I was bloated. My jeans were feeling particularly tight and digging into me. I saw a photograph of myself smothering Rigby with a big hug and thought my arms looked disproportionately large against my body.

Over many years of being a woman, and as a woman who has recovered many years ago from an eating disorder, I have gotten pretty good at shaking off those kinds of negative feelings, but for whatever reason I couldn’t shake it.

I started to complain to James.

“I think I’m gaining weight…” I sulked.

I looked to him for reassurance.

But it didn’t come.

“I haven’t noticed a thing but it’s normal to gain weight as you strength train more, you’re literally gaining muscle. They’re called gains, for a reason.”

“Okay but I just feel…not skinny,” I retorted.

“So?”

I felt dejected. Was my husband really not going to reassure me and tell me that I am in fact “skinny”…

“I am not going to call you skinny, Alison”.

There it was. Indeed, he would not.

Ugh.

“That’s not the goal. It never should be. You are strong. You are beautiful. You have been working out and making so much progress — doing amazing things you couldn’t do or even dream of six months or a year ago. It’s really cool. Your body may change but you’ll always be beautiful. Skinny isn’t the goal.”

Oh.

I continued to sulk but had a feeling he was right.

On my bike on my way to work, away from the glow of my iphone which harbors a never-ending feed of pictures and videos with conflicting messages and ever changing standards of beauty and bodies, I thought about what he said.

Why is the goal for so many women to hear the words “you’re skinny?” To take up the smallest amount of space in the world with clothes that have the smallest possible number in the interior tag?

Why had I fallen victim to this thinking even after everything my body has been through?

Why couldn’t I focus on the fact that I can bike to work, do push-ups without the assistance of my knees, that I can lift over 150lbs at one time and I can go on runs without knee pain… not to mention all the ways my healthy body allows me to live my life to the fullest.

To travel…to hug my family and friends, to swim, and even, to write.

None of that has anything to do with being “skinny”.

Instead of being skinny, I want to be full.

Full of love.

Full of ambition.

Full of laughter.

And creativity, and wonder and progress and honesty.

Full on the idea that the most interesting thing about me will never be anything to do with what I look like or what category me or my jeans fit into.

So while I typically like to take credit for this kind of growth, thank you James.

You’re quite beautiful, too.

Alison

Sometimes people ask me if I really am positive all of the time. And the answer is no, of course not. Not only do I have a deep understanding for the very challenging life events that I and so many others have walked through, but I am also a human being who stubs her toe and then gets locked out and then is late for work and flustered and so on and so on.

And this week, I’m not going to lie, my week was week-ing. It wasn’t particularly terrible, truly, I’m fine. I have reflected recently on the fact that more and more often, I feel a sense of contentment and yet forward movement in my life which is a really solid feeling. It’s a far cry from the state of anxiety I lived in last year.

But pair a few heavy stories at work, a dog with an ear infection keeping me up all night for a few nights and many glances at the clock and calendar, checking that - yes it is in fact Thursday, and yes there is in fact another day to get through and another few hours of work, got to me.

So I rolled my eyes at myself when I sat down to write this post which I had already decided would be in the spirit of sharing a delightful glimmer.

But here we go…

James and I decided to see Mumford and Sons at Taylor Swift’s wedding venue cough “Madison Square Garden”, fairly last minute with some of our best friends. We had great seats on the one hundred level which gave us not only a nice view of the stage, but just above the floor crowd too.

It was such a great night.

As I’ve spoken about before, I love that feeling of *collective effervescence* that a concert provides. Thousands of people sharing in the talent and musical genius of one band or performance while applying their own meaning, heart and story to each song — together.

Within the very first song, I noticed a woman who had floor tickets cutting a rug like she was alone in her living room. She seemed to be staying purposely behind and away from the squeeze of the crowd so she could fully express herself — marching, running, hair flipping, spinning in circles, raising her hands in the air.

She looked so free.

I remarked to James “Wow, check out that girl down there, she is having the time of her life!”

She was truly a joy to watch and I proceeded to steal glances at her moves the whole night.

I took a few videos of her from above and hoped I wasn’t crossing any boundaries, but we were in a very public place after all and she was nearly completely indistinguishable.

I posted the video complimenting her spirit online as I do so many of my experiences, and within a few hours it took off.

