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Galentine’s Day — that glorious, unofficial holiday dedicated to celebrating the women who keep us sane — rolled around again, and this year marked my second annual celebration with the Fab Five… minus one. One of our girls had a family emergency and was sorely missed, but she was with us in spirit (and will absolutely be back next year). This year’s adventure was a sip‑and‑shop , which sounded perfect in theory. And while the sipping was delightful and the shopping was cute, the venue forgot one crucial detail: tables . My crew? We are sip‑and‑ sit  women. We are busy, overextended, calendar‑color‑coded women. When we finally manage to get in the same room, we need chairs, snacks, and time to unload the entire contents of our lives. Hopefully next year’s venue will take the hint and provide a little seating for the gals who want to gab — because trust me, we can gab . After we politely sipped and strategically shopped, we took a moment to rummage through our goodie bags like kids on Halloween, comparing treats and treasures. Then we wandered a block or two down the street, admiring the Valentine‑themed storefronts like the romantics we are. And finally, we did what any self‑respecting group of girlfriends would do: we burrowed into a restaurant like ticks and ordered all the yummies. As we settled in, the hours ticked by — and we watched entire parties around us come and go while we stayed rooted, talking, laughing, venting, and catching up. It was like we were the immovable center of gravity and the rest of the restaurant simply orbited around us. It’s wild how much can happen in a single month among busy women — marriages of children, the loss of siblings, training for competitions, the completion of long‑held goals (hello, my book debut see link) https://a.co/d/02YB23Nu , and of course, all the tea that bubbles up between the big moments. We laughed, we vented, we caught up, we held space for each other. It was everything. I feel so blessed to have a circle of women who show up, who make time, who celebrate the highs and shoulder the lows, who lift each other up without hesitation. These friendships are the real love stories. And my wish — for every woman reading this — is that you have a group like this too. And if you don’t yet, maybe this is your sign to cultivate one. Through work, church, clubs, volunteering, or any other place where women gather, there are always others longing for connection, for laughter, for belonging. You might be surprised how many would love to be included. Here’s to another Galentine’s Day in the books — and to having our fifth seat filled again next year.

Somewhere along the way, we were all told that patience is a virtue. A noble trait. A sign of maturity. A marker of emotional intelligence. And sure — in theory, it sounds lovely. Like something you’d embroider on a pillow or whisper to a toddler who’s two minutes away from a meltdown. But lately? I’ve been feeling about as patient as a cat watching someone dangle a string just out of reach. And honestly, I’m starting to wonder if patience is overrated. I don’t think I’ve always been this way. I’ve always been a woman of action — a doer, a planner, a “let’s make it happen” kind of human. But ever since my father passed away, something in me shifted. Time suddenly feels… finite. Tangible. Like something you can hold in your hands and watch slip through your fingers if you’re not paying attention. And now? When my significant other casually mentions taking a trip a year from now , I’m already halfway through booking hotels, mapping routes, and checking flight prices. Waiting? I don’t know her. So, I decided to take a closer look at this whole patience thing — partly out of curiosity, partly because I suspect I might be driving the people around me a little bit bananas. Turns out, patience comes in three flavors: 1. Interpersonal Patience This is the patience you show your loved ones, coworkers, the person in front of you in the grocery store who seems personally offended by the concept of “moving forward,” and the driver ahead of you who believes turn signals are optional. Let’s just say… this is not my strongest category at the moment. 