Arrival's overrated.
But being on the way somewhere is fun.
I’ve been trying to reduce my time on Instagram this year. In fact, the number one thing I’m eyeing this Black Friday is the brick — and that’s not an even affiliate link, I just thought I might not be the only one shamed by my screen time report every Sunday morning. (Seriously, Apple, right before I walk into GOD’S HOUSE?)
Aside from the obvious woes of excessive scrolling, I’ve noticed something about being on Instagram specifically — I want everyone’s house. I’ve never been one to compare my body or my vacation to yours, but do I want your perfect laundry room? Absolutely. (And while we’re at it, please tell me how it is always clean?!)
I’ll often catch myself looking at some perfectly captured, immaculately decorated, sun-soaked corner of someone’s home on the internet and find myself imagining that they’ve… arrived. Me? I have an “on the way” house. On the way to being organized. On the way to being perfectly styled. Even on the way to that down payment number that’ll get me a bigger, better house — as if that’s somehow the key to a bigger, better life. I know this isn’t true, of course, but I forget that when I look at perfect laundry rooms for too long.
Here’s what I do know: no matter what kind of house I have, I want everyone to be welcome inside of it. Hospitality is, second to writing, the thing I love most in the world. And I want to do it in every “on the way” house I find myself in. Because no one cares if your house is perfect; they just care if you have a place for them. We all want to linger in spaces that feel warm and welcoming, spaces where we’re wanted. That’s what I’m trying to build in my home and in my life: spaces to welcome people. Forget a perfect laundry room; I want a space that feels real and warm and safe to those who are welcomed inside it. I want that kind of a life, too.
I want an “on the way” home and an “on the way” life, one that’s not anxiously inching toward arrival, but wholeheartedly welcoming the journey. If you’re craving the same, I hope this corner of the internet will help you do just that. In On the Way Home (Official Version), I fully plan to chronicle both recipe fails and smashing successes, post books I rated 5 stars and books I put down halfway through, and share hospitality tips that work while regaling you with “learn from my mistakes” stories.
If you’re looking for an honest look into a regular life, juggling a full-time job with a hope for a hospitable home and a quest for decluttering that never quite ends, you’re in the right place. And while I’m at it, an earnest ask: writing actually is my full-time job. If you think recipes, reading recaps, home projects, and personal essays sound like fun in this season, you can literally help me pay my family’s mortgage by paying $5/month (or $50/year if you’re fancy) for my work. Here’s what you can expect:
A monthly reading, recipes, and recommendations recap
A monthly essay about what it looks like to be on the way home
Subscriber-only access to project updates and home style inspo
In the spirit of sale season (sidebar: when did Black Friday grow to the entire month of November?), monthly and annual subscriptions are 20% off through the rest of November. But if paying for words isn’t your shtick (or doesn’t fit your budget) these days, I totally get it. Stick around for free! You’ll still get my words in your inbox from time to time, and I’m just as grateful you’re here.
Cheers to being on the way home together. Let’s go buy bricks together so we can stop coveting laundry rooms.