Chili probably isn’t most people’s first pick when it’s over 100 degrees out but the best part is you can make it in the morning and let it really meld during the day or you can do a faster version with a pressure cooker. The ease of prep and pots just feels like you’re doing less and when it’s hot…..no one wants to cook. This is fast, it’s delicious and you can really customize it with whatever you have on hand.

Promises this is Table Mountain. The location has been entirely wiped away within these images. Gone are its identifying features of flat mountain tops and lush wildflowers. No, this time of year smart people are avoiding the horse flies and danger noodles.

Sometimes you just really need to escape and take a hike in the middle of the hottest part of the day. Maybe that’s why the crickets were happy models. Too hot for even them to be bothered.

And there’s something magical about the way the grass glows as it blows in the light breeze. Sitting down to watch it’s dance, you discover all these other little moments. Textures. Shadows. Light bouncing off rocks. Little flowers that have refused to give into the summer heat.

We are told so often to look at the larger picture. And yet, the beauty is in the details. The smaller moments. The ones that drawn you back to earth.

My first car my Dad bought off a customer. A van. I think 1990. I'm pretty sure it was missing all the rows of seats too. Cause I remember laying down in it a lot in the 2 weeks I owned it.

My dad paid $500 and we drove over an hour to get it. I don't know how much research my Dad did prior to buying it. He liked to imagine himself fairly talented with cars...imagine being the operative word. DO NOT LET THAT MAN NEAR YOUR CAR. Trust me.

I have no idea what was wrong with the car. It took us a couple days to discover it. I wasn't driving that much yet. But it would get you where you were needing to go. And then it really just needed a little nap. For a few hours. No matter where you were. Like say....the pick-up/drop-off terminal of SFO. 😐

I remember sitting there with my best friend Gigi as we waited for the tow truck driver. 3 hours. Just turning the key and praying. Nada.

And then came the tow truck. I spotted it out of my rearview mirror. And I turned the key ONE LAST TIME....it started.

We bolted.

I was terrified of the bill. I knew my dad was mad.

I do not know what happened to that car. It disappeared the next day and was replaced with a 1988 Honda accord from the next door neighbor. He'd had a stroke a few years back and the vehicle was sitting in his garage. He basically gifted it to me with how little we paid.

When I left for college my mom told me that college towns have everything you need and I didn't need one. Plus she was paying out of state college tuition and I would survive.

I did. It forced me to have to ask friends for rides to Belle Vernon, 20ish mins away where the closest Walmart was. Or Eat N Park. And I remember karoke at a bar but there really wasn't much else to do. So not a big deal.

But I went to stay with my Uncle in New Jersey that first spring break. And I told my Grandma who wrote me a check for $11k with instructions to buy whatever i wanted for myself to drive.

I did JUST enough research. I paid the sticker price. I think I brought the guy I was dating with me but he just stood there as I hashed it all out. I mean it's not hard when you're paying cash and not negotiating. They were happy to take my money.

I bought a brand new Hyundai Accent. A little over $6500 walking out the door. I paid a year of car insurance cash. And bought a sweet stereo at best buy with a little remote.

It was bright red. two doors. NO AIR CONDITIONING. Manual.

I fucking loved that car. Until you know, I got pregnant and couldn't drive it cause of the belly. Ooooo, or the fun of putting a car seat into a two door? ooooooooo or the HORROR that was 118 degrees for a week straight here in California WHILE I HAD A BABY. We literally couldn't drive anywhere. You'd die. lol.

The problem is the next two cars.

I guess three if you count the Onata (Sonata). But that car my Dad bought for me. I researched the fuck out of it. Proposed it. Took him and my daughter to the dealership in Walnut creek where my Dad sat there negotiating the payment structure for HOURS ....

Ok, i didn't think the Onata had a story. But it does. The story of the lemon.

Because that's what it turned out to be. I always forget that horror show. But remembering my daughter yanking at me, BORED out of her mind as it took hours and hours. And me scared the whole time my Dad would change his mind.

I was already living with him. Well I had the house, he mostly lived with his girlfriend and would come back when he wanted a break. But we'd gotten so close while I was pregnant. We'd started this tradition of family dinner's on Thursday nights. Rotating houses/hosts. Playing board games. Watching Survivor. Just being a family. I FUCKING LOVED IT.

