Lately, I’ve been down on myself for being ten pounds heavier than I used to be. And I’m not talking about pre-baby weight, either. It almost sounds funny to say that—my kids are old enough to have their own kids! Somehow during the last five years or so, it just crept up on me. Well-intentioned friends pointed to my diet, which immediately made me feel defensive. But then I had to admit that I could do better.

I started with the first meal of the day. I’ve told you about my love of flavored coffee creamer and the struggle to stop using it because it’s full of sugar. I love my morning coffee—but not black. First, I replaced the creamer with honey … but didn’t love it. When I added a little cinnamon, that small change made all the difference. I’ve also discovered that flavored coffee is very good with a little honey. My favorite is French roast with hazelnut flavoring.

Next, I removed the cheese from my omelet. I love eggs for breakfast. In fact, I love an egg breakfast for dinner, too. Especially a three-cheese omelet with ooey, gooey melted cheddar, Gouda, and Swiss. I made Julia Child’s iconic French omelet instead—two well-beaten eggs cooked in a hot sauté pan with one tablespoon melted butter. It cooks in about twenty-seconds, and it’s heavenly. Season it with a little salt and pepper, and top it all off with fresh chives or parsley if you have some on hand.

I generally pack my lunch for work, and it’s almost always a salad. Two of my favorites are Greek salad and romaine, with a salmon patty and half an avocado. The ingredient that needed replacement was the salad dressing. I didn’t realize it, but most salad dressings are made with seed oils, which have been linked to inflammation. This cancels the benefits of the Omega-3 fatty acids in the fish and the avocado. It was easy to make my own dressing with ingredients I already had … olive oil, red wine vinegar, Italian seasoning blend, and salt and pepper. I learned a secret ingredient in my Greek cooking class—olive juice! The olive juice makes the dressing taste so fresh. I love it!

The most difficult thing for me was snack time. The recommendation is NO SNACKS. I just can’t seem to do it, at least not every day. My favorite snacks are tortilla chips. I love them with fresh cilantro lime salsa. I love them with fresh hummus, laced with cumin and parsley. I love them right out of the bag! This week, I made fresh hummus, so when I got home from work, I cut some carrots, celery, and cucumbers to dip into it instead of the chips. It was okay and tided me over while I made dinner. I confess that I missed the chips.

Dinner was going to be easy, I thought. The problem is that I’m still stuck on what my grandma taught me: “Dinner should have a protein, a starch, and a veg.” I almost always make potatoes, pasta. or rice with dinner. I say this is because my husband likes it, but I usually eat a little too. I suppose that if it’s not good for me, it’s not good for him. I experimented with two replacements: sweet potatoes rather than russets … or if I’m being honest, in place of instant mashed! I don’t know who invented instant mashed potatoes, but what a genius! They are so easy, and it says on the bag that it’s 100% real potatoes. I also tried zucchini rather than pasta. Years ago, I bought a Spiralizer, a gadget that cuts a zucchini into thin, noodle-like strips. I blanched the “noodles” in boiling salted water and topped them with shrimp sautéed in olive oil and fresh basil. We ate sweet potatoes that had been peeled, cubed, and roasted with grilled salmon. I liked both replacements and figured I saved about 200 calories in each meal. My husband claimed he was hungry an hour after dinner.

In his book Atomic Habits, James Clear suggests that making 1% improvements over time can lead to lasting change. I think I can do that. Rather than trying to completely overhaul my diet, I’ll keep going with one ingredient at a time.

The way I did it. Better than that.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

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Completely spur of the moment.

I was at church when the text chirped at me, which reminded me to silence my phone. That may be the first of the several “Is this a good idea?” thoughts that entered my mind when considering going to a live comedy show on a Sunday afternoon.

I’d been feeling defensive about my lack of spontaneity, so I agreed to meet some friends at the club for brunch and a show.

Generally, I’m leery of live comedy. It’s a self-preservation skill I learned when I was running an independent movie theater that had a live, local improv comedy show on Thursday nights. Their weekly shows were hilarious. Remember the TV show Whose Line is it Anyway? Those shows were a lot like that and hilariously different each week. But once a month, the show was strictly for adults only. They called it their Blue Show. That was my cue to hang out in the back, checking the stock, or running reports.

My husband would say that I’m a goody-two-shoes. I like to say that I don’t need to hear about what happens in your bathroom or under your covers—some things are better kept to yourself! It would be fine with me if I never heard a dick joke again. And I’m not talking the Tom, Dick, and Harry kind of joke.

My preferred comedy flavors are LeAnne Morgan and Nate Bargatze. Both have specials on Netflix that had me laughing so loud that my husband came running from the other room to find out what was going on. Egads … I’m just digging the hole deeper and confirming my husband’s goody-two-shoes opinion of me. I did it again—I can’t help myself. And who even says egads these days?!

The second time I questioned my judgment in accepting today’s spur-of-the-moment invitation, I was seated in the second row feeling sorry for the couple in the front row, who were asked about their sex life. They actually handled it well … They shrugged and announced that they had been married for 22 years. I was sure glad I wasn’t in the front row. They were singled out by every comedian who took the stage before the headliner appeared.

My husband, on the other hand, probably would have loved being in the front row spotlight. One of my favorite things about him is the way he makes me laugh. He works for it—50% of the time his jokes aren’t funny—they’re too crass, or it’s just bad humor. But the rest of the time, he has me in stitches. He told me that was good enough for him, and I guess that goes for me, too.

If I use that same ratio—funny 50% of the time—I’d say my comedy club experience was a success! The comedy club hostess, Cristy B, was beautiful, gracious, and crude. She told the most aforementioned dick jokes, and I laughed because it was so unexpected! The next two comedians told jokes about drugs, sex, and marijuana. Right away, you know I didn’t get them because I’ve used the word “marijuana.” I’m sure they said POT. I realize that I’m not helping my coolness factor at all.

This seems like a good time to tell you the story that has my husband in stitches every time he re-tells it. I was working as a bartender in Daytona Beach, and one of the hot young barbacks asked, “Do you burn?” and I replied, “Burn what?” I don’t think he ever talked to me again. Obviously, I wasn’t playing in the same sandbox as he was.

The final comedian to take the stage was Rauce Padgett, the headliner who told jokes about marriage, family, and parenthood. Not just sex. He told us he got his start as a character at the Universal Studios theme park, where I’m sure he had to be “G” rated. He had everyone in the room laughing. Like the comics before him, he picked on the two couples in the front row, and he dubbed another guy Ozempic Santa. His charm was that he brought them into his misfortune rather than asking them to share theirs. And that was funny.

