“Get Some Sleep Before the Baby Gets Here HAHAHA!” PunchKickStab.

We are at 29 weeks over here. When I say “we,” I mean me, the fetus, and my thighs. Adam and I are not one of those “We are pregnant,” couples. At least not after the initial first week or so of puking. I am pregnant. I am irrationally crying when there is no milk in the fridge. I am scratching my belly where I know some delightful, bright red stripes are preparing to appear. I am packing a change of clothes in the diaper bag for myself because I now pee my pants more often than our two-year old. I am growing outward from every part of my body; expanding like my very own little universe, forever and ever in every direction. There is no we in pregnant. If you rearrange the letters, there’s a tarp, which is about all that fits me these days.

Sleep is at a minimum. I was really hoping I could have a few more weeks to get six or more uninterrupted hours, but that does not seem to be in the cards. The Usurper is sleeping awesome. I never feel nighttime kicks. But don’t worry! Every other part of my body is conspiring against me to make up for it. I’m woken up several times a night by one of the many acts of betrayal my body is hurling at me.

Heartburn. I keep Tums on my nightstand and I pop those babies like they’re m&ms or Valium.

Back pain. Not even my beloved Snoogle can protect me anymore. If I lay in one position too long, I wake up feeling like my bones are made of tiny toothpicks, all threatening to snap. My hips, too. My hips! When I get up, I’m hobbling like a Golden Girl. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to wrap myself in ace bandages, just in case my legs actually detach.

I need to pee. I just did, but now I need to go again. I will also need to go again in forty minutes.

Dry mouth. Just in case for some reason, I won’t need to pee in forty minutes, my body has started pulling this nonsense. I wake up with literally no ability to produce saliva, and have to drink a liter of bathroom tap water. See you in twenty, bathroom.

Restless legs. It is very fun to wake up at 3am with an all-consuming urge to kick things. My apologies, Adam.

Braxton Hicks contractions. Just because the baby is keeping quiet doesn’t mean there isn’t a party in my uterus. Frequent pregaming going on in there.

Baby nightmares. Don’t think for a second that my subconscious would be left out of the festivities.  I am jarred awake by dreams of birth. Dreams where two come out are my favorite. They’re usually accompanied by dreams where all my teeth are shattering and falling out in splintered chunks.

So as you can tell, I am in a great mood always. I’m sure I will continue my reign of sunshine throughout the next eleven (ELEVEN?!)(eleven.) weeks.

Today, I Love You.

An actual shit ton of snow fell from the sky yesterday. We’ve had so many false alarms for big snow storms lately, that I took this one not seriously at all. I had an appointment for a facial and to get my hair done, with a break in between so I could eat something disgusting. My only plans for afterwards were to sit in my bathtub and finish watching The West Wing on Netflix and probably eat something else disgusting. Best laid plans guys. Ugh.

While my hair was processing, I looked out the window and everything looked like Elsa threw a massive bitch fit. Cancelled my facial, which broke my heart because I have been trying to get this damn facial for months. Actual, entire months. The fetus has been such a dick to my skin and I need a professional to get in there and scoop all the gunk out and sandblast my face until I’m pretty again. Every time I have tried to schedule this damn thing, I have had to cancel. Sick child. Sick me. Husband on travel. Holiday banana crap. I’m going to be gross forever. My facial is never happening.

When I got outside, I called Adam from the parking lot because just backing out of my space was the worst day of my life. We live a hair over two miles from the spa, but I wanted to make sure he knew I was leaving so he would also know when was the appropriate time to send out a search party. That drive took me over an hour and I spent a sizable chunk of it making peace with my existence, but was comforted with the fact that at least I would die with fresh roots.

The moral of this story is if you’re in a snow storm, don’t drive home. Drive to Target. Because if you drive home and then realize you have no junk food and can’t leave and all you want is Bagel Bites and chips, you’re going to spend a lot of time hangry.

So this weeks Today, I Love You is Food I Wish I Had the Sense to Buy Before This Snow Storm themed. Enjoy.

