’t begrudge me my festive enthusiasm, but he is perplexed at the depths of my exuberance, and left to his own devices, December 25th would probably look a lot like October 12th (though he does cherish the time with his nieces).

Our first Christmas together, I was bummed to discover that no, he didn’t want to split a bottle of wine while decorating the tree…and he definitely didn’t want to see the Nutcracker. Christmas Day with our extended families is always fun and special, but if I wanted a whole season of magic, I needed to make it happen for myself.

It turns out, creating your own holiday traditions can be surprisingly meaningful, even if you’re doing it solo.

And even if you do have kids or a partner who loves this time of year, claiming a few moments just for you holds its own kind of magic.

Here are 35 ways I’ve learned to savor the season over the years. Some are small and simple, others take a bit more planning, but all of them have made December feel more meaningful to me.

1. Make your own custom Christmas playlist and listen often (here’s one of mine; be sure to listen on shuffle)

   

2. Invent a signature holiday cocktail or mocktail (lately I’ve been loving this one)

3. Decorate an unexpected little space of your home as fun or wild as you like. A few years ago, I bought glittery pink peppermint decor for our powder room at Target, and it makes me happy every time I go in there

4. Make a decadent cup of hot chocolate and enjoy it in front of the tree

5. Treat yourself to a new pair of festive PJs and wear them for an entire Saturday. I’m actually writing this post in my new favorites, and they are so cute and soft!

6. Volunteer for a local organization

7. Take a wreath-making class. Many local floral shops will offer them around the holidays

   

8. If you have a pet, put them in a silly Christmas sweater, then text a photo to friends

9. Pick up a gingerbread house kit and make it at home (I’ve used both Trader Joe’s and Costco’s)

   

10. Make an easy no-bake treat like peppermint chocolate-covered pretzels, honey nut cashews, or bourbon balls for yourself or to gift

11. Watch a Christmas movie you haven’t seen since you were a kid

12. Walk around a decorated department store to window shop and people watch

13. Take yourself to a Christmas performance. Sure, there is The Nutcracker ballet, but area churches will often have sacred concerts that are free to attend

    

14. Wear fun holiday socks

15. Adopt a family, or pick out a toy from a giving tree and shop for someone in need

16. Pick up a fun Advent calendar. There are sooo many options for these now, from chocolate, to tea, to chapstick, to puzzles

17. Purchase a holiday scented candle and light it every night until Christmas (this is my all-time favorite; on sale! I also buy extras for gifts)

    

18. Get some new wrapping paper, then wrap your presents early so you can enjoy them under the tree

19. Buy a holiday issue of a home or food magazine and read it with festive music in the background

    

20. Dress up and go out somewhere known for its holiday decor for drinks or dinner. Two of my girlfriends and I take ourselves on a holiday date every year

21. Visit a local Christmas tree farm, even if you’re not buying a tree. Many have hot cider and let you walk the grounds

    

22. Make homemade gifts like infused olive oil, homemade vanilla extract, spiced nuts, or a batch of your favorite cookies to gift to neighbors or coworkers

23. Send handwritten holiday cards to people you haven’t talked to in a while (not obligatory family cards, but genuine notes to friends you miss)

    

24. Make yourself a super cozy, wintery meal you wouldn’t ordinarily cook, like French onion soup

25. Create a dedicated reading nook with a soft blanket. Place Christmas lights or decor somewhere you can see them when you glance up, then settle in with a book you’ve been meaning to read

    

26. Pick up a pack of holiday cocktail napkins and use them repeatedly, even if you’re not having a party

27. Drive through a neighborhood known for elaborate light displays with your favorite holiday playlist on

28. Make a special breakfast, even if it’s just for you—something indulgent you wouldn’t normally take the time to make. My favorite is my Grandma Dorothy’s Cinnamon Rolls

    

29. Start a collection of one specific type of ornament that means something to you personally, or gift one to a friend

30. Treat yourself to a massage or pedicure (bonus points for painting your nails something sparkly)

31. Attend a holiday market or craft fair and pick out something handmade

    

32. Do a fun grocery store spree to pick up seasonal treats

33. Light a candle and spend a few quiet moments remembering loved ones who are no longer with us. Grief can be especially hard during the holidays

    

34. Schedule a winter hike or neighborhood walk to appreciate the season outside of all the commercialism

35. Create a photo album or digital slideshow of your favorite memories from the past year while sipping something warm

What is one way you make the season feel special? I’d love to hear what traditions you’ve created for yourself in the comments below!