2. Patience in Life’s Hardships This is the grit stuff. The perseverance. The “life knocked me down but I’m getting back up because I have things to do” patience. Ironically, this is where I shine. I’ve weathered storms, walked through grief, and kept going. I can handle the big stuff. It’s the tiny, everyday nonsense that makes me want to scream into a pillow. 3. Daily Patience Ah yes, the patience required for the little hassles of life — slow Wi-Fi, long lines, the barista who spells your name “Kailynn” for the seventh time. This is where my fuse is currently the length of a matchstick. So How Do We Practice Patience Without Losing Our Spark? The key word here is practice . Not perfection. Not sainthood. Practice. Shift Your Perspective Instead of seeing slowing down as an obstacle, try seeing it as an opportunity. (Yes, I rolled my eyes writing that, but stay with me.) Slow Down on Purpose Read a book. Take a walk. Take a nap. Do something that forces your brain to stop sprinting. Get Comfortable Being Uncomfortable This one is a doozy. Sitting in discomfort feels like wearing a sweater made of cactus. But it’s where growth happens. Accept That You Are Not in Control of Everything I know. I hate it too. But some things are simply out of your hands — and that’s okay. Stop Taking Everything So Seriously Not everything is a crisis. Not everything needs a plan. Not everything needs your immediate action. (I’m saying this to myself as much as to you.) And Remember: Too Much Patience Is Also a Problem If you’re sacrificing your happiness, your needs, or your joy in the name of being endlessly patient… that’s not virtue. That’s martyrdom. Hard pass. Here’s to the Impatient Ones Here’s to the people who feel time moving faster now. Here’s to the ones who want to squeeze every drop of marrow out of life while they still can. Here’s to the planners, the doers, the “let’s book it now” crowd. Here’s to the ones who know that life is short and want to live it fully, loudly, and intentionally. If that makes us impatient? So be it. I’ll take impatient and alive over patient and passive any day.

Do you ever catch yourself dragging work stress home like an overstuffed tote bag you never asked for? In this dog‑eat‑dog world—where emails chase you like they’re auditioning for a horror movie—it’s way too easy to let work sneak into your personal life and start rearranging the furniture. Look, work stress is inevitable. But letting it hijack your happiness? Absolutely not. You deserve to be mentally steady, physically well, and emotionally available to the people who love you. They signed up for you , not the leftover fumes of your 3 p.m. meeting. So how do we shut it down? Enter the STOP Method , your new end‑of‑day power move. S — Shut Down Work Completely Close the laptop. Silence the notifications. Walk away like it’s a toxic ex who suddenly “just wants to talk.” T — Take a Deep Breath A slow, intentional breath can reset your whole vibe. It’s like hitting the refresh button on your brain. O — Offload the Negativity Let the nonsense go. All of it. No judgment, no replaying conversations in the shower, no imaginary comebacks. Release it like expired leftovers. P — Plug Into the Present Shift your attention to what actually matters: your home, your people, your peace, your snacks. This is where your real life lives. At the core of all this is boundaries —the grown‑woman kind. Yes, sometimes you’ll have to take a work call. But most of the time, you’re allowed to work when you work and live  when you live. That’s not selfish. That’s sanity. Create an end‑of‑day ritual that tells your brain, We’re off the clock, babe.  Maybe it’s a walk, a playlist, a cup of tea, or a dramatic “closing ceremony” where you shut your office door like you mean it. Consistency is the magic. Boundaries only work when you actually honor them. And because Kicking the Chaos with Kaylin is a community: What’s your go‑to move for unplugging at the end of the day? Share your secrets—we’re all trying to keep the chaos in its lane.