Simply Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookies

Making cookies is not that big of a deal, but these are your new boyfriend in a pinch. I like that they’re called Simply because it makes me think they’re good for me, too. I’m the marketing world’s dream dumdum. Back to the cookies- They’re delicious, they bake out thin and enormous. I also like that it only makes one dozen cookies. Even though they’re huge, I feel better about only burning my mouth on twelve cookies instead of twenty-four.

Kraft Macaroni and Cheese

I got the blue box blues. This is almost never allowed in my house, but I make special exceptions for natural disasters because I might die. The House That August Built was made almost entirely out of this gold, and it took me two years to lose that weight. So this is really a break with a tiny hammer, strictly in emergencies food. It has to be the little tube noodles, too. None of that character-shapes bullshit. There is less macaroni in those boxes and this is an emergency. Also, I add about a liter of ketchup to it. Bon appetit!

Chips and Queso

I shouldn’t even need to explain this. You dip a crunchy tortilla chip into delicious melted cheese. They say there is a tomato and onion and the rest of some salsa in there somewhere, but I don’t believe them or care. It is worth all the money I will be paying a doctor to squeegee this from my arteries one day.

Bagel Bites

You thought I forgot about them! Never. This genius product is brought to you by the makers of tater tots and french fries, so you know they’re just churning out hits over there. They took the chewy perfection of a bagel, and combined it with the also perfection of pizza. Then they shrunk than sonabitch so it feels dainty and cute and not like the toxic lard fuel it is. I turn my blissful ignorance up to 11 and enjoy my ass off.

Tie: Graham Crackers, Marshmallows, and Chocolate

What a coincidence. I can stack these lovelies and make the most glorious snack of all- the ‘smore. Or I can enjoy them all separately, buffet-on-my-couch style. ‘Smores are traditionally a summer food, and to that I say, who gives a fart? We don’t have a fireplace in our house, and the stove is too far from where I am sitting to cook them over the burner. But throw them in the microwave and I’ve got a melty shame sammy in 15 seconds. If you’re a purest, you can always pick up one of those cans at the store and roast marshmallows over a teensy fire hazard on your coffee table.

Our Family Room Looked Boring Enough to Give Me a Heart Attack

So many things are leaving our house. It is awesome. There is a mountain of stuff in our living room that is almost all going out on the curb in the morning so Purple Heart can come pick it up. Purple Heart rules. You need to get rid of a bunch of stuff, but don’t feel like loading it into your car and driving it somewhere, or are fearful of the fumes if you throw a match on it all? Call Purple Heart. You set your stuff outside. They come and get it and they leave you a little paper so you can claim that shit on your taxes. Then they give your stuff to veterans so you can feel like a real American hero. It’s the greatest.

We are attacking the house room by room, because when I try to do little bits here and there, all at once, I burn out and quit and hit the Taco Bell drive-thru. Going room by room, you keep chugging along until the room is done, then you get a huge reward high from finishing a room and you use that as jet fuel to get the next room done. Our bedroom needs help. It’s injured. Injured bad. It’s become such a dumping ground because that’s how we access the attic and also that’s where we keep the floor that I throw all my clothes on at the end of the day. I want to get to work on it, pronto. But we are still decluttering/cleaning the family room, and I need to ride that out until it is complete so that I have the emotional fortitude to conquer our bedroom and (pause for heartburn) our closet.

The basement is leaps and bounds better than when we started a couple of weeks ago, but it still has a ways to go. I took some pictures the day we began cleaning and organizing. I didn’t bother to pick up any mess before I took the pictures to give you an authentic look at the toddler frat we spend our days in. Again, it is not finished. But it is so much better. I’m sitting here right now, typing this, not wanting to abandon ship and live in the much cleaner wilderness.

Pretty much all of the credit for progress so far goes to Adam on this, because he has done everything while I sit and point and eat cereal. He put together new furniture. He removed all the big stuff we decided to get rid of. He cleared the hell out of the laundry room and I have stepped inside several times since then and not been afraid. He scrubbed the walls down so they weren’t covered in five years of soot from our pellet stove. He hung things on the wall after I complained about being asked to tell him where I wanted them on the wall. Adam is the king of doing things and pretty much nothing would be done right now without him.

The family room managed to look boring and incredibly stressful at the same time. We were using an old sofa table as a TV stand. Not steady, not safe, not practical because anything TV-related had to be stacked on the floor. Wires everywhere, it was an ugly mess. How did we baby-proof this? We threw a big-ass baby gate in front of it and told August to keep his grubby mitts off.

