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It’s been a strange year thus far, in that I’ve been so caught up in work that the things I typically tend to most anxiously—friendships, dating, exercise, staying current with The Good Wife—have fallen by the wayside. Which is not at all to say that I no longer care about these core elements of my being (Jeffrey Dean Morgan is insanely hot; I shall never forsake him), but that the tension that usually surrounds them, the questioning, the self-doubt, the relentless uncertainty, all of that has fallen away. A welcome kind of stillness has settled around me by way of exhaustion.

I’m familiar with this myopia—it’s something I saw in my parents almost every day of my childhood from age 11 on, as they navigated the waters of being work-from-home business owners. At 13, while they discussed account management over dinner, I begged them to give us thirty minutes of each day untouched by business concerns. Even still, I noticed this same fierce penchant for entrepreneurship in myself as I grew up. I loved the challenge of building something out of nothing, I loved the rigor of standing unarmored in the world and demanding of myself that I find a way to make things work. I flinch to admit it, but I loved the risk, the danger, of being made so vulnerable.

And so, I’ve worked for myself since I graduated from college (excluding my brief stint as the owner of Kids Kare Babysitting when I was nine—though we were legit enough to have shirts embroidered with the logo I designed; it was tight).

Which means, primarily, that I’ve gotten very good at squirreling away money and living a life that feels luxe on a small budget. Financial instability is just about as stressful as deep, penetrating grief (I’ve tried both so you don’t have to!), and neither is livable long term. My desire for stability means that I always aim to have enough money saved to live on for at least six months or more. But as a freelance writer and editor, I faced down many dirty, snotty, humbling moments of asking for help when it was the last thing I wanted to do. Of admitting I could not always do it all on my own.

In the past year of full-time blogging, I’ve been able to achieve real stability, and I owe that largely to the intensity with which I have worked and the ferocity with which I have listened to my gut. I have worked doggedly, with an unwavering focus, to create content for, well, for you. For the alchemy of creating something that might help you live more easefully, more deliciously, more beautifully, more fully. That might help you be more real. And help me, too.

As I gear up for a trip home to Maui, I found myself eager to start the decompressing early and whipped up this ultra nourishing face mask to fulfill my premature spa cravings. This two-ingredient mask harkens back to one of the first spa products my mother made for the Grande Wailea as she was developing their termé baths—concocted with a base of deep green Hawaiian limu (seaweed). This face-focused version utilizes the anti-aging powers of raw honey to boost spirulina’s detoxifying, toning, inflammation calming, and softening properties.

My skin felt like Beyoncé when I washed this off: It’s body and beauty fuel to slay and keep on slaying. Even when you have to ask for help. Even when you’re exhausted. Especially when you need to be reminded who run the world.

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  • 1 tablespoon raw unfiltered honey
  • ½ teaspoon powdered spirulina blue-green algae


  1. Mix honey and spirulina into a smooth paste. Apply a teaspoon or more in a smooth, even layer to clean skin. Let dry for at least ten minutes, then wash clean. Moisturize as desired.
  • Meghan

    Does this store? Can I make a batch and give it as a gift? Maybe in a small mason jar?

    • Absolutely! It will keep a very long time in an airtight container in the fridge, and a pretty long time in an airtight container on a cool, dark shelf. Enjoy!

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