If you’re looking to spoil your sweetheart, your bestie, your office crew, or that neighbor who insists on blowing leaves directly into your yard, these Valentine Brownies will do the trick. They’re rich, decadent, and topped with a ganache so smooth it could negotiate world peace. Make them from scratch if you’re feeling domestic goddess energy—or take the shortcut when you’re tired, booked, or simply not in the mood to measure flour like a pioneer woman. 🍫  Scratch Brownie Batter (For when you want to brag that you made them “from scratch” even though it took 12 minutes) Ingredients 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 3 ounces good-quality unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped 1/2 cup all-purpose flour 1/4 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 cup sugar 2 large eggs 1/4 cup milk 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Instructions Preheat oven to 325°F and grease a 9" springform pan like you mean it. Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt—your dry team. Melt butter and chocolate in a double boiler, pretending you’re on a baking show and the cameras are rolling. Beat eggs and sugar until pale and fluffy, like your winter legs. Add the chocolate mixture, milk, and vanilla. Fold in the dry ingredients and try not to eat the batter straight from the bowl. Bake 25–30 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean and you feel smug. Cool completely. Yes, completely. I know patience is not our ministry. 🍫  Silky Ganache Topping (The part that makes people think you went to culinary school) Ingredients 4 ounces good-quality semisweet chocolate 2/3 cup heavy cream Instructions Warm the cream until it’s just simmering—not boiling like your last nerve. Pour over chocolate and stir until glossy and smooth. Let it cool and thicken. Pour over brownies like you’re blessing them. Chill until set. Remove from fridge 15 minutes before serving so you don’t break a knife or a spirit. Decorate with: Sprinkles, marshmallows, whipped cream, or whatever says “I love you but also I’m fabulous.” 💕  Shortcut Version (Because sometimes the only thing we’re making from scratch is boundaries) Grab your favorite boxed brownie mix. Bake in a 9x13 pan so they’re thin and ready for ganache glam. Cool completely. Top with your homemade ganache so no one knows you took the shortcut. Slice, serve, and accept compliments with grace and a little hair flip. Have an ice-cold glass of milk within reach......these are rich and decadent.

My mother always wanted to write a book. She never got the chance to finish it, but I read her pages she started years ago. And let me tell you — she had something special brewing. A wonderful story, a spark of imagination, a voice that deserved to be heard. I wish she’d had the time, space, or maybe just the encouragement to keep going. Maybe that’s why, as the years rolled on, a story started forming in my own head. It lived there rent‑free for a long time, popping up at inconvenient moments, whispering, “Hey… remember me?”  But getting it out of my head and onto paper? That took time. Life, work, motherhood, chaos — you know the drill. But anyone who knows me knows this: give me a project, and I’m off to the races. So once I finally sat down and started writing, I couldn’t stop. And now… it’s finished. Is it a deep, literary‑masterpiece‑for-the-ages kind of book? No. It’s a fun, easy read — the love child of Netflix’s The Diplomat and a Hallmark movie. It starts with a dash of reality and then takes a delightful turn into fiction. It’s playful. It’s heartfelt. It’s mine. And honestly? Even if only a handful of people read it — the ones who love me enough to devote a few hours to the words I poured onto the page — my heart is already full. Finishing it was the victory. If you ever decide to give it a read, I hope it brings a smile to your face. I hope it feels like a warm mug of something cozy on a chilly day. I hope it reminds you that joy doesn’t have to be complicated. But more than anything, I hope you’re out there chasing your own dreams, no matter your age, stage, or season. I’m doing it — finally — and it feels pretty incredible. Here’s to late bloomers, second acts, and stories that refuse to stay quiet. The release date with be February 9, 2026 on Amazon.

In my New Year “Keeping It Real” article, I declared that our theme for the year would be one simple word: keep . We’ve already covered keeping moving  — because stagnation is cute for no one — and now that February has rolled in with all its hearts, flowers, and chocolate‑covered everything, it’s time to shift into keeping loving . And yes, that includes loving other people. But let’s be honest: some of y’all are out here loving everyone but yourselves. Running on fumes. Giving from an empty cup. Treating yourself like the clearance rack while everyone else gets the boutique experience. Not this year. So, ask yourself: What is your love language — to yourself? What would make you  feel loved? Maybe it’s giving yourself permission to take a break without apologizing to the universe. Maybe it’s finally buying that little something you’ve been eyeing but talked yourself out of because it wasn’t “practical.” (Spoiler: joy is practical.) Maybe it’s rest. Maybe it’s indulgence. Maybe it’s a moment of peace where no one is asking you for anything. Whatever brings you back to yourself — keep loving yourself that way. Loving your people is beautiful. Loving your job, your community, your church — all wonderful. But loving yourself? That’s not just okay. It’s non‑negotiable. And once you start loving yourself, don’t stop there. What about loving your life? Are you simply getting by, or are you actually loving the life you’re living? We all have struggles, and no one’s world is rainbows and butterflies every day. But overall — does your life spark anything in you? Joy? Curiosity? A little mischief? If yes, keep loving it. If no, then it’s time to shake something up. Find the spark. Create the spark. Light the spark yourself if you have to. The moral of the story is simple: Find what brings you joy — in your personal life, in your world — and love it hard, love it boldly . Love it intentionally. Love it like you mean it. Because self‑love isn’t selfish. Self‑love is the foundation for everything else.  So, keep loving.

