Life Interlude #4

Travel, Home, Family, Alignment, Gratitude, & Finding Abundance

Hi there, friends, both old and new! Happy New Year to you all.

I have to start with a heartfelt THANK YOU to the one and only Evan Kleiman of KCRW’s Good Food for recommending my own little Photographer’s Miscellany on her Good Food Substack. Whoa. Evan, I am humbled, deeply grateful, and feel very aw shucks about this unexpected endorsement. Good Food is a podcast (and newsletter) that I’ve been listening to faithfully for more than a decade. Evan is a legend in the food world, who produces thoughtful, diverse and deeply moving stories about food and people, in a voice that is trustworthy, kind and intelligent, and in a manner I find truly compelling. From the bottom of my heart, Evan, thank you.

If you’re new here, I sincerely hope not to bore or overburden you with content. But instead offer interesting musings, recommendations and stories about twice a month. As always, I mix it up with deep dives into photography, small essays on life and culture, and other discoveries I’ve made and want to share. I’m likely to write about travel, food and cooking, gardening, books, motherhood, design, what it is like living overseas, or style.

Lastly, THANK YOU to you all for being here. I don’t promote this newsletter enough, and I’ve never put anything behind a paywall. So far. Yet, I have well over 100 folks subscribed. If that many people came to a party at my house I would be floored. However you found me here, I’m happy to have you. Come in, sit down, I hope you find it somehow nourishing and cozy.

Travel, Family, and Simple Comforts

The end of 2025 was, in all honesty, a blur of travel. We were on a plane A LOT. I say this knowing that even as I complain about it, I am doing so from a place of privilege. Because it is inherently something of a luxury to travel at all, let alone transcontinentally. Once we got where we were going, and the tiredness subsided, I enjoyed pockets of deep contentment, joy, silliness, and the comforting familiarity of being with family celebrating holidays.

When I last left you, I had just returned from Paris. It was as Paris always is to me: special, cozy, elegant, and delicious. Only four days later, and after putting up all of the Christmas decorations at home, including our tree and a gazillion ornaments, we were on a plane en route to San Francisco. There, we’d celebrate both my Mom’s birthday and Thanksgiving in Napa.

It was delightful to be back in Napa, my first and forever home, and to have Edie experience a big proper Thanksgiving in the US. Napa is the place I miss most in California, and in the whole of the country. My parents hosted 20 this year. There was a lot of cooking, eating, seeing old friends, hugging family we do not see enough, fun excursions, a ribald party, a Christmas extravaganza in Petaluma, and wonderful, undistracted family time most of all. I made a complicated pumpkin cheesecake with whiskey pecan caramel sauce. But it turned out the basic pumpkin pie I also threw together, was what I, and everyone else, preferred in the end. We moved swiftly from the autumnal glory of Thanksgiving into Christmas mode, and got to help decorate my parents house this year. My mother, my daughter, and I set up the snow village atop the piano all together, a tradition started by my Mom and me back when I was little. It was special and I am still lamenting my lack of photos to commemorate that and so many other moments we had. I was so busy being and doing and talking and laughing and sleeping and not sleeping, that I didn’t pause to capture much at all. And while being present in the moment is great and all, I’m sad I didn’t get more photos of Edie with everyone there, and with us, sharing in all that she could.

One day, I drove to SF and dropped off my brother, then made my way from the Richmond to the Haight to Potrero Hill without flinching. Despite not driving or even owning a car in the last four years, nor being back in the city. Not really. At first I was hesitant and even put in directions, but by the end I was swerving quickly into the next lane while cursing Muni. Even though it was only a day, it felt nice to be back in SF on my own. Some areas felt really different and others looked exactly the same. I saw a few friends for great catchups, superb drinks, and ended with a stellar meal that reminded me of the unparalleled caliber of restaurant dining, and all the food I miss. There’s a vintage green plaid shirt, threadbare, with white pearl snaps hanging in my closet, and a chunky silver braided pinky ring to remind me of this particular day.

Edie is a ball of joy, and during her time in both Napa and Rochester, was genuinely happy to be with everyone all the time. It was heartwarming to witness, and a good gut check. If we could all try to look at life through the eyes of a happy toddler, and take such pleasure and gusto in the most mundane things, we would all be a lot better off.

We stayed two weeks in California, then we came back to Zürich for an additional two weeks, before leaving again to see family on the other coast. Our city is particularly lovely during the holidays, with the Lucy lights the abundant and charming Christmas markets all around and the exact right amount of cold chill in the air. Truth be told, I am always slightly reluctant to leave. Especially if it means I may miss a pretty snowfall, which amps up the festive charm into Hallmark movie territory.

There wasn’t any snow (that would come later), but I utilized my time wisely. I made visits to the Weihnachtsdorf in Bellevue, our closest one. And spent the appropriate amount of time browsing in shops, seeing friends, drinking ample gluhwein, and even getting properly cold to the bone on a particularly freezing night. So cold, we all simply had to go home.

Between all this Andy actually went back to SFO for work in Palo Alto and returned again before our next sojourn over the seas. Even though he gets the prize for too much traveling, I get the consolation of essentially parenting without a partner for two weeks. During which time there was also a lot of packing and unpacking and laundry, and more laundry, and packing again.

