Finding Direction in Detours

The scenic route makes for the best stories

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  • The Diet Apps Failed Me (But My Mom Didn’t)


    Just like many of you I´ve been trying to lose weight for years…since I pushed out my last baby! Let’s just start with the truth: I’ve tried all the diet apps and diet types. Weight Watchers, Noom, MyFitnessPal, Kure, intermittent fasting, keto, carb cycling, moon-phase eating—you name it, I’ve logged it, tracked it, and eventually ghosted it. And let me be clear: they failed me. I followed the rules (mostly), I counted the points, I scanned the barcodes, I even tried to convince myself that cauliflower rice was “just as good.” Lies.
    Each app promised transformation. Each one gave me colorful graphs, motivational quotes, and the occasional guilt trip disguised as a “gentle reminder.” But none of them addressed the real issue: I eat like I’m preparing for winter hibernation. My portions are epic. I don’t snack—I feast. And no app ever popped out of my phone and said, “Girl, that’s enough!”
    Then one day, scrolling through Instagram between bites of something I definitely didn’t log, I saw an ad for Nourish. It claimed they could get your insurance to cover virtual appointments with a real nutritionist. I laughed. I’d tried that route before—insurance always said no. But it was risk-free, so I clicked. And somehow, miraculously, they got my insurance to say yes.
    Now I meet virtually with a real, live nutritionist. Not a chatbot. Not a calorie calculator. A human who listens, teaches, and doesn’t judge me when I admit I eat dinner like it’s my last meal on Earth. I’m learning about portion sizing, the plate method, and even drinking water during meals to feel fuller (who knew?). And yes, my mom was right all along: “All you have to do is close your mouth.” Turns out, she was onto something. I just needed a nutritionist to say it with diagrams and science.
    So here I am, still learning, still eating—but now with a little more strategy and a lot less denial. The diet apps may have failed me, but Nourish—and my mom—might just be my comeback team.

    I´ll keep you posted on my weight loss, but in the meantime, I will share with you…

    Top 5 Things My Nutritionist Said That Blew My Mind (and Shrunk My Plate)

    So I’ve officially entered my nutritionist era, thanks to Nourish and their magical ability to get my insurance to say “yes” for once. I meet virtually with a real human – no avatars, no calorie-counting robots – and she’s teaching me things that should be obvious but somehow feel revolutionary. Here are the top five gems that made me blink twice and say, “Wait… seriously?”

    1. Your Plate Shouldn’t Look Like a Buffet

    Apparently, portion control is a thing. Who knew? I used to build meals like I was feeding a medieval army. Now I’m learning the plate method: half veggies, a quarter protein, a quarter carbs. It’s simple, visual, and slightly heartbreaking when you realize your “normal” serving of pasta could feed a small village.

    2. Water Is Not Just for Thirst—It’s for Fullness

    Drinking water during meals helps you feel full faster. I used to think sipping water while eating was just for fancy people at brunch. Turns out, it’s science. Hydration helps digestion and keeps you from going back for thirds. (Yes, thirds. Don’t judge me.)

    3. You’re Not Hungry—You’re Just Bored, Tired, or Procrastinating

    This one hit hard. My nutritionist gently pointed out that I often eat to avoid doing things I don’t want to do. Like emails. Or folding laundry. Or facing my feelings. Apparently, food isn’t therapy. Who knew?

    4. Snacks Are Not the Enemy—But They Need Boundaries

    I’ve been taught to treat snacks like tiny meals, not chaotic grazing sessions. A handful of nuts? Great. A handful every 20 minutes until dinner? Not so much. My snack game is evolving.

    5. Mom Was Right: Just Close Your Mouth

    This one’s a classic. My mom used to say, “If you want to lose weight, just close your mouth.” I rolled my eyes for years. But now, with portion sizing and mindful eating, I realize she wasn’t wrong—she was just ahead of her time. Sorry, Mom.

  • Steel-Toed Boots, Secrets, and Snacks: My Life in a Man Cave

    When I first took the HR role at a manufacturing company with an all-male employee base, I thought, “Finally-no drama.” I had spent years in female-dominated departments where the gossip could power a small village, and the passive-aggressive emails deserved their own awards show. I figured men would be simpler. Less emotional. More direct. Oh, sweet naïve Brigitte.

    Turns out, men are just as dramatic, they just come with different packaging. Instead of side-eyes and whispered hallway chats, I got locker room confessions, toolbelt tantrums, and the occasional forklift sulk. Within weeks, I wasn’t just the HR manager, I was the unofficial therapist, referee, and snack pimp.

    Yes, snack pimp. Because nothing soothes a bruised ego or a welding-induced meltdown like a sleeve of Chips Ahoy or a bag of spicy chips. I started keeping a stash in the kitchen, because we all know how hard it is to work with “hangry” employees.

    At first, they were super shy. Like middle schoolers at a dance, hovering near the punch bowl, avoiding eye contact, pretending they didn’t need anything. Even though I invited them all to come to my office and share the growing pains they’d endured before HR existed (aka before I showed up), they were wary. Suspicious. Like I was the new sheriff in town, and they were all one coffee break away from being fired.

    Rumors flew faster than forklift gossip: I was here to set rules and ruin fun. Management had hired me because they thought the guys needed a psychologist. One even told me, “We thought you’d last two weeks, tops.” Charming.

