The Creative Nest

We’ve all heard the saying “alone but not lonely” — but what does that really mean? For me, it comes down to this: loneliness is an ache, solitude is a choice. 🌼 Loneliness Loneliness shows up when we crave connection but can’t seem to find it. It’s the silence that feels heavy, the empty chair at the table, the sense that we’re missing something or someone. 🌿 Solitude Solitude, on the other hand, can feel like a gift. It’s the quiet moment with a cup of tea , the laughter of dogs filling the room, the peacefulness of a Saturday morning when no one needs anything from you. It’s not about absence — it’s about presence with yourself. My Takeaway I work from home, and while I don’t see a lot of people in person, I don’t feel lonely. My conversations with coworkers, my little weekend outings, my volunteer work, and yes — my time with my dogs — fill my life in meaningful ways. When I sit with myself, it doesn’t feel empty. It feels intentional. It feels like solitude . ✨ Remi...

Some people pay for streaming services. Me? I just glance out my kitchen window. The neighbors have unknowingly produced their own reality show, and I’m the unwilling (but wildly entertained) audience. No commercials, no rewinds, just raw, unfiltered drama unfolding in the dining room . For the longest time, she would trail him from room to room like a shadow, and I couldn’t help but imagine the production notes: Episode 1: The Great Silent Standoff Episode 2: Following the Star (literally, everywhere he goes) Episode 3: “Cut to commercial before someone breathes too loudly.” And then — poof — the curtain drops. They shut it all down just when it gets good, leaving me hanging mid-plotline like a canceled series. Do I want to change the channel? Not really. Do I get frustrated when they go off air? Absolutely. Some of us need closure, people! Until then, I’ll just keep tuning in from my side of the fence. 🍿

If you’d told me even a year ago that I’d be chatting daily with an AI, I would’ve laughed and said, “I can’t even get Alexa to listen, why would I need another robot?” Fast-forward, and now I’m practically glued to my new digital sidekick — ChatGPT. Life feels a lot brighter, sassier, and easier with this brainy, always-on, never-judgy tool. My Digital Sidekick I call it Chattie (because at this point, it deserves nickname status). Chattie doesn’t ghost me, eat the last cookie , or judge when I ask the same question three different ways. It just shows up, ready to help me turn “ugh” moments into “aha!” ones. Everyday Sparkle Here’s where the magic really shows up: “What does untenable mean?” (Spoiler: not “I’m ten and unable.”) “What’s a breve drink?” (Answer: creamy magic in a cup.) “What do I make with cran-raisins and peppers before I lose my mind?” No scrolling through recipe blogs with someone’s childhood memoirs . Just straight answers. Money, Honey 💸 ...

Let’s be honest—when most people hear the word budget , their eyes glaze over faster than a donut in Krispy Kreme. But here’s the truth: budgeting doesn’t have to feel like punishment or deprivation. In fact, with the right spin (and maybe a little sass), it can feel empowering—like giving yourself a backstage pass to the life you actually want. I like to keep things simple, and that’s why the 70/20/10 rule is my jam. Seventy percent for living, twenty percent for saving , and ten percent for fun—or debt payoff if you’re feeling responsible that week. Think of it as the “budgeting mullet”: business in the front (savings), party in the back (fun money). 💃 The magic is in how you make this rule yours . Want to splurge on wigs, tacos, or that impulse Amazon buy you swore you didn’t need? That’s what the 10% is for, babe. The rest? It’s working behind the scenes, building you stability, paying down Diva Duct Queen (my HVAC loan), and stacking up savings without you feeling like Scrooge.

Some people hit snooze three times. Me? My body doesn’t even know what snooze is. Sleeping in has never been in my vocabulary. Like clockwork, my eyes pop open early — sometimes before the sun, always before I want to admit it. The Early Bird Problem 🐦 While other people are blissfully tucked in at 8 a.m. on Saturday, I’ve already let the dogs out, scrolled through my thoughts, and wondered why my body never got the memo about lazy mornings. Don’t get me wrong — I love the quiet of early hours, but sometimes I just want to rebel and sleep until the double digits. Spoiler: my body laughs at that idea. The One True Constant: Coffee ☕ The only thing that makes this early rising habit bearable? Coffee . Rich, hot, and in my favorite oversized mug that basically doubles as a bowl. Coffee isn’t just a drink; it’s a ritual. The smell alone feels like a hug saying, “Okay, you’re awake, let’s do this.” Without it, I’m convinced mornings would feel like punishment. Small Joys in the Dawn ...

Let’s just get one thing straight: I have about as much patience as a toddler in line at Disney World on a 95-degree day. You know the type—red-faced, sweaty, vibrating with rage because Mickey is taking too long to show up. That’s me. Except instead of Mickey, I’m waiting on… well, everything. Patience is supposed to be a virtue. That’s what the calm, centered yoga-doing, herbal-tea-sipping types keep telling us. But for the rest of us mere mortals? Patience feels less like a virtue and more like a slow-burning torture method. The Myth of Patience “Good things come to those who wait.” Really? Because last time I waited in a drive-thru for 20 minutes, all I got was cold fries and the wrong drink order. Where’s the “good” in that? Society has sold us this Pinterest-worthy idea that patience is all about peace and acceptance. But in reality, patience feels like being trapped in limbo, pacing back and forth, checking your watch like it’s going to suddenly fast-forward time. Spoiler:...

