Archives for posts with tag: lifestyle
Nuuly sweater and pants for a reporting trip in California’s Central Valley (January, 2026)

It’s fall of 2024. I’ve got a bunch of special events and travel coming up and my closet is struggling. My day-to-day uniform largely consists of Vuori sweats and Athleta tops that make sense for someone that works (and works out) from home.

Aside from several pairs of high-waisted jeans and blouses that could work for a night out if I put some extra effort into whatever my hair and face is doing, my wardrobe isn’t as versatile as I want it to be. For example, colder weather has always been difficult to dress for because I grew up in a tropical climate and decades later, I still refuse to invest properly in clothing that will keep me warm when temps drop below 60 degrees.

When you live in San Diego, anything below 60 immediately prompts Ugg boots, puffer vests, and beanies. 

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Espresso Machine
The reason I rarely buy coffee in the wild these days.

Our espresso machine is like our first child. At first, its seemingly complicated features intimidated us. With time, it’s become a natural part of our everyday lives. Like our cohabitation, it’s still new. 

Every morning, I pad downstairs and make my way across the cool wood floors and into the sun-filled living room, where our kitchen is also located. The espresso machine’s sleek, shiny presence with all of its knobs and buttons says: Instant gratification does not exist here.

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Lisbon

A literary thank you letter to Ana, my Airbnb host during my summer in Lisbon last year, who did so much more for me than provide me with a comfortable stay just steps from Parque Eduardo VII. It turns out, I’d be one of her last guests, and I’m glad I made the cut.

I grew up in your kitchen, though we were acquaintances at best. I fumbled to light your gas stove, rummaged for the appropriate pots and pans to perform my pedestrian alchemy, burned my toast and attempted what you would characterize as a winter stew. It was the middle of summer in Lisbon, but it was one of the few things I could make by memory.

The sound of your espresso machine punctuated the a new day. Your ritual; two shakes of cinnamon and espresso downed in two gulps.

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