The way I did it. Laughing against my better judgment.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

Read more

Nothing fancy. No special outfit or shoes. Just a simple walk down my street with the idea of noticing everything.

To me, delight is joy, thankfulness, butterflies, and goosebumps. It’s something I reach for. That little lifting of your heart when your senses are flooded with a memory or an unexpected experience. It can be simple, like when your morning alarm plays your favorite song … or majestic, like the sunrise over the ocean.

However, it can also be elusive.

Before my walk today, I was running a conversation over and over again in my head. The day before, I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while, and she was complaining about everything and nothing. Mostly about the state of the world, and in her opinion, the grass was much greener on the other side of the pond. I could tell that she wanted me to agree with her. I nodded and smiled, but didn’t say anything. I left feeling wretched and missing my friend.

I was still stewing and wondering if I should have said something. Perhaps, “You’re comparing apples to oranges” or “Whole countries in Europe are smaller than one state!” But then I caught myself. I doubted she was open to a different viewpoint. And why was I letting it affect my mood so much?

The first thing I noticed on my walk was the sound of the cicadas. The buzzing of the males in search of a mate was interspersed with birds calling back and forth from trees on either side of the street. Standing still for a moment I noticed the sound of the breeze was different when heard through the palm tree, the magnolia, and the live oak. The cicadas, the birds, and the breeze were playing nature’s concert. With the slow, rhythmic sounds of summertime, I could feel my tense shoulders relax. I inhaled a deep breath through my nose and filled my lungs with the salty, sweet, scented air.

As I continued, crossing from side to side to chase the shade from the trees above, I stopped at the firecracker plant. The red flowers were so bright that they seemed to glow against the green foliage. I remembered that the kids liked to pluck the flowers and suck the nectar, stretching their tongues like hummingbird beaks to reach the sweetness … and then stumbling and laughing at the sight of themselves. I plucked a few and giggled, feeling like a thief getting away with a prize.

Having nearly completed my circuit, I opened the gate to the backyard and spotted an almost ripe pineapple. I had forgotten about it. And the best part is that I grew it! Months ago, I stuck a discarded pineapple top into an empty planter. How thrilling to see what it has become.

My short, unscheduled walk opened my eyes and my heart to the simple wonders that surround us. That’s the thing with delight: the more you look for it, the more you find it. And rarely will that happen if you’re rushing or anxious.

The way I did it. Move your body, change your mood.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

Read more

For this week’s experiment I went on a delight walk. I’ll tell you the way I did it on Saturday. But, I realized I left something out of my story, and that is how thankful I am for you! Thank you for subscribing, commenting and following my Empty Mess. It means so much to me.

This fall, hopefully about September 10th, I plan to release my second Empty Mess book. One of the items on my “To'-Do” list from my publisher is to get reviews.

And that is why I’m reaching out on a Monday morning. Receiving a review from you would be fantastic! Reviews are printed on the book jacket and also on my website and other book retail sights and are an important part of the book launch process.

As a thank you for your time and consideration, I will mail you a signed paperback copy of the book! And it’s easy. Simply reply to this email, or direct at Stephanie@emptymess.com. Please include if you are a parent and how many children, and grandchildren you have.

Thank you! It’s our time to shine.

XO, ~Stephanie

I bought a weighted vest.

It was a funny YouTube video that pushed me to move the vest from my cart and finally place the order. In the video, a couple in their fifties danced down a street in their neighborhood, singing the praises of their weighted vests to the tune of “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast. I’m a sucker for a good parody.

Wearing a weighted vest is one of several suggestions in the “longevity” column on my long list of things to try. I hesitated for a while on this experiment … partly because I wasn’t sure my shoulder could tolerate the weight and partly because they just look a little dorky.

Coming off the high of actually enjoying going to the gym and slogging through the circuit after I added listening to an audio book to my routine, I thought I might wear the weighted vest while I listened to the book at home. I’ve also wanted to walk the dog more, and that would be yet another excellent opportunity to wear the vest. It’s been difficult to walk him now that he’s in his teenage phase. He gets distracted and pulls toward every squirrel, dog, and person—basically anything that moves in his line of sight. The last thing I want is another broken shoulder! But even if I don’t walk the dog, I’m standing a lot at home, mostly at the kitchen sink. Fortunately, I have a nice view, but it sure seems like I’m stationed at that sink an awful lot. I may as well wear the vest to add some weight to my weight-bearing exercise.

Does that count? The advice I’ve read is to do more weight-bearing exercises. Does standing at the kitchen sink count as exercise?

Hold, please…I’ll look it up!

Okay, I’m back, and the answer is yes … kind of. “Wearing a weighted vest increases the gravitational pull on your skeleton, which forces your bones and muscles to work harder, stimulating bone density and increasing overall calorie burn.” Hmm … that sounds good, so I guess I can count standing at the sink as exercise IF I’m wearing the vest.

The vest arrived nicely boxed with a lavender sachet and a thank-you card that informed me it was designed for women by a woman-owned company. That made me feel good … it’s a nice extra touch. The vest made an “X” across my chest when I put it on. For obvious reasons, that is a good design.

The first time I wore the vest, I lasted about 30 minutes, partly because I had to go to work, and partly because my shoulder was a little sore. The next time, I put on the vest when I got home after work, which allowed me more time for my experiment. I found an old shoulder pad and stuck it under the strap on my “bad shoulder” side. That seemed to help a little. I also tightened the straps around my waist, which helped distribute the weight down a bit.

By the third time, I was used to the weight and feeling motivated to do something more vigorous, so I vacuumed and mopped the floors! That took over an hour, and I did feel like I had gotten a workout! With all the bending and reaching, my core muscles especially got a workout.

The way I did it. For the love of bones.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

Read more

“Go to the gym and lift weights!” That’s the advice from every podcast and all the wellness articles I’ve been reading lately. Apparently, everyone agrees that lifting weights is especially important for women over fifty. I’d been circling around the idea and coming up with ways to avoid it. I could use hand weights and stretch bands at home. Better yet, I could unbury my husband’s Olympic weight bench, which has been covered with boxes and clothes for months—not to mention, I have a drawer full of workout videos!

But I didn’t do any of that.

In the spirit of my Expeditionvision—I forced myself to go to the gym. And I hated it.

My foray back to the gym included an RFID bracelet, as well keeping well clear of a skinny old dude with long hair. He too must have heard the urgent call to “lift weights.” He wears a perpetually lost expression on his face that suggests he’s new to this. There’s also a lady who doesn’t understand the concept of moving in a clockwise direction through the machines when circuit training.