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Next to the TV is our “built-in” bookcase. If you are unfamiliar with putting quotes around a word, it usually means the word in between the quotes is a lie. We found a bookcase that mostly fit this weird little nook our house came with. Boom. When Adam and I moved into this house, I had a vision of curated, personal items decorating our shelves, making it a visually pleasing focal point in our family room. Then we said screw it and filled our shelves with a ton of shit and stacked more shit on top . It’s still a focal point, but one that crushes me with anxiety and ew it’s ugly feelings every time I accidentally look at it.

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Which brings us to our couch. It’s made of cat hair with a fabric under-layer, accented by absolutely effing nothing because I never picked out a damn thing to put on these sand-ass walls. It bums me out to sit here. And I sit here a lot. This seating area should come with a prescription for Zoloft and a sympathetic hug.

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And finally, I share with you an entire space dedicated to the things I buy from Michaels and never touch again: my office. I call it an office because calling it a craft area implies I actually make shit once in a while. I do not. But if I wanted to, I could, because this space is filled with every craft phase I have half-heartedly gone through. Printmaking. Needle felting. Sewing. Painting. Scrapbooking. Crocheting. Embroidery. They have all come here to die. I am bad at artistic things. Partly because I don’t like things that I am not amazing at the first time I try them. And partly because I get some kind of psychotic death grip whenever I hold any kind of tool or implement and it makes everything I do turn out like a five-year old with Parkinsons made it. The deck is stacked against me. So I write. On a computer without holding a pencil.

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I will leave you all with an inflated sense of self, having seen the hamster cage my family calls home. Enjoy feeling smug about your actual built-in bookcase and your neatly-folded blankets. And maybe throw some ideas my way. Have you recently made some big changes around your home? What the hell did you do with the empty wall space around your TV? How do you make your family room or living room a place you enjoy spending time? Who wants a large quantity of compact discs that I would like my husband to get rid of? Gimme all your suggestions and advices.

Today, I Love You

I’m winding down from a Valentine’s weekend that was full- FULL- of Braxton Hicks contractions. This fetus is painful. But thankfully, I have been getting slightly better sleep because he or she has been resting at night. I’m still getting up to pee a million times, but it’s easier to fall back asleep if all inhabitants of my body are ready for rest. August wasn’t a big kicker at night, and came into this world an awesome sleeper. I’m crossing my fingers we get lucky again, because I am a basket case without sleep. It’s not even like I just get grumpy and forgetful. I straight up lose my mind and come dangerously close to being a scrolling story on the bottom of your television screen. SHELTER IN PLACE. LOCAL WOMAN WITH NO PANTS IS BARKING AT DOGS AND HOLDING HER OPEN MOUTH UNDER THE NACHO CHEESE DISPENSER AT 7/11. So maybe cross your fingers for me, too? Good sleep vibes all around.

In addition to adequate sleep, here’s some other things that I like or love or enjoy right now.

Obvious Child

Adam and I have been meaning to watch this for a while. I was expecting a fairly funny movie, solely because I think Jenny Slate is hilarious. It way delivered. It’s a romantic comedy about a woman who has a one-night stand and gets pregnant, and decides not to keep the baby. Clearly a touchy subject that doesn’t exactly sound like the basis for a comedy. But it works, and is handled in the most humanizing and realistic way. We both really enjoyed it. Jenny Slate forever.

Trivia Crack

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Dammit. You guys. I finally checked this out. It’s addictive as hell. It also makes me feel like a giant dumdum because I. Know. NOTHING. How can I love something so much that I am so bad at? Before August was born, Adam and I used to play bar trivia with some friends once a week. Our team was awesome because everyone had specific strengths that fleshed out a pretty well rounded plethora of knowledge. Some people were good with geography or presidents. We had a vet who could handle most animal and a lot of human anatomy and medical questions. My area of expertise was children’s movies and current events (that one would find in People Magazine). I win the HELL out of the entertainment category on TC. Everything else, not so much. But alas, play I must.

