Fun Fact

Every year, I convince myself I’ll keep the Christmas decorating simple. And every year, I do not. Especially after being away in France last year, I wanted this Christmas at home to feel special. So I rolled out the red carpet—bows of holly, cedar, and berries, planters stuffed with festive greens, and arrangements inside that even I was impressed with. Along with the greenery, I set out the Christmas village—a family tradition. I have to say, it’s still fun to arrange the trees, snow, and tiny characters frozen in what appears to be a much simpler time.

And let’s be honest, it’s always more fun to decorate a Christmas tree than to take it down. As I remove each decoration, it becomes painfully clear that I went overboard. I remember thinking while I was decorating, it needs to look full—must put more on the tree. Well, it was full. And now I’m quietly cursing myself as I remove an endless parade of precious Radko’s, each one carefully returned to its equally precious box, saved for another year.

The lights are another twisted nightmare—on and off the tree, in and out of branches. This was Rob’s first time tackling this festive (?) task, which made it even funnier. You could practically hear his inner dialogue: the initial optimism (No problem, I’ll do the lights), then the pause, the pulling, the growing realization that this was not going to be quick, and finally—where the “F” did the cord go?

For the record, the tree and all the holiday décor are now down and packed back into my storage locker. When it’s over, it’s over. Right? Except for that one ornament dangling at the bottom of the tree like forbidden fruit. There’s always one that escapes, and it will sit on a bookshelf and be reunited with its family of decorations next Christmas.

I meant to write a Christmas-in-Paris post, but somewhere between baking shortbread, Christmas lunches, Hannukkah parties, my son’s birthday, and putting up the tree, I forgot. The next best thing is a post from a few years ago—when we travelled to Paris for the holidays to visit my older son while he was attending school. You can read that here.

As usual, I get a little emotional around the holidays. No matter how carefully I try to make everything feel just right, life is constantly shifting. Not in a tragic way—just in that quiet, unmistakable way that change tends to do.

What a Year

It’s that strange in-between moment when I start thinking about the year I just had. And what a year it was. It’s a little mind-blowing how quickly it all flew by.

This time last year, we were in Notting Hill, excited to ring in the New Year at a small Italian restaurant just two blocks from our apartment. Nothing over the top. We didn’t know anyone. It was new to us—and that was the fun of it. By the end of the evening, we were chatting with locals, people were dancing, and for a little while, nothing else seemed to matter.

Paris gave me energy this year—but so did travel in general. Paris just happened to be where I felt it most clearly. I felt myself fully there. Maybe it’s the history, or the fact that there’s always a new incredible art exhibit always within reach, whenever I want it. Or the busy cafes and shops that always draw me in.

But everywhere we went, I noticed the same thing: I slowed down. I spent more time reading, learning, and paying attention. Without a packed schedule or the feeling that I had to be somewhere or doing something, I felt calmer. More present. Okay—and I discovered some amazing inexpensive wines too, which always makes me smile.

That sense of ease followed me home. I’m more intentional about how I spend my time now. I pick and choose. I say no more easily, and I’m letting go of things—and people—that no longer feel aligned.

The rest? Just things.

It still makes me laugh that my entire life fits into a 14 x 6-foot storage locker (omg, it’s probably smaller). I gave a lot away, and honestly, I don’t miss any of it—which probably means I didn’t need it. There’s something freeing about realizing how little you actually require.

I’m trying not to work myself up over life or the small things that used to set me off. Still a work in progress. (Enter Mel Robbins and Let Them. I’m doing my best—some days better than others.)

Travel has a way of teaching you to let go, adjust, and not sweat the small stuff.

As the new year begins, I’m carrying that forward—less urgency, more presence, and a little more trust in what already feels right.

Happy New Year!

p.s. My next session on not sweating the small stuff happens in Paris (lucky me), next month 😉