A Rainy Week, a Warm Crockpot, and the Life We Choose to Live

This is an ad-free premiere of a vlog that will be posted tomorrow on YouTube. If you prefer, you can watch it on my YouTube channel (with ad interruptions) here.

Some weeks come dressed in sunlight and adventure. Others wrap themselves in grey skies, slow minutes, and the steady rhythm of rain. This one? It was the latter—and it was beautiful in its own quiet way.

It started with slow cooker experiments—my little project to simplify dinner and add more ease to our days. What began as curiosity turned into a full-on love affair with my pressure cooker’s slow cook mode. Each morning, with a touch of resistance, I’d gather ingredients (coffee in hand), toss them into the pot, and let the magic happen over hours. Ground beef with potatoes, seasoned chicken with brown rice, even homemade barbecue pork ribs—every meal was a cozy, tender victory.

There were lessons in every pot. Like how browning meat might make it prettier, but skipping that step keeps it easier. Or how a pinch more salt makes all the difference. And that you don’t need fancy sauces when a handful of herbs and time can build flavor that hugs you from the inside out.

Rain became a character in the background of the week. A steady, soft presence that made balcony dinners impossible and running outside unlikely. But it also slowed down our pace, invited reflection, and gave me space to notice things—like how lovely the scent of a simmering stew can be when the world outside feels cold and still.

Inside, we stayed warm. Outside, I built our little garden slowly—watering seedlings, repotting plants when the new containers arrived, dreaming of tomatoes and stevia to come. I found joy in Dollar Tree garden lights and the tiny thrill of budget-friendly finds. My protein popsicles got new flavors, my husband gave thumbs-up to every meal, and we ended the week like we always love to—with a trip to the soccer stadium, even if Toronto FC lost again.

And yes, there was a moment—sitting at the window, watching the same clouds pass for the fifth day in a row—when I wondered, “Did I really live this week?” But the answer is yes. Because living doesn’t always look like adventures or productivity. Sometimes, it looks like repetition, like quiet rituals, like nurturing your home and your body with intention. Sometimes, it’s not the sunshine that shows us we’re alive—it’s the care we bring into the grey.

Time never pauses. It’s up to us to fill it with presence, with gentleness, with tiny choices that honor where we are.

So if you’ve had a slow week, a rainy one, an ordinary one—don’t doubt for a second that it mattered.

What’s one small thing you did this week that brought you peace or pleasure?