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January is Thyroid Awareness Month, and for me, it’s not just a health campaign on a calendar. It’s personal. It’s a reminder of the days I’ve pushed through exhaustion so heavy it felt like gravity doubled. It’s the moments I’ve questioned myself, wondered why my body wasn’t cooperating, and tried to explain symptoms that don’t always make sense to people who’ve never felt them.Hypothyroidism isn’t something you “snap out of.”It’s not cured by a nap, a pep talk, or a motivational quote.And it definitely isn’t a personality flaw.It’s a medical condition — one that affects every corner of your life, even the corners you don’t show anyone.

Weekend Moments: Good Food, Good Company, Never Enough TimeSome weekends feel like they slip right through your fingers, and this one was no exception. It was full, busy, delicious, and over far too quickly — but the food and the company made every minute worth it.We kicked things off with a Costco run, which is basically a family sport at this point. After weaving through the aisles and stocking up on the essentials (and a few not‑so‑essentials), my wonderful husband took me out to breakfast at Twisted Kilt. Nothing like a good meal you didn’t have to cook to start the weekend on the right foot.Saturday was all about comfort and family time. I made Creole‑buttered chicken with mashed potatoes — the kind of meal that fills the house with warmth and makes everyone wander into the kitchen asking, “Is it ready yet?” We spent the day hanging out with family, laughing, catching up, and just enjoying being together. I even finally cut a few inches off my hair, which felt like hitting a reset button I didn’t know I needed.Then Sunday rolled in with football energy. My sister came over so we could watch the Seahawks defeat the Rams (always a good day when that happens). And because no game day is complete without something amazing simmering on the stove, we made braised short rib rigatoni — rich, cozy, and perfect for a chilly evening.By the time the weekend wrapped up, I found myself wishing for just one more day. But even though weekends are always too short, this one was packed with the best things: good food, good people, and those small, ordinary moments that end up being the ones you remember.

Some weeks feel like they drag — work, kids, meal planning, the usual chaos — but then something happens that makes you stop in your tracks. This week, that moment was my oldest turning 18.Eighteen.It still doesn’t feel real. I can remember the long nights, the toddler tantrums, the endless snack requests, the school drop‑offs that felt like they would last forever. Back then, time moved slow. Some days felt like they were made of molasses.But then you blink.

There’s something deeply satisfying about holding a story in your hands — the weight of it, the promise of it, the way a book can feel like a tiny world you get to keep. So today, I decided to take that feeling and shrink it down even further… literally.I spent the afternoon making miniature books of the novels I’ve read this year, plus the ones patiently waiting on my TBR list. And let me tell you: these tiny books are ridiculously cute. The kind of cute that makes you stop mid‑project just to squeal at them. The kind of cute that makes you consider building them their own little bookshelf, because obviously they deserve it.The covers came from TaylorMayedDesigns on Etsy, and they’re perfect — crisp, colorful, and detailed enough that even at miniature size, you instantly recognize the titles. I opened the package and immediately knew I was in trouble. The good kind of trouble. The “I’m about to spend hours happily crafting and ignoring my laundry” kind of trouble.There’s something meditative about cutting, folding, and assembling these tiny books. It feels like stitching together a visual diary of my reading life — the stories that moved me, the ones that made me laugh, the ones I’m still thinking about, and the ones I swear I’ll get to soon. (Looking at you, stack of fantasy epics.)I love how these little books capture the joy of reading in such a playful, creative way. They’re going to look adorable on my shelves, tucked into photos, or even hanging as ornaments when the holidays roll around again. And honestly, they just make me happy. Sometimes that’s reason enough.If you’re a fellow book lover or a crafter looking for a low‑pressure, high‑delight project, miniature books might be your new obsession too. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

As the last hours of 2025 simmer down, I’ve been thinking about everything we cooked, created, and shared together this year. When I started Culinary & Craft, I hoped it would become a cozy corner of the internet — a place where food meets family, where stories meet saucepans, and where a little bit of everyday magic sneaks into the kitchen. This year, you helped make that dream feel real. 

Christmas Day this year was everything I love rolled into one: great food, loud laughter, familiar traditions, and those little moments that sneak up on you and tug at your heart.We kicked off the morning at MaMa Becky’s house, just like we do every year. She makes her famous Cinnabon French toast—sooo good. I’m not even a big sugar eater, but mine disappeared in under a minute. No shame, no regrets.Before we headed out, the kids insisted on opening presents first thing. Watching them tear into wrapping paper with that early‑morning excitement hit me differently this year. It suddenly dawned on me that this is the last Christmas where my son is technically a “kid.” Next year he’ll be an adult. How did that happen so fast? It’s wild and a little bittersweet, but mostly it just made me grateful to soak in every second of this season.The rest of the day was spent at home, where my husband and I took over dinner duty. We went all out—dry‑aged prime rib, mac n’ cheese, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and homemade gravy. The house smelled like pure holiday comfort.And the best part? My “brother” came for dinner. Having him there made me really happy. It just made the day feel complete in that way only certain people can.That’s the thing about the holidays: the food is amazing, sure, but it’s the people around the table who make it unforgettable.

There’s something magical about December cooking. Maybe it’s the twinkle lights, maybe it’s the promise of family gathered around the table, or maybe it’s the thrill of opening your fridge every morning to check on a massive, cheesecloth-wrapped prime rib like it’s a very carnivorous advent calendar. 

When Working From Home Feels Like Working From Everywhere At Once