The Space Between Then and Now
Condensed milk brownies cooling on my counter and a pang for simpler times
I need to confess something to someone, and you're the lucky winners of my 2 AM thoughts.
I was flipping through old cookbooks looking for that one brownie recipe when I should've been sleeping. You know the feeling when you start something small, just one recipe, and suddenly two hours have disappeared?
The pages were soft at the edges, and the butter stains created a timeline of which recipes mattered most: little archaeological evidence of past family dinners.
And there it was, that sharp, familiar ache. The one that shows up when I'm caught between appreciating what was and figuring out what should be. My mom calls these moments “pangs,” quick jolts of nostalgia that arrive without warning.
I found myself wishing my six-year-old could know: Saturday mornings with Mr. Rogers and his cardigan, homemade donuts cooling on racks, a world where kindness didn't feel like a radical act, and where the gentle tick of a neighborhood bound by something more than proximity still existed.
I've promised myself I'd never become someone who only looks backward. Who talks about “the good old days” as if the future holds nothing worth discovering?
But some nights, sorting through recipe cards while my child sleeps, I wonder if we've lost something essential in our big rush forward.
Then I notice my mom's notes in the margins of her grandmother's recipes, small adjustments, new combinations, and remember that's always been the way. Taking what was beautiful before and bringing it forward, altered but intact.
Maybe that's what all this designing and creating is really about. We are not just creating pretty spaces but holding onto what matters while we move through time.
& now for the song of the week
The Good Stuff
Music, art, and cozy cabin slippers…
☕️ Kyrgies Cabin Slippers
Handmade from wool felt by artisans in Kyrgyzstan using traditional techniques that go back centuries. The leather-soled house shoes are somehow both substantial and cloud-like.
📦 The ‘Outbox’ Shelf
Keep an empty basket near your front door, labeled “Outbox.” Things that need to be returned, donated, mailed, or dropped off go there. It’s like giving your brain a staging area for closure.
💡 The Lighting Detail That Changes Everything
If your lamp cords are ugly, replace them with fabric-covered twisted wire from Snake Head Vintage (yes, that’s the name). It’s cheap, has stunning colors, and makes any lighting piece look bespoke.
Bonus: They sell real bakelite plugs if you’re committing.
🧤The Unexpected Kitchen Textile
Wool pressing cloths. Yep, the kind tailors use. Put one near your oven or under hot dishes instead of a potholder. They’re dense, neutral, and like you live inside a Donna Hay photo shoot. Somehow feels genius and vaguely Nordic.
🪵 The Wood Finish No One’s Using (But Should Be)
Osmo Polyx-Oil. It’s a hardwax oil used in European restoration projects and makes wood look alive, not shiny. If you’ve thrifted a table and it feels chalky or sad, this will make it glow. Warning: addictive once you see the before and after.
Condensed Milk Brownies
for Emotional Emergencies
The condensed milk creates a fudgey texture that feels like emotional support in chocolate form.
Ingredients:
1 stick of butter, melted
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 can sweetened condensed milk (about 7 oz)
1/3 cup chocolate chips
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 325°F. Line an 8x8 pan with parchment.
Whisk the melted butter and sugar until it looks like wet sand.
Add eggs one at a time, then vanilla, whisking between each addition.
In a separate bowl, whisk flour, cocoa powder, and salt.
Fold dry ingredients into wet ingredients until just combined.
Pour half the batter into the prepared pan.
Drizzle condensed milk over the batter (not all the way to the edges).
Pour remaining batter over condensed milk layer.
Sprinkle chocolate chips on top.
Bake 25-30 minutes until center is just set but still soft.
Cool completely before cutting. Store in refrigerator if you prefer a fudge-like texture (which I do).
The secret step: When everything feels terrible, eat them slightly cold, standing at the counter, without telling anyone else they exist.
Meyer Lemon Bush: Unlike flowers that fade, this sunny citrus brings tiny bursts of sunshine year-round. The fragrance alone transforms ordinary mornings into something special.
Mason Pearson Brush: The Rolls-Royce of hairbrushes transforms her nightly routine into a ritual. Hand-finished boar bristles turn detangling into a scalp massage.
UrbanStems Seasonal Subscription: The magic happens with the second delivery, when she remembers you thought beyond the holiday. Designer-quality arrangements arrive like clockwork, curated by actual florists (not algorithms). You order once; she thinks of you every flower-fresh Friday for months.
Wonder Valley Olive Mud Mask: California olive oil meets mineral clay: ten minutes to baby-soft, just-had-a-facial glow. The ceramic jar sits display-worthy on her vanity, not just skincare but permission to pause. Even the name feels like a tiny vacation, which might be what she needs most.
Diamond Locket Necklace (Gold-Fill): A modern heirloom with a tiny diamond detail that elevates it beyond typical last-minute finds.
Alice Waters: Teaches the Art of Home Cooking: For the mom who taught you everything but deserves to be taught something too. Chez Panisse wisdom delivered straight to her inbox.
Design Services That Won't Require a Second Mortgage
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After years of working with clients who had vastly different budgets but the same fundamental need (spaces that feel both beautiful and actually livable), I've created design packages that cut through the overwhelm without cutting through your savings.
Bookings for June are open now, with only four spots remaining.
I started writing this Substack because I couldn't find a place that felt honest. When I started reading other Substacks, I felt my nervous system healing rather than fritzing. However, it took me a lot to start because I've never considered myself remotely good at writing. My sentences run on like my thoughts, and my talking is a jumbled collection of ideas that refuse to be contained by proper punctuation.
But eventually I realized maybe that's exactly the point.
Maybe what's missing isn't more polished content but more honest human voices, complete with grammatical quirks and occasional swear words.
& I have to say, you are my favorite part of the week, this quirky, cozy space we've created together. This exchange of ideas and pangs and small good things in a world that often feels overwhelmingly dark.
It's part design journal, part emotional survival guide, part late-night text thread with the friend who gets it without explanation.
Thank you for being here, for reading these words, for making this tiny corner of the internet feel like a worthwhile place to show up, imperfect sentences and all.
What's waiting on the other side?
🌙 The Late Night Design Hotline: Upgrade and get direct access to the hotline. Send me one design dilemma a month, and I’ll send back a thoughtful, personalized solution (no robots, no fluff, just me, probably in sweatpants, solving it like it’s my own home).
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