Note Pad, #7

A closet update, the gift of gift giving (to others + yourself), and the home gadget I'd sworn off. Plus my Word of 2026.

Jan 13, 2026

New Year’s is my favorite holiday. I love the promise it holds. The built-in moment for reflection on the year past and introspection for the next year you’d like to foster. I have, however, come to temper my expectations and approach 2026 in a gentler way.

January has become our annual recalibration window. It’s the month we attempt to reconcile who we were with who we insist we will be. The calendar resets and every year we expect a new person to emerge in the 60 seconds that separate 23:59 to 00:00. In the flip to the top of another month, a midnight switch tacking a different digit at the end of the age we’re in, we expect to shed skin. The next 30 days are a baited breath anticipation of the next newest, greatest, shiniest version of ourselves we want to be. Gratitude for the person we already are isn’t even given a thought. This approach often does the opposite of what it promises. Instead, it makes it easy to be entrapped in a shame spiral. We become more preoccupied with the ways we’ve failed to force ourselves into a newly evolved form instead of quietly doing the small, sustaining work that would actually carry us towards our next self.

So! Rather than rushing to reinvent this month, I’m aiming to stretch into the new contours I want to occupy. The areas of my life I want to nurture, the things I want to embody for myself and those around me, as well as the priorities that have dramatically sharpened into focus. Instead of a fresh page (on the desk), I like to picture an inch of space I can reach towards. An aura, almost. What can I do this day, this hour, this second, to edge towards that new perimeter. I invite you to join me.

The rest of the Note Pad below is a scrapbook of anecdotes I’ve squirrelled away onto my Notes app (as the name implies). Updates from home, including our new closets, and my new favorite item of clothing. Plus, my Word of 2026 I’ve been noodling on.

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Soon Floof Will Get Better: I wanted to express a heartfelt thanks for the outpouring of messages I received about our dear Floof. In case you missed it, I shared on Instagram the tenuous start 2026 has gotten off to. In the early days of the new year, we needed to rush our sweet cat, Floof, to an emergency vet. It was a week flushed with appointments and overnight hospital stays to investigate issues and regain his strength.

Floof is my first pet. Adopted as a senior cat at 8, we’ve now had him for half his life at 16. It’s the first time I’ve come to grips with the most painful part of pet ownership. The reality that their tiny, furry lives within the timespan of ours is precious and ephemeral. Short. Always much too short. There’s frustration and sadness in not being able to explain to this tiny creature why he has to take yet another scary car ride to a foreign place with unforgiving lights and strangers prodding his drug-addled body. It breaks my heart that I can’t explain all these things to him and that I’m trying my best to be an advocate for his health.

I’ve never before had to so abruptly face the fragility of life. It felt like an airbag going off in my face. Not to wax too much about it, but it was the fastest way to filter life’s “inbox.” Everything shuddered to a halt. In the disorienting stillness there came a rapid reprioritization of the things that deserve your finite time, attention, and energy. Consequently, the “spam” folder took care of itself. In 2026, I hope this filtering skill only gets stronger.

Floof is currently scheduled for surgery this week with a peaceful stay at home in the interim. I’m sure he’s grateful to not be stowed into his carrier again (as am I to not have to do it!). If you’re able to put positive energy into the world on his behalf, it’s deeply appreciated.

In My Heart Is A German Christmas Market: In more joyful arenas of life, a buzzy recap of the holidays. Every year, my little nuclear family finetunes our December schedule. We make good on returning to the traditions that bring us joy like the German Christmas Market, the local light shows that are truly resplendent (Canyon Lights at Capilano Suspension Bridge, Lights at Lafarge), and the meals that we tuck into with fervor (lasagna on Christmas Day: trust!). We’re also great at tacking on new things that add to the spirit of the season. After all, every tradition has to start somewhere. This year, we introduced Chinese food and rice krispie treats on Christmas Eve. Not particularly novel, but a new concept to us that we’ll be sure to repeat next year.