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They could be silly or sweet—her only requirement was that they be sincere.

For years into my adult life, I wrote a fresh list every year.

Gratitude is powerful, and without fail, that list left me uplifted and content.

In a world where we are constantly bombarded with the message that we don’t have enough (guilty! I hit the cyber sales hard this past week), it’s nice to put pen to paper and remind ourselves that, not only do we have enough, many of us (myself included) are privleged with an absolute abundance.

So, in the spirit of gratitude, I’m sharing my 2025 Thankfulness List. 100 things that make me rich indeed.

In no particular order…

1. Ben, my husband and best friend

2. My sisters, the two best gifts God ever gave me

3. Health

4. My six sweet nieces

5. Our doting pup Teddy

6. A job I love

7. My incredible Well Plated team

8. Having the kind of neighbors you can invite over for dinner with 10 minutes’ notice

9. My blogging friends—they get my life the way no one else can

10. When friends’ kids call us Auntie Erin and Uncle Ben

11. Hikes

12. Sunrises

13. Early morning runs in big cities when I feel like I’m the only one in the world

14. My dad. I miss him every day

15. My mom, a.k.a. hype woman

16. Ben’s parents (who feel more like parents than in-laws)

17. My talented SIL

18. Growing up with all four of my grandparents

19. My education

20. Making all the green lights on the way home

21. No line at airport security

22. Puffy white clouds

23. Cotton candy sunsets

24. Grass soft as carpet

25. Autumn in Park City

26. Having a in Park City, period

27. Fall scented candles

28. My grandmothers’ recipes

29. Cheesy Christmas movies

30. An energy boosting running playlist

31. Live music

32. Cozy blankets

33. The smell of baking bread

34. Not having food allergies

35. My body’s ability to heal itself

36. Therapy

37. Open a 2-pack of Starbursts, and both are pink

38. Long summer evenings

39. Dining al fresco

40. An open middle seat on a flight

41. My fabulous French teacher

42. Audiobooks

43. Our brain’s ability to retain song lyrics (car sing-alongs are so much more fun that way!)

44. Fresh flowers just because

45. Handwritten notes

46. A well-organized planner

47. When your arms are full and a stranger holds the door

48. Warm towels right out of the dryer

49. Big, shady trees

50. A favorite pair of sweatpants

51. Lake Michigan

52. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts

53. Dancing at weddings

54. My cookbook collection

55. Dramatic fog, especially in the mountains

56. Sunflowers

57. Looking at the stars and feeling really small

58. A cold glass of water on a hot day

59. Also: a cold margarita

60. When people ask me for directions, and I can actually answer

61. Bike lanes

62. Cheese

63. When they refill the buffet with hot food right before you get in line

64. A capella music

65. Podcasts

66. Spicy romantic fantasy as a literary genre

67. A hot shower after a walk in the cold

68. Steaming mugs of tea

69. Getting caught in the rain and not caring

70. Strangers who alert you that you have spinach in your teeth

71. Friendsgiving

72. How often I can travel

73. Solving crossword puzzels

74. Flattering jeans

75. Inside jokes

76. Remembering a password on the first guess

77. When someone else has already unloaded the dishwasher

78. Brunch

79. Tailgating

80. Game nights

81. Knowing a clutch answer at trivia

82. When you and the friend you’re meeting are both running the same amount of late

83. The Harry Potter Series

84. ‘90s country music

85. Dark chocolate

86. A really well-curated Spotify playlist

87. Flights that depart on time

88. Apple Pay. Saves me constantly

89. Waking up 1 minute before the alarm goes off

90. Nailing the internal temperature when cooking steak

91. S’mores

92. Cozy fires

93. Grocery delivery

94. The way the air smells after it rains

95. COFFEE

96. See also: wine

97. Flipping through old photo albums

98. Going out but being in bed by 10 p.m.

99. Pie….and last but by no means least…

100. YOU!!!

Thank you for being here and for supporting this little corner of the internet. I am tremendously grateful, beyond what words can express. Wishing you and the ones you love a very Happy Thanksgiving🧡

Is anyone else not ready for fall to be over yet? Didn’t it just start?

I opened my Instagram yesterday and got an ad for Christmas pajamas (which I ordered, DANG IT).