So of course I asked my Dad for help when I came home from work to find my husband gone. With all our stuff. And our child. AND NOT EVEN A FUCKING NOTE. Can you imagine the terror of walking in on that? At 1am, cause I worked at Blockbuster.

And here I was, asking him to fund a car while he was funding my divorce. And whole life. Reasons he yelled I was a cunt who owed him $80k at me when I kicked him out of my house. I personally think after 6 years in my downstairs room we were even.

But that car was trouble from day one. Something went wrong with the air. Back to the shop. Then there was an oil change mishap at the dealership and they forgot to put something back. Basically I ended up driving with no oil. Car was in the shop for over a month while we tried to figure out if it was salvageable. Eventually the S fell off the lettering on the back. And it forever became my Onata.

I got my first taste of the good SUV life when the co-parents parents upgraded their vehicle and gave me their Honda CR-V. It was older but the amount of space I had? FUCKING GLORIOUS. I could fit a whole stroller AND Costco groceries!?! WHAT IS THIS INSANITY?

I had been just WAITING for the Onata to die. Because it had to. There was no way I was gonna get a new used car otherwise. And then the miracle of the gift SUV...in gold. Literally. I was so happy.

And then we were heading to the library after the park on winter break when I stopped to let a pedestrian through the crosswalk. However our down doesn't do turn lanes down the main street cause technically i think its part of the freeway? Its very weird.

But the truck didn't see me stopped. And slammed right into our back. and of course cause i had been angled to turn, he bent the frame. I'd only had it a year. Totaled. 😭😭😭

And then I realized I that meant I got to go shopping. And AAA gave us a decent amount for it. I think the co-parents parents also chipped in some. Cause they knew we didn't make as much. They really are nice people.

So I had my budget and rules from the co-parent. Honda. The only thing I wanted was bluetooth connectivity. and larger suv. cause our kids were getting older and their shit takes up SOOOO much more space. i mean. im supposed to be moving a bed this week. lol.

I don't remember what happened. Weird right? Especially cause I remember screaming at him later "YOU DECIDED." I was very mad about having the choice taken away from me. Because that's what I do remember.

I was the one driving the vehicle. I was the one who needed it to function for my daily life. And I did get an SUV. A newer model of the vehicle i had. But if I remember right there was a larger pathfinder i wanted. To at least consider.

But Honda's are more reliable. And I don’t NEED bluetooth. And we only had two kids.

And my wants/needs really don't matter. At least that's what it felt like.

My oldest crashed the last car. The DAY she got her learners permit validated. Crashed into a stop sign and my engine never turned on again. I'd never taken her driving cause I was terrified of getting caught and losing custody. So that was her first day ever....poor thing was so traumatized it's why she doesn't drive now.

But it's funny to me cause this last story is because of that crash and I’m gonna have to replace my car from today's crash for her. It just feels like a weird full circle thing? It would have been nice if it had come after I had paid the damn thing off.

But it was 2021. We paid pandemic pricing. Because that was the real horror of the whole thing. There just were no cars available. So we had no negotiation power. It was just such a huge contrast from our 0.9% we got on the accord for the co-parent.

And the co-parent and I were already just so fucking done. Ruby kinda stalled me trying to escape for a bit there...just too busy being mom. But the amount of times I had told the co-parent I wanted out. That if shit didn't change. if whatever....i was gonna go....

Well he knew he was walking on eggshells with the pilot purchase. I lined up a whole list of cars to look at, starting with the pathfinder in town. It had been THE vehicle we'd spent years arguing about. might as well check it out.

I fucking hated it.

It was uncomfortable. Immediately so. My back hurt. And it drove weird. And the seat were fabric. We had a BABY.

PASS PASS PASS PASS.

But it was $10k lower in price than ALL the other cars on the list. It's the only reason I really included it. Cause if it could work, id have been down. The co-parent was thrilled. In his mind it checked all the boxes.....from the previous experience.

I insisted we look at the other cars. At least TRY. So we went to the next city. Car was sold right before we got there. At the next....same thing. And again. And again.

And then we got to the Honda dealership where he bought his car. And someone had JUST traded in a pilot. Leather seats. Bluetooth. Priced right around the top of our budget BUT IN BUDGET. And a moonroof. Oh and LOW MILAGE.

It looked like someone older had bought it for getting around town. MINE. I didn't let him argue. I didn't let him have a choice.