The Holidays Linger Like Really Good Leather: I’m the first to admit I’m a “one for you, one for me” shopper — much to the chagrin of anyone purchasing presents for me … sorry! So, here’s the tale of two leather goods.

A few months ago my mom showed me the canvas tote she lugs around to get to work. A fraying, flimsy, dingy thing. At the time, she mentioned a backpack would be ideal for both her weekday commute and weekend outings. Being a good gift giver is taking stock of these anecdotal admissions year-round to then act on when the receiver least expects it. The solution that came to my mind was Poppy Barley, a Canadian brand I love and have worked with for years now. Their leather shoes have worn in beautifully for me, which I’m confident will be the case for their leather carrying goods. In that regard, I’ll let my mom’s unwrapping reaction (above) do all the talking.

The Beyond Backpack* was, as she puts it, “a wish come true.”

A tale of two dream leather gifts. Backpack* by Poppy Barley and leather jacket by Whistles.

Speaking of leather goods? I’ve been after a new leather jacket for years. Not necessarily the tight moto styles popularized in the mid-late 2010s. Rather, something more relaxed that carried a timeless, well-worn sense of confidence. During Black Friday, Whistles was having a 30% off sale. I jumped at the chance to snap up their Clean Bonded Leather Jacket, a piece I’d had on my wishlist since checks spreadsheet February 2025. I’ve since worn it with so many outfits. A peek below at its styling potential! And I swear I could have kept going with ease …

I put a timer on my phone for 15 minutes and ta-da. This was all just on the fly, based on intuition to fill my three words (Minimal, Edgy, Classic). The results of a cohesive closet and a very good jacket. In case you’re interested, I’ve linked everything else **HERE**.

Per my three style words, it’s comfortably filled both the Edgy and Minimal worlds, thanks to its fabrication and sleek cut.

‘Tis The Damn Season For Organizing: Like many people at the start of a new year, I’ve been searching for a clean slate. Purging items, tossing things up on resale sites, then voraciously tidying and organizing what remains. This year, I took this behavior to the next level with some structural renovating in our home. Namely, reconfiguring the entryway and primary bedroom closets plus media wall of our living space. I’ve long felt both the reach-in closets of our home could make better use of their square footage. I’ve also wanted to streamline our television area, taking advantage of a wall bump out to integrate open and closed storage and a better spot for our television. After some research, I tapped California Closets to take lead on the custom design. Note: I paid full price for their services - CC has no idea who I am!

(Left) Closed storage in the entryway closet means never having to look at our spare toilet paper rolls ever again. Clouds are parting, angels are singing. (Right) The immense pleasure of matching hangers cannot! be! beat!

California Closets measured, proposed concepts, put up with my many questions and incessant tweaks, built, and installed everything in three months. Speedy! In the closets, we went with white framework and black hardware. For the media wall, a dark ebony surround and a light oak backing. My style is minimal, airy, and Scandi-leaning. This felt just right.

I’m still futzing with the styling of our new media wall and turning over all our hangers to these slim and sleek gold ones (every millimeter matters!) but, so far, I’m thrilled with how each space feels. Everything has more space to breathe and feels more functional. Unsightly things are stowed away and beautiful things are given their place. Ahhhh.

The next few projects? Swapping out light fixtures and adding drapery. Home takes time.

Once again, she’s never claimed herself to be a food stylist. My meal of choice is also my dish of choice: a BOWL.

I’m Just A Girl On A Mission, But I’m Ready to Air Fry: If you’re this deep into the newsletter first of all thank you and second of all yes we are indeed scraping the barrel for lyrical puns. It’s been years of the craze and I had so far been immune to the allure of an air fryer. Our kitchen is small and my tolerance for visual clutter is even smaller so a countertop kitchen appliance never appealed to me. But Boxing Day came, an air fryer went on sale, and I now must woefully admit that I’ve used it every day since. Crisping up veg is a dream. Baking off protein is so fast. This recipe has made getting back into the boring-but-necessary chicken breast and broccoli diet post-Christmas indulgences an absolute breeze.