I’ve spent the last four weeks living and breathing every moment of autumn color. I’ve drunk the landscape in like water, stared at the leaves until my eyes blurred, and spammed my family with so many leaf pictures, they stopped responding.

(Actually, it was even worse—my sister responded with a “wow.” Complete with the period. If you’ve ever received a one-word text ending in a period, consider yourself shushed.)

But in all fairness, the aspens in the mountains put on quite the show. And that’s an understatement.

Sometimes I wonder if the aspens themselves know that all the leaves they’ve turned into a golden blaze of glory, can be scattered to the ground with a gust of wind or rain shower.

They’re not alone.

I’ve had my own unexpected puffs of wind and rain showers this year.

Ben has had a number of joint injuries lately that have unfortunately impacted several of our big plans. This year alone, he’s had two knee surgeries, an elbow surgery, and a hip injury.

I know that aging is an inevitable part of life, but I didn’t think we’d have to cancel a bucket list trip because of it, and that I’d spend most of this fall hiking and biking alone because of his joints before the age of 40.

Sales of my second cookbook have been sluggish. I don’t know why exactly, because the recipes are just as good (if not better) than my first book, yet my first book still outperforms it every single week.

I feel out of place socially. Park City is everything I could ever want in a hometown (I live on a literal mountain for crying out loud!), but without a large, tight-knit community of friends, it can feel lonely.

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If the aspens know their leaves are going to fall off, they don’t seem deterred. Or scared. They show up in autumn splendor, shed for winter, then start growing all over again in the spring.

If one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen in my life falls to the ground like clockwork, why am I obsessing over everything in my life feeling flawless?

What makes the fall colors spectacular isn’t that they are polished and permanent. It’s the opposite.

Fall is a reminder that times of transition and struggle are also times of great beauty, if we choose to see it that way, and if we stop expecting things to stay as they are now (or in my case, as I have built them up to be in my head).

The aspens know they have thrived before, so they take a long breath, regroup, change their approach to best handle their adversity, and then try again.

If the trees can keep sharing their majesty even though falling is inevitable, maybe we can too.

It can’t just be me, right? Is there an area of your life where you’re learning to let go a little? Please leave a comment, I love to hear from you!❤️

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NEWLY UNLOCKED! Another lesson the mountains taught me.

It makes sense. Hopefully, as a part of a fulfilling life, we discover our natural abilities, then hone them into successful hobbies and careers.

(In theory) being good at our work leads to more accolades, and being good at our hobbies leads to fulfillment (and bragging rights).

Whether it’s a promotion, winning the annual bake sale, or dominating your bowling league, we naturally spend more time on the things we’re good at because, well, being good at things is fun!

So why on earth did I, one of the least coordinated people on the planet (just ask my shins), decide to take up mountain biking, a hobby that requires keen balance, split-second reactions, serious quad strength, and a general disregard for fear?

I’m honestly not sure.

Life in Park City is ultra outdoors-oriented, and I love to be active, but it’s not like I don’t have other (i.e. safer) options.

Hiking, fishing, paddle boarding, trail running, even birding…all come with far fewer scrapes and bruises than standing on your bike pedals and careening downhill.

Unlike Ben, I don’t need the adrenaline of hugging tight, steep turns and plowing over obstacles. And, unlike the mountain bikers who make the slow pedal past our house every morning, I’m not interested in a grueling two-hour uphill climb.

My best guess is I want to be outside, to have fun, and to meet like-minded women. I had a hunch that mountain biking—albeit of a less Herculean variety—could fulfill all three.

Before I had time to second-guess myself, I booked a private lesson, rented a bike, and headed to a parking lot at the base of a trail to meet my new instructor, Tina.

That parking lot was all that I saw for the first hour and a half.

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It turns out that balancing, braking, and even managing basic turns is a lot trickier on a mountain bike, especially since part of the process involves raising and lowering your seat as you go over bumps.

Without any kind of muscle memory, I kept hitting the front brake lever instead of the seat adjustment lever, which is an excellent way to send yourself right over the handlebars.

To practice turns, Tina arranged a path of cones in a gentle arc and advised me to stand on my pedals and glide between them by shifting my balance. I ran over every single one.

The first “obstacle” she had for me? A baby curb.

It took me three tries, but eventually I mustered up enough confidence to hit it with adequate speed to roll up and over it, instead of bouncing right off.