This comedy is set to a soundtrack that must be the whim of a staff of rotating burnouts and teenagers—whoever is on duty at the time. I can just see them laughing behind the curtain at all the old people moving like robots from the leg press to the lat pulldown to the tune of Highway to Hell by AC/DC, alternating with Don’t Waste My Time by Zilo.

You feel me?

And there’s also this weird idea that every person has to use a dripping wet sanitizing wipe to soak each machine when they’re done. By the third machine, my butt and back are wet, and not because I’m sweating! Does that sound like anything anyone would want to do? Not to me, it doesn’t.

I used to love going to the gym. I taught step aerobics in the ‘90s, for heaven’s sake! Remember wearing leotards with tights and leg warmers? Every outfit was finished off with a matching headband and white high-top sneakers. That outfit was my jam. And I looked good. I had a big yellow Jambox with a shoulder strap that I carried into class. It had two tape decks. One for the warm-up and cool-down, and one with pop music for the dancercise part of the class. That was when going to the gym was fun!

Not like my current gym experience. But I have to admit that after six weeks of forcing myself through those doors … and equating the experience with being a prisoner on a chain gang … I’ve noticed that I am feeling a little stronger, and the computerized strength test has me upping the weight. Well, that’s just enough to keep me going … most days. On the other days, especially if my workout partner flakes out, it’s easy not to go, and not going isn’t like me. I’m usually pretty good at doing things just because I know they are good for me.

Then came the epiphany.

I was struggling to find time to read my book club’s book of the month, so I downloaded the audio version and was enjoying listening to it. Rather than putting on my gym ID bracelet as if it were a handcuff, I slapped on my headphones and grabbed a thick terry towel. Today, I was excited … even eager … to get to the gym and find out “who done it.”

The way I did it. Something to look forward to.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

Read more

As you know, trying new things is a big part of my Expedition vision … and we’re already halfway through the year with the week of July 10^th.

Wow!

I thought it would be fun to give a little update on twenty-six of my discoveries for this twenty-sixth week of the twenty-sixth year. Some I found through experiments, some were suggested by friends, and some I pulled out of the closet!

Here’s what I’m listening to:

· The Mel Robbins podcast

· The unPAUSED podcast with Dr. Mary Claire Haver

· The Laugh Lines podcast with Kim and Penn Holderness

· The Meghan Trainor station on Pandora

· The Cole Porter station on Pandora

My friend Tara first introduced me to Mel Robbins and then to Dr. Mary Claire Haver. I wasn’t really a podcast person, but now I can’t imagine cooking dinner or folding laundry without a podcast playing in the background. Mel and Dr. Mary are two amazing women. And they are both helping me feel a little less nuts. Kim and Penn Holderness add a bit of comic relief to the mix. Their relationship reminds me of my husband and I. My sister has said a thousand times that Bill and I should do a podcast … well, maybe. My Pandora stations look a little funny, even to me … I love Cole Porter when I’m writing and Meghan Trainor when I’m working in the yard or exercising.

What I’m watching and following:

· The limited TV series I Will Find You, starring Sam Worthington on Netflix

· The limited TV series The Perfect Couple, starring Nicole Kidman and Liev Schreiber on Netflix

· Shield of Life, with Dr. Andria Klioze on YouTube and Drandriaklioze on Instagram

· The Boss Lady, with Teresa Rand and Jennifer Roberts on Facebook

· Darma.LTD, Derek Mason on Instagram, and DARMA MENS LTD on Facebook

Watching a limited series reminds me of what TV used to be—good storytelling, good acting, and something to look forward to. My friend, Dr. Andria, is perhaps the most brilliant woman I know. Her advice on healthy eating and spiritual living is something everyone should hear. I feel the same way about my friends Teresa and Jennifer. They have encouraged me and hundreds of other professional women to take charge of their careers and lives. Darma.LTD is my son’s new company. He has created a line of men’s jewelry, hats, belts, and wallets. His company has a great message too. It’s been fun to feel connected to his new endeavor through social media.

What I’m reading:

· Mona’s Eyes, a novel by Thomas Schlesser

· The Calamity Club, a novel by Kathryn Stockett

· An Inside Job, a novel by Daniel Silva

· The Ormond Beach Observer, a local newspaper published by Brian McMillan

· Florida Trend, a magazine published by David G. Denor

I’ve always loved to read, which my mom led by example. These days, she can read a novel in a day! I don’t think I’ll ever reach that speed. In fact, I have to admit that I’m listening to The Calamity Club. When I discovered it was 700 pages long, I knew I would never get through it in time for book club if I read it page by page. Mona’s Eyes and An Inside Job are also book club reads. Somehow, I’ve joined three book clubs!

The Ormond Beach Observer is a weekly paper. I look forward to reading about my neighbors and what’s happening in the community when it arrives every Thursday. Florida Trend magazine covers the same thing for the state of Florida. I like to follow what’s happening in business throughout our state. The most recent edition featured exciting opportunities in aerospace, medicine, and higher education.

What I’m eating:

· Hard-boiled eggs

· Grilled steak

· Grilled salmon

· Tofu tacos

· Chicken piccata

· Homemade salad dressing

This year has been my year for protein! I used to have a protein shake for breakfast, but lately, it’s been eggs, eggs, eggs! Cooking on the grill is a fun way to get protein, too, and one that doesn’t stink up or heat up the house. Tofu tacos have become a go-to favorite on nights that I don’t feel like cooking. I always keep a can of black beans and a can of tomatoes in the pantry. Brown the crumbled tofu in olive oil, add a packet of taco seasoning, the cans of beans and tomatoes … and voilà … dinner is done. Chicken piccata is an old favorite I made for a dinner party. It’s perfect for a party because you can make it ahead and keep it warm until you’re ready to sit down at the table. Making my own salad dressing is a new one. Apparently, we are supposed to avoid seed oil, and most commercial dressings are full of them.

What I’m doing for my skin and bones:

· Taking a FAR infrared + NEAR red light sauna

· Challenging myself to hang from a bar

· Wearing a weighted vest

· Treating my hair and scalp with BosleyMD hair products

A friend asked me recently, “Why do you have a sauna in Florida? Just go outside!”

She may be right, but I do love my sauna. When our house was damaged by flooding, I was most concerned about my little outhouse of a sauna! Thankfully, it still works. It turns out that hanging from a pull-up bar is more about grip strength than I thought. My hands used to be so strong when I was upholstering furniture. Not so much anymore; I guess it’s a good challenge—hang for one minute without touching the floor. I can’t do it yet. When I ordered the weighted vest, I thought eight pounds would be too light, but the weight really added intensity to my stair climbing. The Bosley shampoo, conditioning, and scalp treatment are the newest additions to my routine. My scalp tingles, so it feels like it’s doing something. I’ve been so stressed about my hair falling out that the stress is probably making my hair fall out! I’ll keep you posted.