I told him i wanted that one.

Sweet with a little spicy afterkick from the ginger and sriracha, your friends will be asking you to bottle them up some to take home.

What you should eat. What you should wear. Where you should live. How productive you should be. How to decorate your house. Raise your kids. Spend your weekends. Find love. Heal. Hustle. Rest. Become the “best version” of yourself.

It’s exhausting.

Maybe that’s because “should” has never felt like an invitation. It feels like a grade. A measurement. A quiet reminder that there’s a right answer—and that if you aren’t living it, you’ve somehow fallen behind.

I’ve spent enough of my life chasing should. These days, I’m much more interested in could.

Could I learn to make pasta from scratch?

Could I take a road trip to somewhere I’ve never been?

Could I hang art on a wall because it makes me smile instead of because it matches the couch?

Could I photograph strangers? Read poetry? Grow tomatoes? Learn to surf at forty? Start over? Stay put? Make friends differently? Love differently? Build a career that doesn’t look like anyone else’s?

Not because I have to. Because I could. That’s the thread running through every page of this magazine.

You’ll find people making things simply because they wanted to. Places worth exploring. Recipes to try. Artists to discover. Conversations that might shift the way you see something. Ideas you may completely disagree with. Others that might quietly change your life.

None of it is meant to tell you what you should do. It’s simply another possibility. Because we can’t choose from options we don’t know exist.

Maybe you’ll turn the page and discover a hobby that becomes your favorite Saturday ritual. Maybe you’ll read about someone whose life looks nothing like yours and realize there’s more than one good way to build a meaningful life. Maybe you’ll close this magazine without changing a thing.

That’s okay too. This isn’t about becoming someone else. It’s about remembering that your life belongs to you. You only get one. I’d hate for any of us to spend it following a script we never stopped to question.

So here’s to curiosity. Here’s to possibility. Here’s to asking a different question. Not, “What should my life be?”

But…

“What could my life be?”

It's also insanely delicious, fast, and pretty darn healthy. Your kids will fall in love with the sweetness of the sauce. Your adult taste buds will appreciate a more sophisticated protein than the usual chicken (nuggets).

I serve mine with steamed rice and some veggies for a meal that could impress even the fanciest date.

Also, I have no association with Paprika 3 but I definitely recommend it. A lot of my recipes are lost to time- can we all have a moment of silence for the dead links…but with Paprika 3 you can save the recipe and cut out all this fluff about kids and dead links. And keep your recipes safe forever.

Oh, and the reason it’s NOT salmon? Cause it’s TROUT. Steelhead to be exact. When you’re on a budget, steelhead is often significantly cheaper, looks the same, tastes the same, cooks the same and supposedly is healthier. Not a food expert. But if you prefer salmon, use salmon.

But first an introduction. Some people may know me from Threads where I am regularly annoying people (men) with my overly direct communication and over-sharing about my life. It’s been three years of growing a community, learning that my art was always enough and just figuring out who I am as a human.

And it’s all lost to time.

It’s the best and worst thing about the platform. It’s a beautiful stream of consciousness, an endless party with conversations to jump into and out of when you need that connection. And when it’s gone, it’s pretty hard to find ever again. Just hidden away in the recesses of our minds.

I was having a conversation with an artist friend. Trying to explain my history. The growth. How Threads and Glass and all the people along the way shaped the choices I made to bring me to this point. And there was nothing to show. No post I could point to. No words of wisdom. No inspirational photo. Just whatever had been happening recently. The past quietly eviscerated without me noticing. My hands empty of offerings.

The answer has been staring back at me for quite a while. From the high school senior thesis where I literally wrote the paper on how to make a magazine to the wide variety of topics discussed on far too many platforms.

A magazine. A digital magazine to contain it all. And organize it all. Bring it all under one roof. It feels like a homecoming. A celebration of the beauty and wonder hidden in everyday life, told through a neurodivergent lens. It’s for the endlessly curious. The people who chase adventures, ask impossible questions, and find joy in exploring life, the universe, and everything.

The hardest part has been trying to explain the why. Who is this for? Why read it? What is the purpose?

And it really goes back to that conversation with my friend. I related. To their experiences. This is the connection. The meeting in the middle. A sharing of experience. A moment of feeling a little less alone. The world is a little less scary. Because we found each other.