I’m Candace, a homebody existing somewhere between “I’ve got this” and “what the hell is this.” Life didn’t go as planned, but I assume that’s true for most people, so I try not to take it personally.

I prefer my espresso dark and my lattes made at home—by my husband, who, despite everything, continues to enable both my caffeine addiction and my questionable life choices.

I read before I write—mostly because writing is hard and reading is easier. But I write anyway. I hike because I have dogs. They demand it, and frankly, so do I—otherwise, we’d all start biting people.

This site exists because I made it. I code—badly, but with enthusiasm. What will end up on this site? Unclear. Probably a mix of my open letters and personal ruminations—some fleeting, some worth holding onto. And then there’s roast-ride-read: coffee that’s either divine or tastes like burnt regret, trails that make me question my life choices, and books I’ve loved (or resented). No themes, no schedules, no content strategy. Just words, arranged into sentences, when I feel like it.

Stay, don’t stay. Browse, don’t browse. Either way, I’ll be here, drinking coffee, questioning my decisions, and silently critiquing bad typography.