The way I did it. 26 for 26.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Just for fun … and to see if I could do it.

I set this challenge for myself when I discovered that we had been trimming our trees all wrong. I found this out when the city’s arborist spoke at a commission meeting I was attending for work. I wasn’t paying full attention . . . after all, we weren’t actually trimming our trees ourselves. We hire tree guys to come and do the work, and I figured they knew what they were doing. But my interest perked up when the arborist announced that homeowners and tree companies could be fined for over-trimming. I didn’t know that was a thing.

Florida’s official state tree is the sabal palm, and, as such, it is closely monitored and protected. We have 21 of them on our 100’ x 100’ residential lot. I know—that’s a lot of trees! I counted twice. I also now know that our tree guys had been trimming them wrong. They typically left only a few fronds sticking straight out of the top of each tree. As a result, the poor things looked more like giant paintbrushes than palm trees.

If we continued to trim them incorrectly, we could potentially be fined thousands of dollars. After a little research, it didn’t take long for lots of answers to pop up. Once you type in a question, AI sends more information than anyone could possibly need. I discovered that only the dead fronds should be removed in a 9 o’clock—3 o’clock pattern and thought, “That won’t be so hard.”

So, on Sunday morning … I selected Sunday because my husband would be home to witness my experiment and would call the ambulance if I fell off the ladder. He golfs on Saturdays. Before the sun got too hot, I extended the ladder to its full height, propped it against one of the shorter trees surrounding the pool, and climbed up, clutching a borrowed long pole saw. I wasn’t sure if I would ever use the saw again after this experiment, so I didn’t want to invest the money to buy one of my own. Not yet, anyway.

The angle was a little tricky, and the weight of the fully extended pole saw felt heavier at the top of the ladder than it did on the ground. However, as soon as the first dead palm frond fell to the ground, I was hooked.

It was fun!

It was exhilarating!

It took about thirty minutes to remove the dead fronds. I had to reposition the ladder twice. I also removed the branch containing flowering seed pods and felt lucky that the bees I saw the week before buzzing around the tree’s flowers had moved on.

The tree looked fresh but not overdone … like a perfect haircut. It felt good knowing that I had done it. And a trip to the hospital wasn’t necessary.

The way I did it. Tree woman.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

Read more

A Big Fat Greek Cooking Class, to be precise. For months, I had been driving by the advertisement sign posted on the fence at the Casements, the historic winter home of John D. Rockefeller that is now a community museum and venue. This week, without overthinking it, I signed up.

The website said we would make Moussaka, Rice Pilaf, Greek Salad, Stuffed Grape Leaves, Spanakopita, and Baklava. And we did! I felt confident going into class. I had made all the dishes, except the grape leaves, before. I was looking forward to learning from a real chef. And Chef Elaine did not disappoint. She had many tips and tricks and engaging personal stories that made the 3-½ hour class fly by.

This wasn’t my first cooking class. One of my most memorable cooking experiences was the class at La Cucina al Focolare in Italy with a group of friends. We call ourselves the Belle Sorelle, which means beautiful sisters in Italian. Taking an authentic Italian cooking class in the gorgeous countryside of Tuscany is also one of the all-time favorite things I’ve ever done.

First, we made Crostini di Fegatini—chicken liver toasts that we enjoyed immediately with a slice of crusty bread and a glass of Chianti. Then La Pasta per la Pizza—pizza crust topped with an amazing tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella cheese. For the main course, it was Fettuccine con Salsa di Pomodoro e Basilico—fettuccine with tomato and basil sauce, and for dessert Biscotti di Prato—almond biscuits. We cooked in a wood-fired oven and hand rolled the fettucine. I can’t remember whether Italian music was playing in the kitchen or if it was just playing in my head.

The class was amazing … the food was delicious, and it remains one of my fondest memories of our Italian adventure. I also remember that I jumped in to translate, which is a funny way to explain it because I don’t speak much Italian—but our cooking instructors spoke even less English. When I saw my friends’ confused looks, I began to narrate what I was doing. It seemed to help. We then had another glass of wine and enjoyed dinner together, seated on heavy wooden stools around the rustic kitchen table.

I’m telling you that last bit, the bit about taking on the role of instructor, because in my Greek cooking class I had to sit on my hands to keep myself from jumping up to assist. There were over 20 of us in the class. Chef Elaine was in the middle, demonstrating for much of the time. I just knew if I got up there and helped, I could re-engage the students whose attention was drifting … we all had to strain a little bit to see.

Spoiler: I didn’t make it through the whole class without helping. By the time we got to the Greek Salad, the last item on our menu, I got up and chopped the tomatoes. Can I use the excuse that I was starving? I was. I had come to class straight from work. But the truth is, I just couldn’t fight my urge to help any longer.

I think about food a lot. I love to imagine the dinners I will make, the parties I will host, and all the wonderful food I will serve. Taking the Greek cooking class reignited that passion.

The way I did it. Greek for a day.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.

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For one week, rather than thinking about what I was grateful for, I said it out loud. Every morning, before leaving the house for work, going to meetings, or running errands, I stopped and said my thoughts out loud. This experiment was to put to the test my belief, and constant advice to others, in the power of positive affirmation. Would starting each day in this way change how I was feeling? I was going to find out.

Recently, my days have felt like a constant climb to nowhere. An endless series of emails, meetings, phone calls, and putting out small fires … set that on repeat. Nothing much different was happening. I think I was just feeling bored or tired, and I started to notice that my thoughts kept drifting to the worst possible scenarios.

When my kids didn’t answer my calls and texts, my mind immediately went to … car crash! Were they not calling back because they were in a horrible accident?

When I had nothing on my social calendar, I thought, “My friends must be mad at me. What did I do?”

When the washing machine made a funny noise, I announced to my husband, “We better not go out to dinner. We’re sure to need the money to buy a new washing machine.”

My rational mind knew that none of that was true, and yet I couldn’t seem to help myself.

The first morning, I felt a little silly. Remember that skit on Saturday Night Live when Al Franken created the character Stuart Smalley? Stuart would stand in front of the mirror and recite, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.” Was I being a pathetic Stuart Smalley?

On the second day, I posted pictures of some of my favorite things on my bathroom mirror to prompt the affirmations. Florida songbirds … I’m enamored by them! A photo of my recent bike ride along the ocean. I’m so happy to be back on my bike again. My view of the garden waterfall from my office window. I have a beautiful place to work.