Does anyone out there not  have a trendy water bottle these days? If you didn’t already own one, chances are someone lovingly shoved one into your hands over the holidays. We’re living in the golden age of hydration accessories: Stanleys, Swigs, Hydrojugs, Owalas, Brümates, Yetis… plus the freebie bottles from health fairs and conventions that somehow multiply like rabbits in the back of your pantry. They come in every color, shape, and size. Some sport your alma mater, some your favorite team, and some are bedazzled with stickers that proudly announce your hobbies to strangers in the grocery line. Whether you have one beloved bottle or collect them like a Trekkie with limited‑edition figurines, hydration matters — so you might as well enjoy the experience. I recently had to say goodbye to my beloved pink Stanley — the one that kept my water ice‑cold all day and carried my chapstick, eye drops, and half my personality in that adorable little pouch. As much as I adored her, I’m pretty sure she was giving me “Stanley elbow” (which I’ve decided is the cousin of tennis elbow, but far more glamorous). My right elbow was constantly sore, like it had been training for a hydration-based triathlon. So, I finally traded her in for a smaller, equally pretty Owala that doesn’t weigh as much as a toddler. The only downside? I now have to refill it approximately 27 times a day. Hydration is apparently my new part‑time job. But all kidding aside, hydration is essential for everyone. It becomes especially important for women of a more mature age. Water is literally life: the Earth is 71% water, and our bodies are about 60–65% water. We’re basically very sophisticated houseplants with emotions. And as we age (gracefully, of course), our bodies get a little less efficient at holding onto that precious H₂O. Why? A few reasons: Our natural sense of thirst fades — rude, honestly. Muscle mass decreases, and muscles store a lot of water. Kidney function changes. Medications like diuretics and laxatives can increase fluid loss. Mobility challenges can make getting up for a drink feel like a whole expedition. And sometimes we simply eat less, which means we drink  less. So how do we stay hydrated without turning it into a full‑time job? Let’s make it fun — or at least mildly entertaining. Start with the water bottle. Pick one that fits your lifestyle and personality. Something that makes you smile when you grab it. Then keep it filled and keep it handy. Stash a few around the house, in the car, at your desk — like little hydration traps you set for yourself. And you don’t have to stick to plain water unless you want to. Fill your bottle with something you’ll actually want to sip: flavored water, herbal tea, diluted juice, broth, or milk. If you’re feeling fancy, make fruit‑ or herb‑infused ice cubes. You can also make ice cubes out of coconut water. Or do what I do: fill a pitcher with water, toss in sliced cucumber or citrus, and let it chill until it tastes like a spa day. You can also eat your water. Soups, stews, ( which are especially cozy this chilly time of year) watermelon, yogurt, oatmeal, Jell‑O — all delicious ways to sneak in hydration without chugging like you’re at a frat party. If you’re a routine lover like me, hydration habits are easy. If you’re not, don’t worry — this one is low‑maintenance. Take a drink when you wake up. Sip with meals. Have a swig after every bathroom break. Or just keep your bottle with you and sip throughout the day like the classy, well‑hydrated queen you are. Watch for the sneaky signs of dehydration: dizziness when standing, irritability, dry mouth, or just feeling “off.” Awareness is everything. And the perks of staying hydrated? Oh, they’re good. More energy. Less fatigue. Happier skin. Better mood and memory. Happier joints. Healthier kidneys. Fewer UTIs. Basically, hydration is the closest thing we have to a legal anti‑aging serum. So, grab your favorite bottle, slap a sticker on it that proudly proclaims your latest hobby, fill it with something delicious, and drink up. Your future self — glowing, energized, and not dizzy when she stands up — will thank you.

