Simple Meals + Honest Book Reviews + Practical Living
You guys. We did it. This is the last parsha of the book of Leviticus. I can’t even pretend that I’m not thrilled to move on, because I am, I am thrilled. Like most people, I find Leviticus very tedious, cumbersome, repetitive, and simply difficult to get through. But we did. We came through it, this is our final week on the Book of Leviticus, before next week, when we pick up in the wildness narrative, and move onto the Book of Numbers.
There is a very specific moment in the afternoon that I don’t think we talk about enough. For me, it’s usually around 2:07 p.m.
The kitchen is still messy from lunch. Someone is asking for a snack. Someone else is crying over something small but very important. Dinner hasn’t been started yet. The morning mess hasn’t fully been reset. You’ve been busy all day, but somehow it feels like nothing has actually gotten done.
And looming in the background is the rest of the day—school pickup, dinner, homework, bedtime, backpacks, closing down the house. It’s a lot.
I knew going into this… Leviticus is a bear. It’s always Leviticus, right? This weeks parsha is no exception. At first glance, Emor looks like a list of rules for priests. Who they can marry. When they can mourn. What disqualifies them from serving. It feels… distant. Irrelevant. Upon reading the first half of this parsha, I had to sit for a while to find the deeper meaning, the real thread to pull. I feel wildly unqualified to even begin to dissect the first half of Emor. And then, the final half, we have God, laying out the various feats and holidays that He wants us to observe. Holiness is structured. It lives in people, and it lives in time. “These are My fixed times,” God says—not when you feel ready, not when life slows down, but fixed. Built in. Protected. Emor, at its core, is a blueprint for a life that makes room for God—intentionally, rhythmically, and with care.
Meanwhile, enjoy a super cute photo of Poppy, our two week old Easter Egger.
If you had told me a decade ago that I’d be using AI almost daily, I would’ve laughed. I don’t understand tech, I don’t know what a “prompt” is, and I’m definitely not coding anything. And yet—here we are.
Somehow, ChatGPT has become one of the most helpful tools in my home. Not in a complicated, overwhelming way. In a very practical, “this actually makes my day easier” kind of way. So if you’re curious about AI but feel completely out of your depth, this is for you. Here are the main ways I use it in my real life as a stay-at-home mom of four.
This is Sally, one of our sassy Cinnamon Queens. This week, we decided to let her have (heavily supervised) free-range time in our yard. That night, the kids asked me what was for dinner (their favorite question, my least favorite question). I casually told them that I’m grilling chicken on the BBQ, and my three year old asks – without missing a beat – which chicken? As in, which one of our six chickens am I throwing on the BBQ for dinner? 🤣
This is one of the first parshas of Leviticus that actually makes sense to me. Very explicit, very black-and-white – do not do these things kind of rules. We may never fully understand, on this side of Heaven, The Lords reasonings behind them, but the Torah is very clear that there are reasons.
Unfortunately, George Saunders’ Vigil, was a big disappointment for me. I went into this book with a lot of anticipation. I’ve been a longtime fan of Saunders, and Lincoln in the Bardo is one of my all-time favorite audiobooks. I still think about it nearly a decade later. It was one of those rare listening experiences that felt more like a performance than a traditional book—layered, immersive, and emotionally powerful, with dozens of narrators creating this chorus-like world between life and death.
So when I saw Vigil coming out, I didn’t even hesitate. I downloaded it immediately. I went in expecting something similarly original or at least emotionally surprising. Instead, I found myself feeling… underwhelmed.