On the third day, I added notes and pictures of things I am looking forward to this week, this month, and this year. This week, I was having lunch with a friend who had just returned from a month-long trip to Europe. I couldn’t wait to hear about it. A month … wow! Although I won’t be spending a month in Europe, this month I am going to take my first professional golf lesson. I’m not sure if I hope I’m good at it or terrible at it. We’ll see. This year, our daughter and son-in-law will celebrate their first wedding anniversary, and our granddaughter will turn one year old. We have a trip to California planned to celebrate her birthday, and I’m researching fun anniversary gifts to send to Pennsylvania.

However, it wasn’t a perfect week. I snapped at my husband a time or two. He calls those moments my passive aggressiveness. If our teenagers responded the way I did, we would have called them smart asses.

But when I took an honest look back, I did feel a little lighter throughout the week. I didn’t scroll my Facebook friends to see what they were doing without me. I didn’t check my phone all day long to see if there were replies to my texts. Reminding myself—out loud—about good things kept my irrational thoughts from creeping in.

The way I did it. Daily gratitude.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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This experiment started with the best of intentions. After the church service last week, I stopped at the church café for a cup of coffee and noticed a sign on the counter asking for volunteer kitchen cooks.

“That’s an easy one,” I thought.

As soon as I got home, I signed up to join the kitchen committee. Just as I hit submit, I felt a pain in my stomach. What was I thinking? I don’t have time to be in charge of anything more right now. Ugh, did I make a mistake? I’ve always found it difficult to be part of a committee without taking charge.

My husband would say I’m a control freak. I don’t think I am, but it drives me crazy when “nobody” is in charge. I know this about myself. I can stomach about six minutes … MAX... of standing around waiting for someone to “start” a project before I have to interject. And everyone knows the one who starts the project is the one who’s in charge. Voilà … I put myself in charge.

The thing is, I’ve spent so much of my life as the person who notices what needs to be done, and then making sure it happens. It seems natural to me. Some might say that’s a gift, but every gift has a shadow side.

Shadow side #1: Not listening. I’ve been working on this dark truth for years. When someone tells me their troubles, or asks for help, I find it very hard not to go into fix-it mode. I’m getting better, I used to interrupt with attitude and let them know that, obviously, here’s your solution. These days, I might think of the solution—after all, old habits are hard to break—but not say anything. I must admit that staying silent may seem like I’m not adding value. Even so, I’ve learned that NOT sharing is sometimes the better choice. I want to be the person who asks, “Do you want me to listen, or help problem solve?”

Shadow side #2: Jumping in with both feet. The dark truth of being the first to act is often you find you’re the only one left in the room. People are generally all too happy to let you do it – whatever “it” may be. I’m thinking that I need to start a new ministry … a ministry of keeping my mouth shut!

So far, this experiment has been a mental exercise since I haven’t been called or scheduled for a kitchen shift yet. It’s now been a week, which seems longer than I would have expected. Then again, I remember the last time I volunteered in the kitchen … and I wonder if I might be on the “Do Not Call” list. The last time I volunteered, I signed up without knowing what the job duties were. When I arrived, I found out that I didn’t really have a job to do. So I took it upon myself to be helpful and found there were moldy cucumbers on the tossed salads. And I noticed several bags of mini potato chips had expired after sorting the bags in order of expiration. I later discovered that the kitchen manager was not at all impressed.

I’m not sure if I was intentionally not called to volunteer. However, experience has shown me that sometimes I need to help less. The adage “See something, say something” does not always apply.

The way I did it. Being helpful without being in charge.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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I’ve started my day with a cup of coffee for as long as I can remember, and the delicious varieties of flavored creamers are some of my favorite things about that morning cup of joe. My current favorite is Italian Sweet Cream. I bought one of those small frothers to whip the cream before adding the hot coffee. It’s heavenly delicious. In the fall, I look forward to the seasonal Pumpkin Spice and Cinnamon Dolce flavors, and then for the holidays, it’s Peppermint Stick and White Chocolate Raspberry.

This experiment was difficult for me, and it’s one that I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Apparently, beverages high in sugar are worse for you than cakes and pies. It’s something about how quickly sugar enters your system without any solids to slow it down. You may have heard about the lawsuits against Starbucks, that mighty coffee giant.

The thing is, I wasn’t drinking a venti coffee macchiato with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle every morning. I was making my coffee at home and often measured the creamer to get the precise allotted serving size of two tablespoons per cup.

But even so, I had a feeling I could do better.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent the weekend with friends in a beautiful mountain house in North Carolina. The first morning, I woke up early, so I started the coffee. I set out the coffee cups and teaspoons, opened the fridge, and found plain half-and-half. No problem, I thought, and began to search the cabinets for sugar. I hunted high and low, using a stool to check the small cabinet above the microwave. Then I got down on my knees to check the very bottom drawers. Nothing there … there was no sugar in the house. The best that I could come up with was a small pot of honey.

So I had a problem. First, I really don’t like black coffee, and second, none of my friends seemed to be concerned about it. Since I didn’t want to be a complainer, I suffered through honey coffee the first morning and continued to suffer the second morning. By the third morning, I couldn’t take it and blurted out, “Does anyone else miss having sugar in their coffee?” The answer was crickets. And I know why.

One of our friends is a brilliant doctor. She knows everything about nutrition … and not just the whole foods plan that everyone is touting these days. She knows how foods affect your body at the molecular level. She can tell you exactly how the things you put in your mouth have an effect on your body. And the long and the short of it is—sugar is not good. Needless to say, none of us want her to catch us eating the wrong things!

So that was two weeks ago. I didn’t enjoy my coffee during that vacation, and when I got home I went back to my old habit—whipping the Italian Sweet Cream and adding the hot coffee. However, I was feeling guilty, so I planned this experiment.

Generally, I’m pretty good about doing things that I know are good for me—getting enough sleep, exercising, and not drinking too much. I’ve added lifting weights … blah blah blah. And there it is. I struggled with this week’s experiment because I have a bad attitude.

The way I did it. A little less sweet.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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This experiment isn’t as crazy as it sounds. Although I’ve heard of women shaving their faces as some sort of super exfoliant, I didn’t shave with my husband’s razor, but he did call it shaving when I used the handheld red light + electrical muscle stimulation (EMS) tool that I purchased with the hope of reducing the unattractive appearance of my turkey neck. The edge of the contraption did resemble the shape of a traditional razor, and when I touched it to my neck, it made a humming sound … so the name did suit the action.

Every night for fourteen weeks—in reality, probably more like 95 nights since I missed a night here and there—I plopped on the edge of the sofa and “shaved” my wrinkled neck and what can only be called the beginnings of jowls where my checks should be.

