Life Updates, Memorial Day Reflections, and What's Next

ICYMI: Originally published May 24th on Substack. Subscribe here for the newest releases.

Back in LA—and Back to Myself

We were back in LA last week. As usual, it was jam-packed—errands, meetings, missed connections. I barely got to see anyone. But for once, I didn’t spiral about it. Instead, I let people know:

Next time, we’ll be back for good. Home, baby.

I’ve been hesitant to say this, but I think I’m finally in a good place. A real good place—not the performative “we’re fine” you say while holding back tears. I have receipts that I’m not just imagining it, my friend Jessica sent me this after we spent the afternoon at the driving range (I know, who am I, but it sounds so grown up).

When your friends notice your glow-up before you do. Honestly, I’ll take the external validation.

Said driving range date was with two of my oldest LA friends, Jessica and Audrina (her stage name for this newsletter—a trend I’ll continue for any friends who want one). She’s a pretty brunette, and since our coming-of-age years fell right after The Hills ended, the name Audrina felt so right. We all lived in shoebox West Hollywood apartments back in the early 2010s—basically Melrose Place, but with more Zara and less rent control.

Back when rent was $1200 and our biggest stress was whether to Uber or just walk in heels.

Came more to see my girls, and catch up but hit a few balls. But something about your mid-thirties makes you crave real hobbies. I’m declaring tennis my official comeback sport—I played in middle school, and I think I’m ready to lean in. I bought all the outfits during the Aloversary (Alo, forever on my “Nice List”), seriously—that is the key for me, get me excited on the fits and I’ll do whatever activity requires wearing it.

The Shift That Changed Everything

The real turning point? Signing with our architect and locking in a lease back in LA. It was like my nervous system finally exhaled. We’re doing it. The rebuild is happening. We’re moving forward—back to the Palisades.

And then the grant came through.

We were planning on public TK—that was always the plan. One of the big reasons we bought our house in the Palisades was for the schools. And we’re still committed to going public when the time is right for our family. I know our neighborhood elementary will come back even stronger—but when it burned down, it threw everything up in the air.

Suddenly I found myself asking:

How many families are staying enrolled? What does my commute look like now with two drop-offs and pick-ups? Did I already miss the permit window? And will our rental options shrink now that I have to factor in school districts?

It was a logistical and emotional overload. And then the Jewish Federation of LA came through. So when they stepped in with a grant—no guilt, no chaos, just support—it felt like someone turned the volume down on the mental spiral. It was the first real ease we’d felt in months.

We couldn’t have said yes to private TK without it. That grant made the decision possible—plain and simple. And I’ll be honest: I know enrolling Leo in private is just kicking the can down the road. But right now, I need any break I can get. Even one year of breathing room feels like a gift.

Thank you, Jewish Federation of LA—for giving us a yes when everything felt like no. Leo’s smile says it all.

Thank you, truly. When we’re in a place to give back, we will.

And if you work in nonprofit or community support—this is the blueprint. Real help, real impact. This is how families come back.

Looking Ahead: Summer in Sun Valley

Next stop: Sun Valley. My sanctuary.

We got married in Sun Valley in 2018. I didn’t know then how much I’d need this place one day. It’s become our sanctuary, our reset, and our steady when life feels anything but.

We got married there in 2018, and it’s slowly becoming our second home in my heart (or, at the moment, our only one).

To be clear, it’s not our house—if it were, I imagine this whole rebuild chapter would feel a lot more… stable. Like, if we had a place to live year-round, I think we’d be approaching this process with a lot more flexibility, both financially and timeline-wise.

I’m not exactly an outdoorsy girl, but something about Sun Valley just works.

There’s no pressure to dress up. No schedule. No chaos.

Just clean air, mountain views, and that feeling of being off the grid—but in a way that still allows for iced coffee and WiFi.

With kids, it’s heaven. Last summer we stayed three weeks while remodeling our kitchen (RIP—I still mourn that kitchen). Summer camps in Idaho are incredible. Leo didn’t watch TV for two and a half weeks. I told him the Governor of Idaho banned screens and he believed me. We finally gave in the last final days of our trip camp ended, but I stand by no-screen win.

This summer, I’m hoping to write more. I’ve been running on fumes—between Passover, spring break, and three LA trips in six weeks. I love my in-laws (truly—I know I’m relatively lucky in that department), but I’m craving my own space. And I know they are too. I think I broke my father-in-law’s heart this morning when I took a bite out of one of his Model Bakery English muffins.

Sun Valley gives me that space. That breath. That reset.

Where We’re At: Rebuild + Real Talk

We’re officially in schematics now (which, let’s be honest, is also just a really fun word to say). Our lot’s been cleared for six weeks, and we finally have momentum. It’s exciting—and yes, from the outside, it might look like we’re just lucky to be building our dream house. But fire rebuilds are layered. Complex. Emotionally loaded. And I don’t think that part gets talked about enough.

Not my architect... but the vibes are close. Coming soon: The Final Rose 🌹: How I Picked My Architect. Photo by Daniel McCullough on Unsplash

That said, I have to remind myself: this is still a very long road.

Yes, designing a house I never thought I’d get to build is incredible. But there are so many behind-the-scenes challenges people don’t see. I know it sounds dramatic, but the thoughts that keep me up at night are real:

Will tariffs spike and double our material costs? Will they actually follow through on undergrounding the power lines? Tariffs… should I be buying a TV now for our July lease? Are labor costs going to explode with immigration policy shifts?

Oh—and did I ever follow up on that survey our architect needed yesterday? (No. No, I did not.)

Even with all that… I feel steady.

For the first time in a long time, I’m not just surviving. I’m rebuilding.

It’s not linear. It’s not glamorous. But it’s real. And it’s mine.

This is what we’re rebuilding for. The heart behind the story.