At the end of my first lesson, it was obvious: I was not a natural. If my goal was to make friends and spend more time outside, mountain biking was not going to be the most direct route.

So, what did I do? I spent $$$ and bought a bike.

With the help of my friend Matt, I scored what I’m told was a great deal. If its price wasn’t enough to convince me that this bike was “the one,” then the name of its color did: Pinot Gnar.

A mountain bike color named after a type of wine? We were meant to be.

I’m now two lessons, five rides, and a hefty monetary investment in, and I can say without a doubt that 1) I’m pretty terrible, and 2) I’m having a blast.

The trail I’ve been practicing over and over is called “The Big Easy,” a name that, given my frequency of falls, feels insulting.

The first time I did it on my own, I had around six hard falls. The second time, five. The third time, four. Progress!

Unlike other things I’m bad at (figuring out my taxes, for example), no one is forcing me to take up mountain biking.

My skinned knees, bruised elbows, and the odd gash on my left butt cheek are all of my own choosing, as I remind myself every morning when I dot on BioOil to minimize the scars.

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If I stuck with only things I’m good at (baking, spreadsheets, writing fantastic restaurant guides), I’d miss out on the profound satisfaction of conquering something new.

I am farrrrr from conquering mountain biking, which for me right now looks like making it down The Big Easy without wiping out. But each time I hit that trail, I tumble a little less often. The improvement is intoxicating.

I still have many more things I want to learn—golf, mahjong, how to pronounce the 45,387 different French vowel sounds—and none of them are easy.

But then again, what truly worthwhile, meaningful accomplishments in your life were easy? Personally, I can’t name a single one.

It’s not so bad being bad. Humbling? Unquestionably. Requiring a certain amount of self-deprecating humor? That helps. Worth it? Absolutely.

If you’d like to follow along with my journey, I’ll be posting about it on my Instagram stories. I plan to hit The Big Easy again over the weekend. Maybe I can keep it to just two falls this time.

Is there something new you’re hoping to learn? If yes, what’s holding you back? I’d love to hear from you below!

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I never used to allow myself this freedom, which in retrospect seems silly considering a) how precious our time is, and b) how many excellent books are out there, more worthy of it.

Saying yes to (or sticking with) one book means saying no to another, so choose wisely!

These days, if I’m not into a book by roughly one-third of the way in, I feel perfectly ok putting it down (many of you agreed when I called this one quits, though it certainly had its fans too).

Reading is incredibly personal, so I won’t pretend this list will work for everyone.

What I can say is that of the 17 books I’ve completed so far this year, these are the five I enjoyed the most.

Wondering how I have time to read 2 to 3 books a month? I do audio! I listen while driving, walking Teddy, folding laundry, and chopping veggies.

Of course there is Amazon Audible, but it’s not the only option. Libro.fm is the same price, but you can direct the proceeds to your bookstore of choice. Spotify offers free audiobook hours for its premium subscribers. Through the Libby app, you can borrow audiobooks from your local library.

My Top 5 Reads of 2025 (so far)

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Planner that I am, I immediately switched into research mode.

From prior conversations, I knew he was excited about France (or so I thought). I speak good French, so getting around is easy—also, the food—or Italy (THE FOOD!).

Plus, both France and Italy hold special memories for us.

En route to Vegas for a friend’s 40th birthday celebration (we are in the “40th birthday” chapter of our lives), I started putting together what I thought was the perfect itinerary: 10 days on the France/Italy border.

We’d start the day with a gorgeous Alpine hike, then end it with pizza, pasta, and wine.

I was pretty proud of the itinerary, and when I turned to Ben to share my genius, I was surprised to see him scrolling articles about Bhutan, a country sandwiched between India and Tibet, and Armenia, a country that borders Iran, Georgia, and Azerbaijan.

To be clear, I think traveling in Southeast Asia is fantastic (I’ve treasured time in India, Thailand, and Vietnam).

We adored Turkey, and I want to spend more time in Eastern Europe in the future.

I can’t read Ben’s mind (see: You Thought We Were Doing WHAT Tonight?), but one glance at those articles, and I knew we had two very different trips in mind.

My version of the trip was tailored to two elder millennials who like to have a good time but suffer after sleeping on the wrong pillow.

His was for 20-something Erin and Ben, who once spent 10 days hiking through Northern Thailand and Vietnam.

When I say “hiking,” I mean HIKING.