I was going to say this experiment was a reader challenge. I’ve been calling for readers to submit their experiments, but that would be a lie. This experiment is founded in good ole-fashioned vanity. I’ve written about my décolleté resembling a peach pit, which is quite disturbing, but one day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the face looking back at me as my own. I truly thought an old lady was staring at me in horror. Who was that woman with the wrinkled, sagging skin? My outward appearance didn’t match the way I felt. When did that happen?! I was now more than motivated to do something about it.

The first thing I did was research surgical face lifts … and quickly ruled that out after looking at a few of the “after” photos. I found lots of anti-aging recommendations, such as exercising your face to reduce sagging skin, which makes sense. I go to the gym to lift weights, but contorting and scrunching up my face actually was making my wrinkles look worse. And that reminded me of an article I once read about Asian women who are famous for not having expression lines because they have trained themselves NOT to move their faces. Everyone else uses Botox to freeze their muscles, but I decided not to inject myself with poison.

There was a plethora of information about topical lotions and creams that promised to “feed” my skin. I’ve done a lot of research in that lane—my Shine cream oil is chock-full of antioxidants, humectants, and vitamins. I then set a timer to give myself an allotted research time. I’ve found that if I don’t, I can sit at my computer screen for hours and hours and emerge feeling quite awful. When the buzzer sounded, I decided to purchase a tool to use in conjunction with my Shine formula.

After three weeks, I thought I could see a little difference. After six weeks, my neck felt tighter, which was enough encouragement to keep at it. At this point, my skin feels more like the way I remember it … and at certain angles it appears as though my jowl buds and wrinkles are smoothing out.

Another thing I found while researching was a long list of famous women over fifty who have pledged to age naturally—Lauren Hutton, Meryl Streep, and Julia Roberts have all spoken out against plastic surgery. I especially liked this quote from Julia: “Your face tells a story ... and it shouldn’t be a story about your drive to the doctor’s office.”

Perhaps the most encouraging point in my experiment was when an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while said, “You look so young.” Release the confetti! Do a little dance! That compliment alone was enough encouragement to keep me going for another fourteen weeks.

The way I did it. Aging naturally.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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This experiment wasn’t the one I planned. I had been saving money for weeks before I set out on my girl’s weekend. I had a budget and was excited and ready to shop! I hadn’t been shopping anywhere but at discount department stores in ages. Shopping used to be a pastime … a hobby … something to do on a rainy day. For me, going shopping is an action verb. It’s kind of like eating a piece of chocolate cake. Shopping is dopamine. I don’t remember ever coming home empty-handed. I always found something to buy.

As I squeezed the final T-shirt into my one personal item—the amazingly small bag I was going to carry onto the airplane to avoid paying the outrageous baggage fees—I remembered that the town of Highlands, North Carolina was sure to be on our itinerary. Highlands may be one of the best shopping spots ever for a girl’s weekend. The main drag is lined with stores filled with unimagined treasures. Beautiful clothes and one-of-a-kind decorations and art pieces. With this bag, there would be no way I could bring anything back home with me. No worries, I would just ship my treasures home! Then another thought entered my mind as I forced the zipper closed. I didn’t really NEED anything.

Is that a sign of maturity or of giving up? The idea is that if you don’t need anything, then you don’t go shopping. A couple of years ago, our group of eight toyed with the idea that we should stop exchanging gifts because none of us needed anything. I never liked the idea. Can you even imagine? It’s not like we were giving each other vacuum cleaners! I have to tell you … secretly I wondered if it was my gift that pushed that notion forward. One year, I gave vintage gifts. I found a great resale shop and bought gifts for everyone. Later, I discovered that some people hate vintage. I guess you either love it or hate it! I hope my poor gift giving wasn’t the reason. Gifts from my girlfriends are some of my favorite things! It’s true we all say we don’t need anything … but I enjoy giving gifts and receiving them.

Shopping together was one of the highlights of the weekend. We had fun re-enacting a rom-com movie dressing room scene. Flinging open the dressing room door and striking a pose to reveal a new outfit, each more colorful and more accessorized than the one before. One of the jewelry shop owners encouraged my friend Jules to try on a $360,000 ring! She didn’t buy it.

But a funny thing happened as we entered the third or fourth shop along Main Street, all of them filled with a different version of Lilly Pulitzer cotton and linen outfits. I realized that not only did I not need an embroidered cotton maxi dress, but I would also likely wear it only once because I gave up ironing years ago!

We had great conversations as we sat on the steps and enjoyed street musicians and treats from the chocolate shop. It wasn’t the $300 dresses or the $360,000 rings that brought us together. It was our joy of spending time together … and that is priceless.

The way I did it. The best things in life are free.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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This weekend, I didn’t climb onto my bicycle for my usual Saturday morning training ride. And I didn’t log on for the afternoon Zoom workshop that I signed up for and paid for weeks ago. And I didn’t drag out my shopping lists or pore over the endless spreadsheets of home improvement projects.

I didn’t do them because I was determined to succeed with my experiment. The plan was to simply “be” … to relax and let my mind and body take a much needed rest. I put down the remote and silenced my cell phone. The house was quiet, I had nowhere to be, and the setting was perfect for success.

And yet, even before the footrest had fully extended on my side of the motion sofa, I had three things in mind that needed to be done … and I just couldn’t keep myself still! My plan of relaxing was interrupted before it even started.

Self-Sabotage reared its ugly head and struck again. I’d say my addiction to doing has been a lifelong obsession. I am a Human Doing.

The first major flare up was when the kids started school. After five years of focusing on their care and feeding, the days seemed impossibly long without them underfoot, so I went back to work.

A more accurate description would be that I became obsessed with work. Having been out of the “professional” workforce for several years, I thought I needed to make up for lost time. For the next fifteen years I opened and grew companies, spearheaded initiatives, and dragged my kids right alongside me. There was rarely a moment when we weren’t doing something. I told myself I was teaching by example … showing the benefits of a strong work ethic … demonstrating how motivating it was to set and achieve goals. We probably all need therapy because of it.

This second major flare up, my empty nest period, has exhibited many of the same qualities. Taking on too much, never saying NO, and relishing the high of reaching the goals I set. Truth be told, I do like some of those qualities. And yet, it’s a little different this time.

For one thing, I’m noticing my tendency to overdo. I didn’t realize it the first time around. It just seemed normal. Everyone I knew was doing the same thing … racing from here to there and back again … day after day. Now when someone asks, “How are you doing?”, my reply is, “I’m having trouble keeping up with my choices.”