Packing for Vacation in My Mind

I hate packing, but thinking about what I’m bringing on a trip is a productive way to get me very excited. Every year, we plan a trip to Wisp Ski Resort out in McHenry, MD. We rent a house, get a bunch of our friends together, and spend a long weekend away. We divide into groups and each cooks a breakfast or dinner for the whole house, so you only have to cook once the entire weekend. At night we try to play some games and just hang out together, and when I’m not pregnant I drink Andre straight from the bottle. Days are usually spent skiing/snowboarding, or if you’re me, sleeping and eating and not watching PBS Kids. August is staying with Adam’s parents, and it’s our last time away before the baby comes. We don’t leave until the end of the month, but I’ve been making lists of comfy clothes to pack, books to read and projects to bring and work on. I found a book about hand lettering, which is something I would like to try, and I will hopefully knock out some little projects that I have in my desk that have gone unfinished for a very long time.

Spot It Jr

We bought this game on a recommendation from a friend who knows pretty much everything about games. He’s raising tiny gamers of his own, and sang the praises of Spot It Jr. August loves it, and it’s fun to play with him. He will happily play by himself while I’m working on the computer (internet shopping) and it holds his attention longer than most things he plays with.

Maybelline Color Tattoo

I want every single color. I recently watched a makeup tutorial that used the Inked in Pink shade. Bought it, loved it. It’s a long lasting cream shadow that works really well as a base, but some colors are great by themselves. Barely Branded is my favorite for everyday, as part of a low-maintenance look. It is a very light shimmery color that covers up the pinkness my eyelids can have when I’m tired (always). It brightens up my face and all I do is pat a little on with my finger. Wears great throughout the day and doesn’t crease.

Anything you’re really liking lately and think I should try? Books to check out, products to try, activities you’re interested in? Send em my way! And if you’re enjoying my blog, please subscribe on the right of this page, so my posts are sent right to your email inbox when they’re published. It’s a simple way to keep up with what I’m writing, and it makes reading posts on your smartphone a little easier.

Wearing That Mom Hat All the Damn Time

In a pre-baby world, dates and anniversaries and Valentine’s Day and all those things were as easy as Adam suggesting a place to go, me saying I didn’t want to go there, him suggesting another place, me vetoing that, and then agreeing on the next place. Or the place after that. Now, so many things go into it. We need a sitter. We need to pick somewhere close by so that we aren’t wasting valuable freedom in the car. We need to research if we are going someplace new because nothing craps on a night out like blowing it all on a disappointing experience. We need to schedule ourselves meticulously if we are also planning on a movie so that we don’t miss it after dinner and are home in time to relieve said sitter.

It’s a whole song and dance, but so worth it and so necessary because sometimes it just feels wonderful to enjoy each other and not worry about how long it has been since our mostly potty-trained kid has been to the bathroom or how fast the food can come to the table or, god forbid, did you forget to bring a sticker book I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU FORGOT THE STICKER BOOK. You need those little moments when you are just a couple, and parenting is not at the forefront of your mind.

I normally get pretty excited for Valentine’s Day. I am totally one of those suckers that buys into the whole thing, plus I love the crap out of my husband and celebrating that love is fun as hell. Also chocolate. But this year… I’m having such a hard time feeling it. Not the love part. There is always the love part. But the part where I’m feeling coupley and not parenty, is hardly there right now.

A big part of it is this pregnancy. The list of how this time is different than the last just keeps growing. I felt like crap as far as energy and health went when I was pregnant with August, but I also felt like a babe. I felt more comfortable in my pregnant body than I ever had before. Nothing like giant boobs and the knowledge that you are a freaking life maker. Plus having the clearest skin of my existence and very long, shiny and thick Kim K hair wasn’t exactly the pits. And the further along I got, the more confident I felt. This time around, even though I am in better shape and wearing clothes that aren’t Adam’s tshirts and gym shorts, the babe feeling is lacking. I’m tired. I’m busy. And I spend all day wearing my Mom Hat, which feels harder and harder to take off at the end of the day. Not to be confused with Mom Shoes, which are virtually impossible to take off. They’re god awful looking and make your ass sag by association, but it feels like you’re walking on clouds. That you bought with a coupon. On clearance!