For Christmas, we flew direct to Toronto, then drove to Rochester. It is a fairly easy drive, under three hours and crucially, it means avoiding all NY airports and US domestic flying during the height of the holidays. Which in and of itself warrants a no holds barred Hell Yes shouted to the rafters from me. Because if you have been in those airports during that time, then you already know.

Rochester is a city that I have grown to really love. Yes, it is cold as hell and I’m sure that if I actually lived there, I’d have some major adjustments to make regarding the relentless, serious winter. But as an idea, a dream, there’s a lot I love. Of course having family there is a big part of that. But also, there are so many beautiful old houses, on big lots. And it’s not wildly expensive like the entire Bay Area, where I happened to grow up. There is a really strong community, cool places to eat, awesome wine regions close by, and nice people. It is big enough but not too big. There are cute, cozy little neighborhoods to wander through, a University, an airport, and the whole Eastman Kodak complex, too, which is neat.

On this trip, we rotated homes for Christmas Eve and Christmas celebrations, did puzzles, made fires, took windswept, fiercely cold dog walks, took Edie sledding, made snow angels, ate and cooked, read books, played with toys, danced and played music. I roasted a chicken, tasted wines from the finger lakes, and saw Back to the Future on 35mm at the Kodak Eastman Museum Theater, while it snowed heavily. I even had my own real life asmr YouTube scene watching the snow fall quietly outside through a picture window, while listening to jazz, a twinkly Christmas tree in the corner, as the fire crackled next to me, with a warm blanket and book in my lap.

Though it was hard to leave that coziness behind, I was also looking forward to coming home. Once we got back, and with nowhere else—finally—to be, I slipped soothingly back into my own little domicile routines and rituals. Although the end of 2025 was hectic at times, it was also wonderful, and I was never not happy to be where I was. OK except maybe during that last flight. Yet in this new, even numbered year, I’ve vowed to plan ahead better so I can avoid the stress of last-minuteness that does not suit me well. I’ve also, after so much snow in NY, vowed to get proper snow boots.

New Year, New Word

Though I’m not usually one for New Year’s Resolutions, I do find myself in January reflecting back on what I did and didn’t like about the previous year. What I want more of in my life and what I want less of, too.

After all of our hectic travel, and feeling the negative effects of my own foolhardy procrastination on aspects of our domestic life, I vowed to be more organized in 2026. I want to plan ahead better so that we’re not buying plane tickets, booking a catsitter, or even planning date nights at the very last minute. More than just travel, I also want to structure the time I spend on my creative pursuits as well. That includes consistency in writing and posting, here on Substack.

Looking ahead and planning far out in advance does not come naturally to me, I admit. I’m not, by and large, a goal setter. I have vague ideas about where I want things to go, but I don’t usually put pen to paper and plan them. The BIG exception to this is ironically, in my work. In fact, I’m super duper organized and a planner extraordinaire when it comes to producing a photo shoot. I work with clients months and weeks ahead and create massive, highly detailed shoot plans with timelines, subject matter, location, wardrobe and models, props, and even specifying the angle of the camera or lens choice for a particular shot on our list.

After doing some journaling, mulling over it, and exploring definitions, I decided on my word for 2026. At a meeting with my creative circle here in Zürich, we talked about our words and why we chose them, then did a fun hand-lettering session to embellish our word, write it large, and give it gravitas. Shall I tell you my word? Before I do, this is important: a friend in the group eschewed the idea of picking just one word because it felt too restrictive for her. I’m not here to tell you you should follow my lead. If it helps, if it feels right, go for it. If not, there are other ways to find your compass, if indeed you need one.

My word for 2026 is align. To me, it means streamlining, editing, balancing, adjusting, fine tuning, orientating, and organizing. It means harmonizing aspects of my life so they are in balance, and it means adjusting expectations versus reality—whether it is a trip, a photo project, or how much I can get done in a day. In order to align, I will need to look ahead and anticipate what challenges are coming, in order to achieve that balance, that harmony I want to have when life gets busy. So what do you think?

On Gratitude

I started and stopped this post so many times. I wanted to write about travel while I was in the midst of jet lag brain fog and very under slept. I wanted to write about Thanksgiving when you live outside the US, then Christmas, then winter weather, then family, then how travel is different when you live abroad, then about how having family far away is the hardest part of living abroad, and so on, and so on. But in thinking about all of these topics and never settling on one, nor managing to sit down to write, I started to think about gratitude. Because all of those things, and everything I’ve written so far is ultimately about gratitude. I could do an entire, lengthy post on it, and maybe I already sort of have. But in the interest of brevity, and clicking publish, here is a short list for now.

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Thanks so much for reading Photographer’s Miscellany. I am honored to have you here. If you enjoyed this post, and would like to keep up with me, please share, subscribe or drop me a note.