We carried everything on our backs and needed a guide with a machete to hack through the jungle and clear our path.

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After a few hours of this “experience,” I requested we move our hike to the road, where I could stare at something other than my feet while trying to avoid fallen branches, and I didn’t need to thrash my arms around constantly to ward away mosquitoes.

We slept on mats in tiny villages and didn’t have access to a shower. We used a pail and bucket, one of Ben’s favorite methods of hygiene (I’m serious).

Ben, who spent two years in the Peace Corps on the border between the Dominican Republic and Haiti, loved traveling that way.

The remoteless, the physicality, the discomfort—it all connects to a part of him that, despite some effort, I’ve never shared.

Me? I loved our rough-and-tumble Thailand experience mostly because Ben loved it.

Of course, I also loved it because it gave us memories that still connect us. The scenery of Northern Thailand was stunning, and we met some wonderful people.

A wanderlust foodie, I do have an appetite for adventure…to a point.

Ben speaks very fondly of that Thailand trip.

When I saw him going down a rabbit hole on Armenia or Bhutan, I could see a similar trip—the intense hiking, the sleeping on mats, the bathing in mosquito spray—unfolding in his mind.

Being “Peace Corps” has become an adjective between us over the years.

It symbolizes an ability, even desire, to be separated from basic comforts.

See here’s the thing: I want to be that girl who can live out of a backpack, doesn’t need hot showers, and thinks it’s exciting to hike three days deeper and deeper into the wilderness…but I’m not.

I’m the girl who packs a charcuterie board for an overnight camping trip, considers a wine corkscrew a survival essential, and is mildly disappointed if her hotel room doesn’t include a bathrobe.

When I expressed my reluctance for Bhutan and Armenia to Ben, the corners of his mouth turned down immediately. “But when are we going to do a trip like that together again?” he asked.

To which I replied gently, “Honey, we’re not.”

Ben seemed genuinely surprised and a bit hurt. I told him that he was welcome to take a shoestring adventure trip anytime he wanted, it would just need to be with someone other than me.

“But I want to take it with you,” he insisted.

The honest truth is: I’m just not that girl. And I’ve stopped trying to force myself to be.

Oh, and I’m 39, and it’s much harder for me to sleep on a hut floor these days.

I’m all-in for a long hike and immersing myself in a different culture, but I also need a nice hotel, warm water, and a decent cup of coffee.

In the end, we settled on a 40th birthday trip that excites us both—hiking in the Swiss Alps and the Dolomites (basically my original idea, but ladies, WE know sometimes we need to let the men get there on their own).

I’m working on showing more enthusiasm for other interests of Ben’s that don’t take the monetary and time investment that a trip halfway around the world does.

Mostly recently, that meant watching reruns of key goals in the Stanley Cup playoffs (which is it just me, or are those 1,000 years long? Guess I have some work to do in the hockey enthusiasm realm).

For his part, Ben was quick to pivot on the trip, and I know my lack of desire to “rough it” for a multi-day period doesn’t affect his love for me.

I’ve also learned a lot about Bhutan since it first interested Ben, and now it’s on my bucket list too. (Bhutan’s wide selection of excellent hotels didn’t hurt).

As far as Armenia, he’s going to have to work harder to convince me. Maybe we can save that debate for his 50th?

WHAT ABOUT YOU: Have you ever struggled to admit to your partner that you’re not very excited about something that brings them joy?

It could be a trip, a movie, or a way to spend a Saturday afternoon. When do you compromise and when do you not? I’d love to hear from you!

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You’re receiving this because you signed up for emails from me over at Well Plated. I think you are awesome, and it means a lot!

I’m writing today because I’ve started something new in a new space.

It’s a newsletter called Well Actually. You don’t need to do anything, you’re already on the list because I think you’ll really enjoy it!

Why I created Well Actually

I’ve been blogging for more than a decade, which basically makes me a dinosaur in internet years. In that time, the internet has changed…a lot.

WellPlated.com will always stay true to its roots—easy, health-focused but not health-obsessed recipes that actually taste amazing (and that’s not changing!).

This new space, Well, Actually, gives me room to be more personal. It’s housed on a platform called Substack.

Um, what is Substack?

Substack is a platform that lets writers send thoughtful, AD-FREE content straight to your inbox—no logins or apps required. It’s becoming super popular (even my BFF Ina uses it!).