I went through this whole stupid phase after my first pregnancy where I got rid of a lot of my clothes, changed the way I did my hair and makeup, and kind of transitioned into my idea of what Sara the Mom looked like. Part of it was probably the weight I put on while I was pregnant, because as it came off, I started to feel more comfortable with being myself again. But there is this other part that is left that I think maybe just comes with the Mom Hat, or at least my Mom Hat, where I feel like I am wearing a sweater set on the inside. It’s hard to feel like a babe in a sweater set. I mean, I guess some people can pull it off, like if you’re into librarian porn or something. But I haven’t quite figured it out.

This has really just turned into one huge fishing for compliments post, so I’m going to also say that I know I’m a babe. I’m also very aware that the dilf I married thinks I’m a milf, even though there are a lot of days that I think he has gotten sharpie in his contacts or something. But there’s this thing I think a lot of women go through where we have kids and become moms and that becomes the first and foremost thing we are. Like Susan popped out a kid and now she is 1. Mom Susan and then on occasion 2. Susan Susan. Motherhood has this weird ability to kind of change our identities, at least for a while. I think? Or I’m the only weirdo. I mean, I can’t think of another major life event that has felt like who I am is somewhat derived from it. I never became Sara in College or Steadily Employed Sara or Sara the Wife. But Sara the Mom feels like this thing that has, at times, steam-rolled the shit over Sara Sara. And now I’m talking about myself in about 40 kinds of third person so I should probably wrap this damn thing up.

Am I just being a gigantic weirdo? Or does this mom thing legit come with a lifetime sweater set and I just haven’t been let in on the secret mom meetings? I’m going to go eat the candy August was going to give to his friends.

The Great Pre-Baby Purge/Clean is Underway

If I wake up only three times while I’m sleeping to pee, that is considered a peaceful night of rest. During the day, I suddenly have to pee very badly, and as I run for the bathroom, my body goes “Eh, close enough.” We are in the midst of some kind of god-awful Maryland wintertime and I spent my day running errands in clothes made of what amounts to cheese cloth. I way too often have to talk myself down from hitting ORDER on an online delivery form for a cheesesteak and mozzarella sticks. It’s been weeks since I have been able to look down and see what underwear I am wearing. I can no longer put on socks without reverting to some bastardized form of Pigeon Pose.

 

Imagine someone much sweatier and smuggling a Christmas ham under their shirt and not doing this even kind of right.

 

The third trimester is coming. I can feel it. I can smell it. It smells like pee, just in case you haven’t been to this sunny side of life yet. But with all the discomfort and disrupted sleep and wet pants and cheese cravings, comes nesting. Glorious nesting! When I was pregnant with August, we finally cleaned out the unfinished basement/laundry room, to the point that I would actually go in there and sometimes do laundry. I emptied our big ass pantry, painted it, made solid covers for the wire shelves, cleared out all of our cabinets and storage, and organized the everloving shit out of the whole kitchen. We cleaned everywhere, getting the house ready for our new baby. And it has been mostly dirty since then.

 

Granted, it’s cleaner than it used to be. I used to never clean. Never. And the weird thing is, it has gotten much easier to maintain our home post-child than it was before. B.A. (Before August), the only thing that made a clean house feel necessary, or more necessary than us playing video games and watching a lot of cable TV, was having company over. We hardly ever did that, so the house stayed a mess most of the time. Now with August, I need things to be somewhat in order to feel any sort of sane during the day.

 

I tried writing myself an insane daily and weekly chore list, that I color-coded and laminated and hung on the fridge like the most Stepford of psychos. And then I never looked at it again. If I could stick to that thing, you would be able to eat off my toilet seat. But it was really easy to ignore the existence of that list, so I’ve made adjustments and adopted habits that are a little more practical. I try to keep up with dishes and keep the kitchen clean throughout the day. And while Adam handles bathtime and bedtime, I pick up toys and various scattered things around the house, so that I can start the next day on a semi-blank, but still pet-hairy slate. It works, for the most part. But.