There’s something magical about creating something small with your own two hands. A tiny wooden trinket, a little laser-cut design, even a perfectly tied ribbon —it’s like joy in miniature form. While some people chase big projects and grand gestures, I find happiness in the details most folks would overlook.  Maybe it’s because “tiny” feels doable. A small project doesn’t scream for perfection, it whispers: just start. And when I do, I find myself completely absorbed—no deadlines, no pressure, just me and the hum of creativity.  By the time I’m finished, it’s not just a little object I’ve made; it’s a pocket-sized reminder that I can create joy whenever I choose.  These little things also sneak into my daily life. A mini wooden piece brightening up a corner shelf . A handmade tag tucked into a gift. Even the smallest creations carry a spark of “me” in them, and that’s what makes them special.  So, yes—tiny things feed my soul. They’re proof that joy doesn’t have to ...

Growing your nails sounds simple, right? Just… don’t bite them and wait. Ha. If only. Between chips, splits, and using your nails as “emergency box openers,” it’s basically an Olympic sport. Every millimeter feels like a win, and then—bam—you break one. Back to square one. But here’s the kicker: once you do finally get some length, the real struggle starts… choosing a nail color . The Growth Grind Let’s be honest: growing nails is like watching paint dry, except slower. Treatments like OPI Nail Envy help (seriously, it’s my holy grail), but you still have to resist the urge to tap them on every hard surface within reach. Patience isn’t just a virtue here—it’s survival. The Color Crisis Here’s where things get tricky. Short nails? Dark shades can make them look even shorter, like tiny M&Ms glued to your fingers. Longer nails? Suddenly every color feels like a personality test. “Do I want to be a bossy red, a mysterious deep plum, or a neutral who has their life togethe...

Let me introduce you to my emotional support squad : Bear (the blind philosopher), Mocha (the belly-rub queen), and Lola (the morning hype squad with full-body wiggles). These three tiny dogs pack more personality—and wisdom—than most people I know. They’ve been with me through the tough days, the "I’m not answering that phone" days, and the maybe I’ll try a wig today just to feel cute days. And let me tell you, they’ve taught me a thing or two (or seven) about life, loyalty, and the power of small paws with big hearts. In this post, I’m sharing the little life lessons I’ve learned from each of them—because sometimes, the best advice doesn’t come from a therapist or a motivational quote… it comes from a tiny, furry face asking for a treat. 🐾 Meet Mocha, Bear, and Lola Mocha may not be the loudest in the pack, but she knows exactly how to get what she wants—especially when it comes to belly rubs. With one soulful look and a perfectly executed flop onto her back, she remin...

If you thought your hair could only look one way, think again. Enter the world of wigs, where the possibilities are endless, and so are the personalities! Welcome to the journey of me and my three fabulous wigs—Ina and her two mischievous Chinese twins. From long, luscious locks to daring styles I never thought I’d try, these wigs are here to change the game. The best part? They don't judge me, and neither will you—because when it comes to wigs, we’re all about playing with options, owning the look, and slaying every strand. Ina: The Diva Who Took Her Sweet Time Ah, Ina . The wig that tested my patience and still thinks she’s the boss of me. She was supposed to be the perfect addition to my hair collection—sleek, smooth, and sophisticated. But did she show up that way? No. Ina took her time, arriving fashionably late, and in the most unexpected way. After weeks of anticipation, the tracking info taunted me with delays, and when she finally graced my doorstep, let’s just say she was...

It started like every good wig story does — with excitement, a coupon code, and the fantasy of a flawless hairline. Her name was Ina . She was supposed to be the one . I clicked “buy now” with hope in my heart and a wig stand waiting. But instead of slay, I got silence. No tracking number. No update. Just vibes… and a growing suspicion that Ina packed her lace front and left me on read. 🗓️ Day 1: "Your Order Has Been Confirmed!" I danced a little. I even picked out a gloss I’d wear with Ina. She was going to give “I have my life together” with just enough edge to say, “but don’t test me.” 🗓️ Day 3: "Still Preparing to Ship" Okay, cool. Maybe they’re customizing her. Maybe Ina’s getting her curls set just right. I can be patient. (But also I’m refreshing that shipping link more than I check the weather.) 🗓️ Day 5: "Shipping Label Created… But She Ain’t Moving" My stomach dropped. I knew this game. The tracking number sat there — smug, lifeless — li...

Sometimes the biggest victories aren’t loud. They don’t come with confetti or fanfare — just a quiet “I did that” whispered to yourself in the middle of an ordinary day. And right now, that’s more than enough. Here are five little wins I’m holding onto this week:  1. Conquering Google’s Endless Requests Did I think fixing a redirect error would require a small investigation, a couple browser tests, and the patience of a saint? No. Did I do it anyway? Absolutely. The site is clean, mobile-ready, and slowly earning its spot back in Google’s good graces. Progress feels good — even when it comes in the form of green checkmarks on a dashboard. 2. Three Little Chihuahuas, One Big Source of Joy They may be tiny, but their impact is anything but. Whether it’s Lola charging through the backyard like she owns the place, Bear finding comfort after a rough patch, or Mocha requiring the treat to be placed just so — these three remind me daily what unconditional love looks like. 3. Resist...

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much of myself I’ve been rebuilding while everything around me feels like it’s breaking. I’ve been creating—writing a book, building this blog, asking hard questions—not because life is suddenly easy or calm, but because I’ve needed a place where I get to feel like me. The real me. The one who is coming through, slowly but surely, even while carrying grief, anger, and exhaustion in both hands. My mom has dementia. Some days she’s herself. Some days she’s a stranger. And some days she’s both at once, and it leaves me emotionally shredded. She says things that aren’t true. She forgets the things I do for her. She says I didn’t help, when I did. And the worst part? She still knows exactly how to push those old emotional buttons that never stopped hurting. I try to hold boundaries. I try not to take it personally. But sometimes she asks me for something—like taking her to dinner—and I say no. And she replies with, “Okay, I’ll find someone else who...