Do I have to download anything?

NOPE! You don’t need to download anything, log in, or create a password. Each post will come straight to your email like a regular message from me.

Note that if you enjoy reading articles in a dedicated space, Substack does have an optional app that you can download that makes the Well Actually experience even better (and it lets you follow other writers too). But again, totally optional!

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But really, what’s in it for me?

You’ve been added to the free version of the Well, Actually newsletter.

You’ll get about one email per month—what I call a “coffee chat.” These are more vulnerable, behind-the-scenes reflections—stories I don’t share anywhere else. It feels just like catching up with a friend!

For a preview, check out April’s Coffee Chat and May’s Coffee Chat.

You can stay a free subscriber to Well Actually and receive a snippet of the content library via these coffee chats. If you decide it’s not for you, unsubscribing is easy.

BUT if you’re craving something a little more personal and want to unlock the FULL Well, Actually experience, I’d love to have you as a paid subscriber. It helps support my work, and you’ll get complete access to all posts, including:

• All past and future travel guides (like New York and Paris)

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• Anything else I decide to share with the smaller, more supportive group

See all my travel guides

You can upgrade anytime (it’s $5 per month or $4.17 per month if you subscribe for the year. There’s no pressure, and you can cancel whenever you want.

To be honest, it’s a little scary putting myself out here like this. I know the internet is changing fast, and it can feel harder than ever to connect.

This space is my way of staying grounded and reaching out with something real. I hope you’ll stay!

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Have you ever really looked forward to a particular experience and, without realizing it, assumed your partner was looking forward to it the same way you were?

Classic example in our marriage: It’s 1 p.m. I remember that we have a nice bottle of wine we brought back from Sonoma a few years ago, and well we really should get to drinking it before it goes bad.

So if we’re going to drink it, I should make something nice for dinner (oooooh short ribs and risotto!).

Oh and we should do a cheese plate. And dessert!

Ten minutes later, the Instacart order is placed. My afternoon flies by, because I’m so exctied about this evening.

Look at us cool married people living our best lives, on a Tuesday night no less!

So imagine my surprise when, at 5:30 p.m. as I’m chopping onions and the wine is breathing, Ben walks downstairs holding his gym bag.

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I’m a little irritated, but admittedly, I guess I didn’t tell him this was the plan (in my mind I did, really!). Or why can’t he work out at 6 a.m. like me, instead of waiting until after the workday when I’m ready to cut loose??

It’s fine, I can get started on dinner, then we can kick off the evening when he’s back home in an hour.

Except he isn’t in the mood for wine because he had a hard workout, and a Sonoma pinot doesn’t sound like the most appealing way to rehydrate.

But the special wine is open! I’m making short ribs and risotto, is he deaf???

It’s fine he assures me, dinner sounds great, and he’s happy if I enjoy the wine on my own.

I know I shouldn’t care, but it feels less fun to drink alone.

I can’t tell you how often this has played out in different degrees during our 13 years of marriage.

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Sometimes it’s a night when I’m in the mood to go out, but Ben is tired from the week and wants to stay in and watch hockey.

Sometimes it’s a movie he really wants to see, but I have no interest because it sounds serious and depressing, and my preferred genre is (as our friend Jason calls it) “watching the happy elves go to happy town.”

We’ve gotten a lot better about communicating expectations over the years, a practiced skill that has only become more critical during the last 5 years of working together full time.

We still butt heads—the extrovert in the relationship, I’ll always want to go out, where Ben recharges by staying in—but we’ve gotten to a point where we give each other plenty of notice…most of the time.

Ben lets me know if there’s a sporting event he wants to watch that evening, and I check in with him before buying spontaneous cuts of expensive meat.

Have you ever run into a situation like this, where you pictured an evening or event one way, only to find out that your partner had a totally different picture?

How did you feel? I’m usually disappointed, then mad, then mad at myself for being disappointed and mad.

But seriously, does this situation where you think the night is going to be special and romantic, and your partner thinks you’re going to be watching a hockey game ever happen in your house?

Tips for more clearly communicating expectations? Please help us all out and share!

xo, Erin

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Have you and your partner ever realized too late that you saw yourselves spending your time very differently? How do you talk to them about it? I’d love to hear from you!

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I turn 39 today, and when I told my sister Elaine I was contemplating skipping it entirely, celebrating 38 two years in a row, then jumping straight ahead to 40, her reaction was strong and swift—a combination that summarizes her reactions to most things. It’s a trait I love about her (provided I’m in her good graces, anyway).