I look longingly at the social posts of my friends enjoying a beach sunrise, or the photos they are sharing from their European travels.

And speaking of Europe … maybe the Italians are on to something. I was listening to a podcast recently about the benefits of the Mediterranean diet—a way of eating that I’ve embraced for years. Although the lecture was about incorporating more omega-3 fatty acids and cruciferous vegetables into your diet, it was the part when they talked about eating, not cooking, that caught my attention. The advice was that good-quality ingredients are only half of the story. To get the full benefit of the Mediterranean diet, food must be savored and enjoyed, preferably seated at a table with others.

Without even realizing it, I was doing what the Italians do! Two of my recent experiments put the theory to the test. I hosted a dinner party without impressing, and my husband and I did nothing together on a Friday date night. And both experiments are on the success side of my Expeditionvision chart.

Maybe I have finally discovered the secret sauce. Doing more and more is not the answer… life must be savored and enjoyed together.

The way I did it. Human Being.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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On Sunday night, I was crouched on the floor, nail gun in hand, and installing wood baseboards in my family room. Mind you, this is an item that has been on my “to do” list for no less than 10 years … one of those projects that has been out of sight and out of mind.

But I had my tools out fixing some other things, and my practical self took over, saying it would take more time to get the tools out again than to install the boards … besides, my mom and brother were arriving on Monday and I wanted the house to look nice, which meant that there I was, on the floor, at nine o’clock at night.

The view from down there, surrounded by dust bunnies and dog fur, wasn’t so great. I could easily find other things in need of my attention. I was tired. I knew I had a busy work week, and then a lightbulb went off. The only way anyone would see the newly installed baseboards was if they were lying on the floor—and why would anyone be lying on the floor? Truthfully, I hope nobody does this.

I was preparing my house as if for a performance—a Pinterest debut. And who was I trying to impress? In case you are wondering, not one of my expected guests was a writer for Better Homes & Gardens.

At the start of the week, I set out to do a complete spring cleaning. By Sunday, I had managed to dust one room and wash one set of curtains out of six. I sprayed the guest room sheets with lavender water rather than ironing them with it. And when my company arrived on Monday, I was still mopping the floors. I looked up from the mop bucket to greet them and announced that two rooms in the house were closed to visitors. My cleaning bucket hadn’t made it to the office or the master bedroom.

When the entire family gathered for dinner, the party clumped and congregated in the kitchen, as parties always do. Then something happened. I stopped serving and started participating. My aunts offered to help, and I let them! When I left the kitchen, so did everyone else. We sat outside under the rusted and slightly leaning pergola, surrounded by half-green palm trees that were still recovering from the recent freeze and laughed about it! None of that mattered. We shared stories about growing up and growing old and anecdotes about life’s curve balls for hours. My uncles are so much more interesting than I ever knew! Precocious teenagers, talented musicians, and seasoned world travelers—by motorcycle no less!

I’ve written about using the good stuff. We have good stuff. Not perfect stuff but good stuff. The next day, I could have felt ruffled because the dishwasher was loaded wrong or because the leftovers were put into containers that didn’t match and were piled haphazardly in the refrigerator. But I wasn’t.

This experiment was not about lowering standards as much as it was about lowering the pressure to be perfect. I’d still like the house to be clean and the food to be ready on time, but serving as hostess is not as important as participating in the party.

The way I did it. Hosting without impressing.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week, possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers - Thank you for supporting my work!

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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I wasn’t sure that this experiment would work. For years, I’ve tried to get my husband to see what needs to be done and do it without my prodding and pleading. It’s time for me to admit that the schedule of what I think needs to be done and what he thinks needs to be done are never going to be the same. It’s been wishful thinking on my part - for thirty years.

So, this time, I would NOT sit down for our Friday date-night dinner with a list in my hand and ten bullet points to check off. I would do my best to quiet my inner “to-do” list, enjoy dinner together, and see where the conversation went.

Because anything would be better than what we’ve been doing.

We’d been having “half conversations” for months. A quick jab at the kitchen sink about the state of our roof. A right hook with a reminder that company was arriving at the end of the month. An uppercut with a comment about the credit card bill.

To get the knockout I was looking for, I would have to do some fancy bobbing and weaving. Following my own advice, I needed to try to approach things a little differently. Like no distractions … which meant no phone for me, and no TV for him. We would NOT talk about finances, preventative maintenance, insurance, or our social calendar.

I wasn’t sure I could do it. The list running around in my head was loud, and insistent. The sprinkler pump was on its last leg. The grass was dead. The pool chlorinator stopped working months ago, which meant weekly trips for jugs of chlorine. The fence was halfway falling down in the backyard. And that was just outside the house! HOW COULD HE NOT NOTICE?! That didn’t include the egghead side of my brain. What should we do about the flood insurance? Why is the water bill so high? Do we really NEED 500 TV stations?

It wasn’t a long dinner, and not a particularly romantic one either, but it was nice. By the end, there hadn’t been a single jab about the roof, not one uppercut involving the water bill, and absolutely no surprise swings from the sprinkler pump. No problems were solved. No plans were made. No lists consulted. Just dinner. Somewhere between the front nine and the back nine of his golf story, I realized I had lowered my guard—and apparently so had he.

It turns out that the knockout I was aiming for wasn’t getting everything handled. The combination I needed was to get us back in the same corner again.

The way I did it. Date night with a plan.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week, possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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Twelve weeks ago, I launched my quest—Expeditionvision.

It was my year of trying things with the plan of discovering what a meaningful life looked like after the kids left the nest, and my sense of purpose was fleeting. I thought I was starting a project.

Try something. Observe something. Report back.

In practice, I began to show up differently in my own life. I started a habit of noticing and found that a lot of the time I was my own worst enemy! I was letting my concerns about what other people might think, and the negative stories that I tell myself do the steering.

That was the first surprise … how much I was looking for permission or approval. Not literal printed instructions, but a voice that whispers, someone else should come with you, or this isn’t important enough, or maybe later, had been my constant companion for years.

Going to the theater by myself turned out not to be about independence. It was about realizing how much weight I gave to what I thought other people would think.

Baking a pie for no reason wasn’t about dessert. It was about not needing an excuse to do something just because it made me happy.

And the goodbye kiss I intended to turn into a romantic gesture quietly became something else entirely—a marker at the doorway between the life inside the house and the life waiting outside.

Somewhere around week five, I began to notice a pattern.

I had been saving things.

Not just the good boots and the Kate Spade bag. I’d been saving invitations by waiting for my house to be perfect before hosting a dinner party. I’d been saving phone calls to my friends until I had something “important” to say. And I’d been saving life’s small pleasures.