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WHAT I’M GRATEFUL FOR, AS 2026 BEGINS:

My family. I’m very lucky to have a daughter who is almost always happy, who has a sweet temperament, and who wakes up smiling. I’m also very lucky to have a husband who has been through so much with me, who knows me better than anyone, who is unfailingly patient and steady, and good to me. He is also a fun, generous, kind, thoughtful and loving Dad. With what I’ve already said in this whole post, it hopefully goes without saying, but I’m blessed to genuinely love and care for my extended family as well. I’m grateful that we’re not the kind of family where a holiday gathering equals arguments.

Where I live, and the places that are also home. Zürich of course, which is easy to love. Also Napa and now Rochester. SF somewhat. And also Heidelberg, and in it’s own way, Berlin.

My health and the health of my loved ones. Mine isn’t perfect but it is pretty dang good. The fact that I can walk everywhere and carry groceries or a sleeping child up three flights of stairs multiple times a day is pretty lucky when you really think about it. In my immediate orbit there is no cancer, no alzheimer’s, nor any other debilitating diseases to contend with. KNOCK ON WOOD. But it’s worth saying again, how truly thankful I am for healthy parents and siblings, and husband and child.

The travel I get to do. Living in central Europe is really great that way. Paris or Krakow or Budapest or Vienna or Berlin or Dublin or Lisbon or Rome or Copenhagen in under a few hours. There are so many places not on this continent that I also want to visit. But there’s time. I’m really grateful to be able to go to some amazing places, so easily. Transiting in and out of Zürich airport is efficient, smooth, airy and comfortable. Train travel is a dream, and one of the things I love most about it here. Whether by plane or by train travel is accessible, efficient, reliable and fairly affordable. We don’t own a car and I don’t miss it whatsoever.

How Motherhood has changed me. There are a myriad ways, but the one I want to highlight is: presence. I’ve come to a point on this parenthood journey where, when I am WITH Edie—playing make believe, or walking in town, or pushing her on a swing—it is enough to just be with her. In fact it is better. The emails can wait, the laundry will get done, the dinner will get made. But it’s better for her and for me, to be tuned in with our attention mutually on each other, and the outside world.

The view from my office window. Rooftops and treetops glistening with snow. Seeing the first green buds of spring begin to break. Heavy and lush during a summer thunderstorm. And vibrant with autumn color as breezes swirl with leaves that pile on the ground. Noticing the seasons shift within this rectangular space is steadying in its regularity, like the rhythm of a heartbeat.

My mother’s minestrone soup and how cooking and rituals ground me. As soon as the temperature drops and winter approaches, I want to make my mother’s minestrone soup. It is a recipe that she has honed over many years, and to me there is no parallel. Often she cooks it a night or two before Thanksgiving, when the family is beginning to gather, arriving at different times, seeking nourishment and home. I remember having it after a harrowing drive back from college, through a flooded Bay Area, and nothing else could have soothed me more. I’ve already begun to teach my daughter how to make it. I love how cooking this dish, reminds me of my Mom who lives really far away at the moment. It connects me to her in a very specific way, each time I pull up her pared down, hand typed recipe begin the first step, browning the sausage. No matter what happened yesterday, or what happens tomorrow, I can return to this soup that I have made countless times, and the ritual of cooking it slowly and steadily brings me back to myself, to my mother, and to what home means to me.

My creative work and the journey I’ve had as an entrepreneur. Making new connections and pushing myself creatively. Looking back and taking stock of all that I’ve done to get to this point. Last year I had the opportunity to present my work and my perspective to an audience of peers, friends, collaborators and complete strangers who are nevertheless successful and driven. It was unexpectedly satisfying to not only look back and reflect on my successes, and my trajectory but share them in a public way to an audience. It’s important not to make yourself small. Substack has also helped me with this hurdle.

The community I’ve made here in Zürich. For the incredible, diverse, lovely, kind, generous, brilliant and inspiring people I have met here and who have become my friends, my confidants, my clients and colleagues, my advisors, my besties, my travel companions, my neighbors turned closest friends, my pals, and those who are all of those put together. I love how Zürich is this small big city, and how you run into people you know, and overlap in unexpected ways.

All the plants in my life. The ones out my balcony doors and all the ones I manage to keep alive here at home. Occasionally I lose one, but for the most part, they thrive. There’s a different kind of pride and deep satisfaction in caring for something very simple over a very, very long time. There’s pleasure in sinking your hands into dirt. Caring for plants is a release, a comfort, a challenge, and they literally lower stress. They make my home more happy and by extension myself. I want Edie to grow up in a place where plants and nature are all around.

I’m sure there will be more items in my gratitude list that I think of, as soon as this is out in the world. I tried not to dwell too much on political instability and how fraught everything everywhere is, but stick to more personal things. However, I am of course, also thankful and extremely grateful that I’m not separated from my child or my spouse, imprisoned without cause or due process, that I’m not running undercover for fear of bombs, or witnessing starvation of the most vulnerable. There’s a lot to be scared of and depressed about out in our world right now. But I have always staunchly believed in the power of hope and positivity, despite it all. That in fact, it is a choice we can make each day to see the light through the cracks and that when we are without hope, we have given in and allowed the darkness to win. I truly believe deep in my heart that we can each as individuals be the change we wish to see in the world. And that includes how we show up, the energy we bring, the kindness we show others.

Thank you, as always, for reading. And happy 2026!