 

 

Over the past couple of years, Adam and I have gone through phases of cutting down on the absurd amount of stuff we own. We don’t have a huge house- it’s large-ish for a townhouse, but only has two bedrooms, so stuff piles up quickly. We have made a lot of progress. But still, stuff remains. And adding a kid to the mix- sweet lord. You think of this tiny little baby person coming into your life and filling your heart with love and joy. But you don’t realize all the shit, literally and metaphorically, they fill your house with. And every few months, it’s more and it’s bigger. This is partially because I went into parenthood thinking that if I just bought everything ever made for a baby, the whole baby thing would be easier. That was one of my dumber ideas. But even after cutting down on a LOT of toys and gear, there is just… stuff. Stuff, guys. So much stuff. On top of your stuff.

 

Exhibit A.
Exhibit A. (That hairball in the bottom right is my son, not some critter.)

 

When you have stuff, you need places for stuff. Eventually, you get more stuff. And then those places get full. Instead of having places for all your shit and all your shit in its place, you end up having a bunch of places where you shove shit, and more places where you shove shit next to that shit. And soon, you find yourself eating a bunch of deep fried cheese sticks just to give your hands something to do that isn’t lighting a match and burning down everything around you.

 

It’s so appealing.

 

So, we are getting back into decluttering-mode. A lot of the rooms in our house aren’t what I would call “finished”. The walls are bare, or fairly bare. There isn’t much pulling the crap we have and plan to keep, together. Our kitchen is pretty much finished, and so is our living room and the bathrooms. But the basement/family room, and the bedrooms need some help. The plan is to go room by room. Purging, organizing, cleaning, and finishing decorating, so that we can enter the lion den that is having two children with as much peace of mind as humanly possible.

 

I will post about our progress as we make it. We recently started on our family room/basement, and the changes we made have created a more enjoyable space that already feels bigger. So I’m feeling good. Hopefully it will be complete fairly soon, and we can move on to the bedrooms.

 

Do you have a space or room in your house that your family spends the most time? What have you done to make it a place you want to be in?

Today, I Love You.

The negative feels keep trying to creep their way in. The house is a wreck right now while we start a bunch of projects we have been putting off. It is the gross part of winter that comes after Christmas that turns everything gray and crappy and it feels like it is going to last forever. And I’m having a serious case of “Ugh. You again,” when I look in the mirror. I thought it might be a nice change of pace to turn down the sarcasm a smidge and just share some things that I’m enjoying or finding helpful or fun right now.

Sour Patch Kids

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The last time I bought these was probably in middle school. I am usually a chocolate person or a all-the-chips person, but this pregnancy has me craving fruity sweet things. Skittles, too. So many Skittles. Also, Skittles, if you’re reading this, you need more purple. That’s my only complaint. Otherwise, I am totally satisfied. XOXO

Sonia Kashuk Tinted Brow Gel

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In the mornings when I don’t have much time or energy or motivation to put makeup on, this stuff is your mom in high school (cheap and easy) (HEY-OOOOO!). I want to do something to my brows, but I don’t feel like filling them in and defining my arch and yada yada. I brush this gel on, and it helps to fill my brows in a bit and keeps everything in place, while still looking natural and not overdone with the rest of the low maintenance business going on with my face.

Getting Rid of Clutter

Specifically, I finally started going through my dresser drawers, which has been sorely needed for the longest time. A lot of the drawers were stuffed full or overflowing, and much of what was taking up valuable real estate was old or didn’t fit anymore. I got rid of my pre-pregnancy bras that haven’t fit me in ages. Tossed any old or mateless socks. And trashed the abnormally large amount of “It’s laundry day,” underwear I somehow acquired. I’m now left with cute things that fit, are in good shape, and make me feel good when I’m wearing them. It was super fast to tackle and I’m now embarrassed that I put it off for so long.

This Post from The Mom Edit

It inspired me to be a little more mindful while getting dressed today. I’m still comfortable, but I don’t feel slobby or frumpy, which can be a mood killer for me as the day goes on.

Bath & Body Works Champagne Toast Candle

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I’m not usually a fan, but I was browsing while my sister shopped for a friend recently. I liked the look of this candle, and the scent is sweet and happy and not overpowering. I’ve been lighting it while I get ready in the mornings, or while I get unready at night, and it’s been a nice addition to my routine. It does nothing to fill the empty hole that champagne has left in my heart the past six months; but really, nothing can.

Anything you’re really into lately? Share the goods.