Paid vacation days are not a perk. They’re not a favor. They’re not a privilege bestowed upon you by a benevolent employer. Vacation days are a benefit —just like retirement contributions, health insurance, and life insurance. You earn them. You’re entitled to them. Full stop. And yet, according to a 2024 Pew Research Center poll, nearly half of American workers don’t take all of their vacation days. Half. It’s a statistic that fits neatly into the hustle‑culture mindset that has seeped into every corner of our work lives. We glorify being busy. We romanticize burnout. We treat exhaustion like a résumé booster. Meanwhile, workers in many other countries take their time off without a second thought. They unplug. They rest. They understand that stepping away from work is part of being a healthy, functioning human. But here? Too many employees say they feel guilty for using the time they’ve earned. That guilt can come from a boss, a coworker, or even from within. And then there are the people who brag about not using their vacation days—as if martyrdom is a badge of honor. As if the office will crumble without them. Spoiler alert: it won’t. It never does. Any workplace that tries to make you feel guilty for taking time off is out of line. A boss, a business, or a coworker who sighs dramatically when you put in for PTO is not someone whose opinion you need to internalize. Because here’s the truth no one wants to say out loud: no matter how good you are at your job, no matter how many late nights you put in, no matter how many weekends you sacrifice—everyone is replaceable. The machine keeps running. So, take the days. Take all  the days. Go to the beach. Fly to Europe. Book the cruise. Make it a long weekend. Take a road trip with your girlfriends. Or stay home in your pajamas with a stack of books and a DoorDash budget. Rest is rest. Vacation boosts creativity. It improves mental health. It makes you a better employee in the long run. If anything, your workplace should be encouraging you to take time off because it benefits them too. So, shed the guilt. Unplug. Step away. Use those vacation days without apology. You earned them—and you deserve the break.

I am the mother of three furbabies — and the “grandmother” of one — and each of them has carved out their own place in our little family. Henry, my 11‑year‑old Beagle, is the leader of the pack. He has the sweetest soul, the gentlest eyes, and an appetite that knows no limits. Then there’s Daisy, my 9‑year‑old Cavapoo who was supposed  to be a lap dog but instead became the assertive boss babe of the household. Kevin, my 5‑year‑old Frenchton, is my shadow and unapologetic momma’s boy. And finally, the grand‑furbaby: Phoebe, a 4‑year‑old pit‑boxer mix who was rescued and now looks at my daughter like she hung the moon. She has no idea how strong she is — physically or emotionally. To us, these aren’t “just dogs.” They are family. They rule the roost, and honestly, we wouldn’t have it any other way. Some people think it’s too much, but I’ve always loved having a dog around… and then that dog needed a friend… and then it snowballed into this joyful, chaotic, loving pack. Each one is adored. Each one is their own little character. A few weeks ago, I noticed a couple of small lumps on Henry and thought he might be losing a bit of weight. My daughter, who used to work at a vet clinic, took him in for a check‑up when she came home for Christmas break. The lumps turned out to be harmless — but the weight loss wasn’t. An ultrasound revealed a large mass, later diagnosed as carcinoma, taking up more than 75% of his liver. The news was devastating. And yet… Henry is still Henry. He’s still gobbling down food, now with the help of high‑calorie prescription meals. He’s still happy, tail wagging, running the baseboards for crumbs, howling at squirrels, soaking up sunbeams, and curling up with us on the couch. But I know — we all know — that this won’t last forever. The time is coming, and coming quickly, when his body won’t let him be the dog he’s always been. I dread the day I lose him, whether he passes naturally or I have to make that heart-breaking decision for him. In preparation, my daughter made salt‑dough so we could make pawprints of all the pups. I reached out to a photographer, Danielle Sloan, https://daniellesloanphoto.com  who graciously squeezed us in for a fur‑family photo session. She did an amazing job and was so wonderful to work with. I’m so grateful we did the photo shoot....those images are keepers that I will treasure always. Even thinking about the limited time I have left with Henry brings me to tears. I will miss him more than I can put into words. I’ll miss his stubborn refusal to come inside at 2 a.m. because he’s convinced something is lurking in the woods. I’ll miss his howl, his sweet head tilt, his big brown eyeliner eyes, and the way he somehow smells like Fall all the time. He was supposed to grow old with me. He was supposed to keep leading his little pack, who I know will wonder where their leader went. So, for now, I’m cherishing every moment. He can have all the extra treats he wants. He can nap on the bed. He can “hunt” bunnies til his heart’s content. Whatever brings him joy, he gets. Dogs are wonderful little souls who simply don’t live long enough. But Henry — and Daisy, Kevin, and Phoebe — have enriched my life in ways I’ll never be able to repay. I hope they’ve always felt loved, safe, and happy. Because they are, and they always will be.

