Hey friend! How are you??

I’m so glad you’re here.

I will give you two versions to learn more about me: the short one and the long one.

The short version:

I am a stay at home mother of 4. We live in Miami, and I am an artist who loves to read and write. I am also a passionate (self-taught) home cook. Home is Where the Cookies Are is partly art journal, partly cooking journal, partly letters to faceless friends throughout the internet. I’m so grateful you’ve stopped by, and I hope you’ll find something of value here and start a conversation!

The long version:

If this was a real life, face to face situation, I’d surely be awkward. I’m a rock solid introvert, and faced with new people, I’m really good at smiling and nodding, but really bad at making polite small talk.

Almost always though, if you were to mention food, we could swan dive into hours and hours of intriguing conversation. I love coffee, chocolate, cheese, and wine – not necessarily in that order. I try to eat healthfully most of the time, but I often fail, and sometimes I fail colossally. I have a strange and powerful weakness for jellybeans and Doritos, and they all too often lead me to my gut’s demise. Cooking is my necessary hobby (feeding a house of 6), and everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned by watching other people and reading. I’m not a chef by any means, but making a meal or cookies or cake that delights my friends and family feeds my soul and I’ll do it almost any chance I get.

I believe in strong friendships and community and loving people through sharing food – and if we’ve made it this far into the conversation, I’m likely to  invite you over for coffee and muffins as soon as we can coordinate dates on our calendars.

From there we might move onto books we love or don’t love, genres and authors that float our boats.  You might tell me your favorite movie, and I’d say it’s really hard to tell, because I’m not much of a movie watcher. I’ll almost always pick a book over the big (or little) screen.

They say first impressions happen in the first 30 seconds you meet someone. That spells nothing but trouble for me, because you’ll probably notice I’ve pulled my hair into my (super stubby) pony-tail (again), and I’m probably wearing torn jeans that are so worn through they’re borderline risque. I’m not much of a fashion diva. I count on my stylish friends to make sure I don’t waltz around in tacky outfits circa 2002, or 2006, or 2010. . . .  I am gradually finding my way – now that I’m pushing my 40th year on this earth, and I believe I’ve settled into some sort of Bohemian/Latin/American mash-up that happens to work for me here in Miami.

I love people dearly. I love my people under this roof – all five of them (my husband and 4 children ranging in age from 5-18), and I love people outside our four stucco walls too. Tell me a story of a someone struggling with sickness or loss of a loved one or destructive financial hardship or deep emotional pain, or tell me of moms and dads and kids living on the margins of society, and my heart rips in two. My husband jokes that I want to help everybody. But it’s not really a joke, I pretty much do deeply desire to help anyone within my reach.

It’s become increasingly important to me to support those struggling for dignified life in whatever way I can, thus my budding and drastically ballooning interest in buying ethical clothing and goods. I plan on writing a post to that end soon, and I’ll link to it when I do.

Last school year, I spent one morning a week volunteering at a local homeless shelter teaching a very loosely constructed art class to the ladies who resided there. Hold on a minute lest you think I’m trying to make myself into some sort of saint – I’m not (I’m not trying to, and I’m literally NOT), I’m telling you because I want you to know that my time with the ladies was no sacrifice. They fed my soul and woke up the artist in me that had been dormant for years – thus the slow bleed of art into this blog which used to be 99% food-related. Being there with them reminded me of the joy art brings to people, and they showed me my value as an artist. I was so far out-rewarded in that endeavor, and I don’t know where art and my deep-rooted affection for the homeless community will lead, but I hope it’s somewhere significant.

So now we are here – where the cookies are. Home is where we passionately create art from food and from paper and paint, where we feed the hearts and souls of our very favorite people. It’s where we love over shared bread and steaming cups of tea or cool glasses of wine, where we fill each other up with sustenance both physically and emotionally. I hope it feeds you too and, like I hope those who leave my house after a visit feel filled up and loved well, I hope for the same when you leave here. I hope this will become a home of sorts for you too.

As my grandfather would say, “I’m tickled pink” to have met you, and I’d love to hear from you if you’d like to leave a note!

xoxo –



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