Elaine is five years younger than me, a narrow enough gap that I’m hoping her reason for encouraging me to live it up is related to making the most of my third decade of life, and not because I’m getting put out to pasture at 40 (although I hear the hangovers get exponentially worse—at least I can afford to inflict them on myself with nicer wine than I could in my 20s).

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My reasons for wanting to fast forward through 39 are that it seems sooooo….anti-climatic.

I’ve got 40 looming up ahead (which fortunately no longer feels like the death nell it did when I was 16), and what has been the happiest, most confident decade of my life so far, my 30s, almost entirely behind.

So, what then shall I do with this decade’s last trip around the sun?

Thirty-nine doesn’t exactly cry out for an international trip. Plus, considering I just went to both Paris and Amsterdam last month, it would behoove my bank account to celebrate on this side of the pond.

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Thirty-nine also doesn’t scream “let’s go dancing!” or even “I’m treating myself to an expensive designer handbag!” (and if it did, I would assure Ben that handbags are an investment).

I also have this thing where I start to feel the age I’m going to turn well ahead of my actual birthday.

I’m sure I’ve been 39 for months now, which practically makes me 40…and as I type “40,” I realize that number freaks me out more than it should. All the more reason to make 39 count!

So, in the spirit of giving my 30s the full send, here are five things I’m going to do more of this year:

1. Use the Good Stuff. The French wine I carefully wrapped in underwear and flew back in my suitcase. The perfume I bought in Paris. The Jo Malone candle I impulse-bought during one of those semi-tipsy “I deserve it!” moments. The cashmere sweater that’s sitting in my drawer. My possessions are not a museum. Life is happening now, so it’s time to let myself enjoy what I have.

2. Go Out for Lunch. You’d think that with the flexibility of working from home, I’d go out to lunch a few times a month. Try a few times a year. The last time I paused a work day to go out for lunch out was in February for my late Dad’s birthday; it’s a super hard day for me, and I wanted to cheer myself up. The funny thing is, anytime I do go out for lunch, even if it’s as basic as Sweet Green or Panera, it makes me SO HAPPY.

   Is going out for lunch a little frivolous when I can just make myself a turkey sandwich at home? Sure it is. I am siding with frivolity on this one.

3. Develop My Own Style…without Buying New Clothes. My wardrobe most days consists of these specific Lululemon leggings and this specific crewneck. Then, when it’s time to meet friends out for dinner, I find myself staring into my closet, feeling totally uninspired and like I have nothing to wear. Can you relate?

I started renting a few clothing items each month, and I LOVE IT. I’ve wasted too many resources buying things I think I love, wearing them 8 times in a row, then growing tired of them and donating few months later. Renting allows me to keep trying new things, and I can feel out what is or isn’t “me.”

You can purchase rental items at a discount after wearing them, but I’m really trying to keep clothing buys to a minimum. (I’ve used both Rent the Runway and Nuuly. RTR is my current favorite! Get your first month FREE here.)

4. Introduce Myself to Strangers. Or as Mel Robbins calls it, “I’ll go first.” We’re still new in Park City and trying to meet friends. Building a community as an adult is HARD, and the fact that we work from home and don’t have kids to connect us with school parents adds layers of difficulty. So far I’ve gone to yoga, where I introduced myself to one sweet girl. We hit it off…and then I found out she was only in Park City for 24 hours for work. SIGH.

By the way, I don’t like yoga as much as I like the idea of being the kind of person who likes yoga. What should I try next?

Future investment idea: invent speed dating for friends.

5. Stay Out for That Last Drink or Dessert. I am the friend who has zero issues calling it a night. As a kid, I was always the first to bed at sleepovers, nestled safely in my Aladdin sleeping bag (I never did get over the fact that I was stuck with the Genie on my sleeping bag, while my sister Elizabeth’s sleeping bag had Belle on it, but I DIGRESS).

The thing is, some of the best conversations happen when we should be asleep. What is it about talking late at night over pints of ice cream or a glass of bubbles that loosens vocal cords and opens hearts? I want to hang longer with friends and find out.

Also, who says this old lady can’t hang? WATCH ME.

So there you have it, my final dirty 30s list!

If you are reading this, you are one of my accountability people, so please comment and let me know you are here!

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