Alli Hoff Kosik

It should no longer come as a surprise when I see them — the stacks of crinkly plastic-wrapped miniature fruit pies and chocolate pastries, all stamped with a blue logo, piled in a wire rack at pretty much any gas station or convenience store along the Northeast roads on which I grew up driving. I spent my childhood in Pennsylvania and now live in New York, so I have more than a quarter-century’s experience with these stores and their typical merchandise.

My mom was the Queen of Birthday Parties. I’m not sure it was ever her intention to secure that title but, as an innately creative and exceptionally loving person, her natural inclination is to honor each of life’s occasions with the flair and fanfare it deserves — sometimes even more than it deserves.

As you may have guessed, shopping solo is faster, cheaper and all together more efficient. But is it better?

Maybe it's time we all stop making excuses about why we can't have a mindfulness or meditation practice.

When I moved to New York City six years ago, I was too cheap (actually, let’s call it thrifty) to buy a subway pass. Instead, I walked 45 minutes every morning from my apartment on the Lower East Side to my midtown office building, and another 45 minutes back at the end of the workday. I learned during this period that the commute home was the perfect time for making phone calls.

For me and my friends, booze is the housewarming gift that gives (and gives). The best people to stock your bar are the people who you invite to share your happiness.

One of my favorite artifacts of my early relationship with my now-husband is a Facebook post he left me in February of 2008. It was the spring of our senior year in high school. He was an 18-year-old, Birkenstock-wearing, slightly overconfident soccer player who had probably spoken a grand total of 22 words to me in the five years we had been going to school together. Thanks again for the cupcakes. They were honestly the best.