My weekly Expeditionvision experiments showed that I had been waiting for a better version of my life before living my life.

Fifteen minutes at a time, I started clearing the drawers, counters, and boxes that had been waiting patiently for months. I set an early alarm and discovered that mornings only improve when there is somewhere to go. I attempted memory tricks and learned that my brain preferred nonsense to discipline. I logged my hours and found that the time I thought was missing had actually been holding my days together.

Several of the harder experiments were disguised as practical problems.

I thought asking for help was admitting defeat. It turned out I wasn’t asking for help because I was embarrassed. It made me uncomfortable to admit that I didn’t have it all together and to let someone else see my mess.

Calling a friend looked like scheduling, and what was missing turned out to be belonging. When the kids were younger, getting together with friends just happened naturally. Without that community and identity, I was asking myself, “Who am I, and does it even matter?”

Practicing social connections looked like structure until I realized how many conversations were already there, waiting for me to count them.

Not one of these weeks was dramatic. No violins played. No red carpets appeared. No one walked up to me to say, “I noticed that you have entered a new chapter of life.”

After twelve weeks, I haven’t transformed my life; something quieter has happened. I started paying attention sooner. I started noticing.

I still wake up in the same house. I still drive the same routes. I still go to the same grocery store and answer the same emails. With each experiment, I stopped waiting for something to happen and started making small turns instead. And when you start turning the steering wheel—even slightly—you begin to notice that you are not traveling in exactly the same direction anymore.

The way I did it. Twelve weeks in.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week, possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and things I’m still working on.

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Fresh herbs make any recipe taste better. I believe it! And this week, I added fresh dill to my cucumber and bean salad, and fresh oregano and parsley to my tortellini pasta.

How I got to this point is a bit of a roundabout adventure.

For years, I’ve wanted a fresh herb garden of my own. In my imagination, I have matching gardening gloves, sun hat, and apron. I happily snip herbs and place them gently into a rustic wicker basket to the tune of “That’s Amore.” Let’s just call it my interpretation of that wonderful film, Under the Tuscan Sun.

The real-life version is more of a tale of insanity.

My first plan was to build aboveground planter boxes for my backyard. I diagrammed the boxes—size, shape, and height—and then made a list of the lumber and the other materials I would need. The idea was to build them the next weekend. The next weekend never came.

I hatched my next plan at the garden center, where I found a huge round blue terracotta pot and snagged it for an incredibly low price. With the help of the garden center staff, I wrestled it into the back of my truck, and my husband helped unload it when I got home. I placed it on a stand and filled it with starter plants … basil, oregano, and mint. Two weeks later, the plants were dead.

Not to be discouraged, I rotated the pot slightly, and once again filled it with my favorite herbs of basil, oregano, and mint. And they died again. And again. And yet again. No amount of pot rotation, watering schedules, or adjusting for the sun changed their fate.

Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing and expecting different results?

Then there’s one of my mantras … To do something right, you must do it from scratch. I may be paraphrasing a bit, but the idea of making things from scratch has always been important to me. Unfortunately, in this case, it means that I don’t have any fresh herbs!

Until now.

Last week, a friend gave me a dish garden filled with beautiful fresh herbs. The dill, oregano, and parsley were beautiful shades of deep leafy green and ready to harvest. I didn’t have to re-pot them. I didn’t have to wait for them to grow. And, most importantly, I didn’t have to start from scratch. I didn’t have to do anything but clip, wash, and chop to finally have fresh herbs in my recipes.

The dish garden was the perfect size for my kitchen counter, which may have also contributed to my success. Rather than a pot in the backyard—which was out of sight and out of mind—the container was within easy reach. It felt like it was calling to me!

For years, I’ve been trying to become someone who grows herbs. It turns out that I just needed to become someone who uses them.

The way I did it. Trying differently.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week, possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and the things I’m still working on.

Read more

After the success of last week’s experiment—calling a friend and going to a wine bar together—I was energized to “quantify” practicing my relationships.

I knew I couldn’t leave it up to chance or merely hope for success. My problem was where to begin. Many references to the importance of social engagement have vague advice, but few offer a daily structure. Last week, I mentioned the Harvard Study of Adult Development, which is a great study and the one that’s cited most often. There are also recommendations from the Blue Zone plan, the “Concentric Circles” model created by clinical psychologists, and the Surgeon General, who encourages doctors to prescribe “social” recommendations along with drug therapies, diet, and exercise. Even the World Health Organization suggests that socialization is as important as diet and exercise for health and longevity.

Honestly, I found all this research a little overwhelming … and even debilitating. But rather than becoming a victim of paralysis by analysis, which has left me frozen so many times before, I came up with this: 1, 5+, 1.

Every day, I will engage in one hour of meaningful conversation.

Every week, I will interact with five different people plus attend one group gathering.

Every month, I will share one meal or tradition.

What it looked like.

The daily conversations had to include people other than employees, which would have been too easy. To meet my goal of one hour a day of meaningful conversation, I extended it to in-person conversations, phone calls, and text messages. I had to leave my desk to talk with museum visitors … so that counted … and that was a nice break in my day. I have the bad habit of sitting so long that my legs go numb! I also had to change my policy of ignoring the group text “pings” on my phone. I think I’ve told you about the anxiety that group texts give me. What I needed was a shift in my attitude when I see my friends communicating! I then used my lunch break to call my husband and to check in with my kids, rather than waiting until 5pm when I’m too tired. I didn’t have an hour’s conversation with one person. Instead, it was a combination of shorter, yet still meaningful, connections throughout the day.

Interacting with five different people turned out to be easier than I thought it might be. I had coffee with a colleague, gave a tour of our museum galleries, planned an Artimis II space launch watch party with a friend, met another friend, Hillary, to lift weights at the Y, and sat with a friend at church. The group activity I “counted” this week was attending the Arts VoCo fundraising event.

I was able to complete the final “1” of my plan—sharing a meal or tradition once a month—this week because Easter fell on Sunday. It was very different from the traditional Easter of years past. It was just the two of us. We didn’t dye Easter eggs, and I didn’t bake a ham or make deviled eggs. I kind of wish I had. I love eggs and ham. However, I did send Easter baskets to the kids through Amazon.

Writing the plan down and then filling in the blanks at the end of the week gave shape to my circle. It turns out that connection doesn’t always arrive as a big event. Sometimes it’s a phone call at lunch, a conversation in a hallway, a seat beside a friend at church. Once I started counting them, I could see that I was already surrounded.

The way I did it. Social Fitness.

This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week, possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.

Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers

Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, and the things I’m still working on.

Read more