As I considered the word I want to embody this year, I felt resistance. Why do I have to change? Why am I working so hard to find a new facet of myself to turn over and unlock? It’s the first time I’ve questioned needing a new word to characterize the year. Not because what I chose last year is unfinished or unaccomplished - but because it feels like a guiding principle that still rings true to how I want to approach life.

Per my slower, gentler start to the year, I worked backwards from the life I want to the word I felt would manifest that reality.

Straight from my Notes app as I noodled on my annual word.

In 2025, my word was flourish.

In 2026, my word is try.

“I’ve never been a natural. All I do is try try try.”
from “mirrorball” by Taylor Swift

The fuel of each of those note pad ideations is the emotional stamina that trying commands. If I were to take an honest audit of my life, I’ve always been this way. I have never been nonchalant. I am, in fact, extremely chalant. I’m incapable of being casual. I lean in. I pull close. I want things. It’s palpable. The only thing that’s changed is that, for the first time, I want to be seen that way.

To some, this is cringe. Admitting it, even more so. We treat effort like it’s embarrassing. But what’s more embarrassing is the normalized compulsion to avoid letting the splintered parts of ourselves become one expressive whole.

There was a time when we said what we felt and we meant what we said. We picked up the phone. We texted back immediately. We expressed emotions and opinions freely. We took the time to memorize each other. We showed up for our friends, family, and communities without buffering interaction with irony or sarcasm. Detachment wasn’t currency. Affection wasn’t something to decode. Connection wasn’t a psychological chess match where the person who cared the least held the most power. We’ve grown so accustomed to believing that there is strength in silence that we’ve completely bypassed the strength it requires to be soft. In the name of protection, we turned vulnerability into a liability. But you can’t cheat authenticity. Emotional restraint isn’t a virtue. There are no shortcuts to truly knowing someone. Being disengaged isn’t boundaries or healing, it’s fear in better branding. I will try to be a soft place to land for anyone who needs it.

The luxury of blocking, muting, or ghosting people has come at the cost of our tolerance windows for constructive conversation. Our capacity for empathy is eroded with every debate a bot rage-baits us into. It’s come at the cost of our resilience to sit with discomfort and our ability to work through discourse or misunderstandings with actual human beings. We’re so averse to intimacy we’d rather turn off or turn on each other rather than earnestly express how we really feel and make the effort to understand why someone else feels the opposing way that they do. We assume the worst in people instead of asking the hard questions. I will try to guard my boundaries without hardening them and stay open to dialogue, even when agreement isn’t the outcome.

Community doesn’t reward the person who withholds the most. It rewards the people willing to be seen, even when that means looking a little foolish. I think that’s what we’re missing: the willingness to be silly. To play the fool. To unburden our leaden hearts. To laugh at ourselves when we say the wrong thing. To acknowledge the misstep instead of disappearing after it. Growth isn’t about getting everything right the first time. It’s about being able to say, “I messed up,” and then showing up the next day a little more aware, a little kinder, a little better than before. I will try to show up and laugh at imperfection.

None of this will be easy. This requires letting not just the varnished parts of myself I capture in filtered photosets be seen. But the messy parts, too. The parts that are lonely, insecure, and deeply sensitive. The parts that get shredded by an anonymous comment that slithers forth from my “hidden requests” folder or the pieces of me who are bedridden by scathing critique. The truth is, we can claim to audit habits, draft manifestos, install apps, and announce intentions. Writing the sentence is easy. Interrupting the story is hard. January creates a fantasy that is tidy and satisfying. A clean schism between the two versions of you: A before and an after. A visible transformation completed tidily within 30 days. I’m sure it’s not surprising, but that is rarely how change is ushered in. A new way of living doesn’t arrive on schedule, nor does it obey the calendar year. It doesn’t even reliably unfold over 12 months. It happens gradually, then all at once.

Real evolution is built from the smallest efforts. The choice you make without ceremony. The habit you keep even when no one is watching. The thought you gently pause and redirect. These moments are so minor they feel inconsequential. They are not. They are the work. They are the beauty in the trying.

I guess I just wanted you to know that.