    But slowly, they started coming around. It began with casual hallway nods, then cautious knocks on my office door. They’d peek in, eyes hopeful, and ask, “Can I talk to you about something…?” And just like that, I became the workplace confessional. One guy needed help navigating a performance issue. Another just wanted to vent about his coworker’s loud chewing. One came in for a snack and stayed for a soul-searching chat about his career path.

    Now, they pop in like it’s a neighborhood bodega. They ask for crackers, advice, and occasionally, life coaching. I’ve become their counselor, their snack pimp, and their unofficial HR mom. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

    Turns out, when you give people space to be heard (and feed them), they show up. Not just with complaints, but with ideas, gratitude, and the kind of trust that makes the job worth doing. So yes, I came in as the “rule lady,” but I stayed as the one who listens, laughs, and always has peanut butter crackers on hand.

    But here’s the thing: I love it. I love the honesty, the weirdness, the way they trust me with their stories and their snack preferences. I’ve become part of the ecosystem – equal parts HR, counselor, and vending machine. And while I still chuckle at my old assumptions, I now know that drama doesn’t wear heels – it wears steel-toed boots and smells faintly of polybond.

  • My Little Backyard hustle

    I never set out to become a fruit vendor, but life has a funny way of turning quiet corners into unexpected opportunities. Last year we moved into a new house with a BEAUTIFUL garden. The former owner had planted and grown pawpaw trees in my yard. When I met him, he told me about the fruit from these trees, pawpaws, their creamy texture, tropical flavor, and native roots in the eastern U.S. He even had my try one and it was SOOO yummy: a mis of banana and mango, with the texture of an avocado. Fast forward to now, and those trees have become a small but mighty side hustle.

    I´ve learned that pawpaws aren’t your average grocery store fruit. They’re exclusive, delicate, and ripen quickly, too quickly, for mass distribution. But that’s exactly what makes them special. When my trees started producing more fruit than my family could eat, I realized I had something valuable. I posted a listing on Facebook Marketplaces (love this site you will hear about it A LOT!), and the response was immediate: people were thrilled to find fresh pawpaws nearby.

    I sold them by the unit, and had customers pre-paying with VEMNO, to have me reserve them pawpaws. Selling pawpaws turned out to be more than a seasonal side hustle, it became a doorway into a fascinating community of curious eaters, hopeful growers, and seasoned farmers. I met local farmers whose own pawpaw trees hadn’t fruited yet, and they were eager to compare notes or buy ripe ones just to see what their trees might one day produce. Others came looking for seeds, determined to start their own backyard grove after tasting the fruit for the first time. Some had only heard whispers of this mysterious “banana-meets-mango” native fruit and wanted to experience it for themselves.

    Through these exchanges, I learned so much, not just about the fruit, but about the people drawn to it. I discovered that pawpaw seeds need stratification (a cold period) before planting, and that they don’t transplant easily, so patience and planning are key. I also learned that there are several distinct varieties, each with its own flavor profile and growth habit: Sunflower, Shenandoah, Susquehanna, Allegheny, and Overleese are among the most popular cultivars. Each has its own fan base, and I found myself deep in conversations about texture, sweetness, and tree hardiness. What started as a backyard experiment became a mini crash course in native horticulture and community connection.

    The extra income helped cover a well deserved dinner date with my hubby. But more than that, it reminded me that resourcefulness is a muscle I’ve trained well. Whether it’s consulting, hosting, or harvesting fruit, I’ve learned to spot opportunity in the everyday.

    So yes, I made some extra cash with my pawpaw trees. But I also made memories, built community, and leaned into the kind of learning that happens when you say yes to nature’s surprises. And that, to me, is the real fruit of the labor.

  • Welcome to My World: Lemon Juice, Life Detours, and the Art of Juggling

    Hi World!

    I’m Brigitte, and this is the beginning of something new. After years of hearing “How do you do it all?” from friends, colleagues, students, and even strangers, I’ve decided to start writing it down. Not just the polished outcomes, but the messy middle; the detours, the pivots, the late-night problem-solving sessions, and the quiet victories that come from making lemon juice out of life’s lemons.

    I wear many hats: HR consultant, adult educator, host mom, graduate student, travel planner, and soon-to-be expat. My days are a blend of spreadsheets, counseling, problem solving, HR meetings, “ubering” kids to sports, family dinners, cultural exchanges and graduate homework. It’s not always graceful, but it’s always intentional. I’ve learned to organize chaos, to adapt quickly, and to find meaning in the unexpected.

    This blog is my way of sharing the behind-the-scenes. The systems I build to stay sane. The questions I ask when things fall apart. The ways I learn, formally and informally, from every curveball life throws. I believe learning doesn’t just happen in classrooms; it happens in kitchens, airports, client meetings, and quiet moments of reflection (at night when I can´t sleep…darn menopause hormones!). It happens when we choose to grow instead of retreat.

    So if you’re someone who’s juggling too much, dreaming big, or simply trying to make sense of your own detours, welcome. I’ll be writing about what I have learned works, what doesn’t, and what I’m still figuring out. I’ll share tools, stories, and maybe a few recipes for resilience.

    Because life doesn’t come with a manual, but it does come with lemons and curve balls! And I’ve gotten pretty good at turning those into something positive.