Somewhere along the way, adulthood tricked us into thinking we were supposed to be serious, responsible, and immune to childish delights. And yet, let a single snowflake drift past the window and suddenly every grown adult is standing there like a golden retriever who just heard the word “walk.” Let’s be honest: we never outgrow the thrill of a snow day. We just get better at pretending we’re not checking the weather app every 12 minutes like it owes us money. The Evolution of the Snow Day Ritual Back in the day, we had rituals . Pajamas inside out. Spoons under pillows. Ice cubes flushed like tiny frozen sacrifices to the winter gods. We were basically running a small‑scale meteorological cult. Now? We rely on meteorologists who are either: Doom prophets  predicting “historic accumulation,” or Optimistic liars  who swear we’ll get 6 inches and deliver 0.2 inches of disappointment. Meanwhile, grocery stores are experiencing their own personal apocalypse. Bread? Gone. Milk? Vanished. Eggs? Don’t even ask. It’s as if everyone collectively decided to survive the storm on French toast alone. Adults Want Snow Days Just as Badly Kids get snow days all the time. Adults? We get: Sick days Vacation days And the occasional “I can’t come in because my dog ate something mysterious and is now vibrating” day But a true  snow day — a guilt‑free, obligation‑free, boss‑approved day of doing absolutely nothing productive — that’s rare magic. So when the forecast whispers “possible accumulation,” the group chat at work lights up like Times Square. Suddenly everyone’s a meteorologist, a survivalist, and a hopeful child all at once. The Perfect Grown‑Up Snow Day Agenda Let’s walk through the ideal adult snow day — the one we fantasize about while pretending to work. 1. The Alarm Stays Off This is non‑negotiable. If you wake up before your body is ready, you’re doing snow day wrong. You should rise naturally, peacefully… or because your bladder said “good morning.” 2. Admire the Winter Wonderland Shuffle to the window, coffee‑less and half‑awake, and admire the pristine blanket of snow. Then open the door and release the dogs, who will immediately act like they’ve never seen weather before. 3. Soup or Chili That Simmer All Day This is the law of snow days. Something must be bubbling on the stove. Something that makes the whole house smell like comfort and childhood and the Food Network all at once. 4. Binge Something Without Shame Snow days are for: Starting a new show Catching up on an old one Rewatching something you’ve already seen 14 times because it’s comforting and your brain is tired No guilt. No productivity. Just vibes. 5. Fireplace Shenanigans If you have a fireplace, congratulations — you’re now the CEO of Cozy. Roast marshmallows. Make s’mores. Shake up some old‑school Jiffy Pop like you’re starring in a retro commercial. 6. Embrace Your Inner Child Outside Bundle up like the Michelin Man and head outside. Build a snowman. Make a snow angel. Stage a dramatic winter photo shoot like you’re auditioning for a Hallmark movie. 7. Warm Up Like Royalty Once you’re back inside, thaw out under a heated blanket with a good book. Or go full spa mode: Bubble bath Face mask Fuzzy socks Zero responsibilities 8. Bake Something Gooey Cookies. Brownies. Cinnamon rolls. Anything that makes the house smell like a bakery and your soul feel like it’s being hugged. 9. End the Day With a Warm Drink Hot cocoa, hot tea, hot toddy — whatever warms your hands and your spirit. Sip it slowly. Pretend you’re in a cabin in the mountains. Ignore the fact that you’re actually in your living room with mismatched socks. And If You’re Lucky… You wake up the next morning, peek out the window, and realize the universe has blessed you with a second snow day. That’s not weather — that’s divine favor.

