There’s something magical about a homemade body scrub—especially when it smells like a tropical cocktail and leaves your skin feeling like velvet. One of my all-time favorite DIY treats is this simple yet luxurious coconut oil and orange zest body scrub. I’ve made it countless times for myself, but this time I whipped up a fresh batch as a little gift for a dear friend. (Who doesn’t love a thoughtful, handmade present that also smells like vacation?)
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Today, I was a child again. For one whole day, I became the daughter of my daughter, and she, my spirited, witty little girl, became my mom. Sounds complicated? Not really. Just wildly entertaining.
We decided to swap roles for the day. And so, this morning, I stayed in bed longer than usual, lazily scrolling between tablet, phone, and my book. I read sneakily, of course, because kids only read under threat of losing screen privileges, right? When my eyes started to blur from too many gadgets, I shouted:
“Moooom, I’m huuungriiie!”
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I’ve Had a Brilliant Idea (No, Really!): I’m Becoming a Witch. A Real One. With Toad Legs and All.
This morning, I woke up with an idea that can only be described as pure genius. Drumroll, please… I’m moving back to my homeland and starting a business! Yes, a real one. I’m absolutely, irrevocably, broomstick-flyingly determined.
Look, wherever you turn, there’s at least one poor soul with a love crisis, a few others swimming in financial troubles, and the rest wandering around with all sorts of bad juju. So I thought, why not solve it all… magically? That’s right. I’m becoming a full-time witch. Read more
Last week, during a calm and cozy evening, I played a little game with Miss J., who is currently 6 years and 9 months old and full of opinions, wisdom, and a dash of sass. The game? Q&A: Ask Me Anything Edition.
You know, I dream. A lot. Possibly too much. I daydream with my eyes wide open, and obviously, I night-dream with my eyes tightly shut.
The daytime dreams don’t scare me. They’re curated, intentional, like Pinterest boards of my future life. I want something, anything, and my mind launches into full cinematic production: scenarios, possibilities, entire dialogues. I even mentally draft a five-phase plan to bring the madness to life.
But the night dreams? That’s where things get… unpredictable. Read more
It was a quiet morning stroll through Dordrecht when we wandered into the Grote Kerk, which translates, rather humbly, as the Big Church. Its full name is De Grote of Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk, a majestic Gothic structure, not unlike the Black Church in Brașov, and about the same age too. Inside, the atmosphere was serene, almost sacred, wrapping around us like a warm hush.
We found a bench and sat down, the kind of sit-down where you’re not really tired, but your thoughts are. Sitting beside me was Miss J., unusually still and solemn. Yes, my whirlwind of a daughter, eternally full of questions, was suddenly peaceful. I looked at her sideways, amused and slightly suspicious of the calm. She glanced up at me with her curious, always-seeking eyes and whispered:
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