If you’re a Friends  fan, you probably remember the episode where Monica begs Phoebe for her grandmother’s legendary chocolate chip cookie recipe. Phoebe, sworn to secrecy by her French grandmother “Nestlé Toulouse,” finally agrees to share it… only for a fire to destroy the recipe. Cue Monica trying to reverse‑engineer the world’s greatest cookie from a single frozen leftover, Joey eating the evidence, and the big reveal that the treasured family recipe came straight off the back of a Nestlé Toll House bag. Well, I had my own “Nestlé Toulouse” moment recently. I had baked a batch of my “famous” chocolate chip oatmeal cookies to take to game night with Kerry and Andy — mostly because I know Kerry loves cookies and I enjoy being everyone’s favorite snack‑bringer. A week later, Kerry texted me asking if I’d be willing to share the recipe. I laughed to myself, walked over to the cabinet, and pulled down my canister of Quaker Oats. I popped off the lid, took a screenshot of the recipe printed right there on the inside, and sent it to her. I do tweak it a bit — chocolate chips instead of raisins (because raisins are objectively wrong in cookies) and a generous sprinkle of cinnamon before baking — but still. There it was. My “secret family recipe.” Kerry seemed to be expecting something handwritten on a stained index card, passed down through generations of master bakers. And I had to admit, with a little shrug, that this is  our family recipe. I don’t come from a long line of culinary geniuses. I come from a long line of lovely, strong, big‑hearted women who tried really hard to cook something edible for the people they loved. Good baking seems to be a recessive gene in our family — one my daughter thankfully inherited, because she’s an incredible baker and cook. So yes, my famous chocolate chip oatmeal cookies are brought to you by my “Uncle” Quaker’s recipe. And honestly, I’m not mad about it. Here’s to all the Nestlé Toll House and Quaker Oats relatives out there — the ones who may not have passed down legendary recipes, but passed down love, effort, and the joy of feeding people anyway.   Do any of you have a "family" recipe that you'd like to share with us here at kicking the chaos?

🛒  Ingredients 2 lbs skinless chicken Boil and shred or  grab a rotisserie chicken if you’re living your best shortcut life 3.5 cups (28 oz) chicken broth 3 cans white beans (navy, great northern, or a mix) 1 medium onion, diced ½ teaspoon garlic (or more — garlic lovers unite) 1 tablespoon salt (less if this isn’t your thing) 1 teaspoon cumin 2 cups Monterey Jack cheese — the secret creamy magic Optional: ⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper for a little kick Optional: extra garlic powder or any seasonings your heart whispers 🍲  Directions Sauté the diced onion and garlic in a tablespoon of olive oil until they smell like comfort itself. In a large pot or crockpot, combine the chicken, broth, beans, and your sautéed onion/garlic mixture. Stir in the salt and cumin. Add cayenne pepper or extra seasonings if you’re feeling bold. Stir in the Monterey Jack cheese — watch it melt into creamy perfection. Heat for at least 30 minutes to let everything mingle. Enjoy. Preferably wrapped in a blanket, watching snow fall, pretending the world has paused just for you. Garnish with crackers, tortilla chips, cheese, or sour cream....anything your heart desires.