What made the reaction so special was that the comments weren’t just from randoms on the internet… they were from people who were actually at the same concert and who also noticed this exact dancing woman. Hundreds of them rolled in.

“I was watching her all night too! She was so joyful!”

“She made our night!”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of her — she was having the best time!”

And, “I saw her! I wish I had the confidence to dance like that in public!”

I got hundreds of comments from people from all around the arena — from the nose bleeds to the floor saying the same thing; her dancing and joy was infectious. It made them love the concert even more.

Isn’t that incredible? One woman letting her guard down and being so full of joie de vivre impacted so many strangers?

Within a few days of all of this, the dancing woman’s sister saw the video and identified her, Melanie. And Melanie reached out.

Thankfully, she loved the video and all of the comments. She got so much support. She shared how many friends and strangers alike were reaching out to her sharing how her dancing made them feel. Her friends told me this video was perfectly representative of her personality.

She sounds like an amazing person to know, and for that concert, thousands of people who were there for Mumford did get to know her in a way. Without having any idea what she was doing, she taught so many of us something, and she showed us what it actually means to dance like no one is watching, even though thousands of people it turns out, were watching.

When I was in my first year of university, I met a wonderful group of girls who became my close friends before I transferred schools. On one of our first nights out together, dancing in downtown Ottawa, I was being a bit timid and stiff. I was self-conscious about my dance moves and the fact I didn’t know the indie/hipster music they were throwing their bodies gracefully around to. So, they told me to close my eyes.

“Just close your eyes, feel the music and let go, Alison”.

It turns out that’s exactly what I needed to hear. It was a wonderful feeling — I had so much more fun.

And then last week, Melanie reminded me of all of this.

On Saturday night, with a few hilarious girlfriends, I danced on a New York City rooftop, and it was an absolute blast.

So the next time you’re at a concert or merely in sweatpants with friends, maybe channel a little Melanie.

That’s my glimmer from the week and you know what? I’m in a much better mood now.

Love, Alison

P.S. Typos are the worst. Please forgive me if you spot one on my Substack, and never hesitate to gently tell me — I can edit a post after it has been posted. Unfortunately Instagram videos are un-editable once you have posted them and that is the bane of my existence as someone who produces all of my own work independently (and without the use of AI). Thank you for reading, love you, BYE!

What do I mean when I say “Happy Pizza Friday”?

Do I really eat pizza every. single. Friday?

Yes. 99% of the time.

If we’re traveling on a Friday, we will move it to Thursday or Saturday, but thats the exception, not the rule. We even have Pizza Friday in foreign countries.

This has been a practice between James and I for many years but we really started taking it seriously during the early days of the pandemic and have stuck to it religiously ever since.

In fact, a new friend asked if I could get together on Friday night and while I agreed to meet up after work, I had to tell her that I must be home by 7ish as I am intensely dedicated to something called Pizza Friday and it is essential to my well being and happiness.

She had questions. So I’ll answer them here.

In early 2020, making it to Friday and celebrating with pizza was a way to mark the end of another week through an otherwise very difficult time through lockdowns, through grief, through homesickness and stress — we had a special night, weekly that we could put our worries aside and try to focus on the simple and joyful task of eating pizza together.

For us, Pizza Friday is ceremonial. It’s not just about ordering Domino’s and shoveling it back while standing at the kitchen counter and then moving on with our night. No offense to Dom’s which is delicious but we generally take advantage of having access to some of the best pizzeria’s in the world, right here in New York City.

But it’s about so much more than the pizza. It’s about home.

And it’s about intentionally appreciating the little moments that make me feel so happy in my home and with the little life and family I have created.

And to fully appreciate it, the mood must be created to be enjoyed.

Candles are mandatory.

A good bottle of red wine is chosen at our local shop around the corner from our apartment while walking Rigby (he drags us there as he gets a treat each time)

We catch up on the couch about our week with a playlist of feel good folk and jazz playing while we wait for the delivery.

We research and pick a movie with as much dedication as two millennials who remember standing in the aisle of Blockbuster.

The pizza arrives and we toss it in the oven under broil to make sure it’s as hot and crispy as possible and I get into my pajamas.

Rigby is excited and yet trying to sit perfectly because the smell of pizza means he gets his weekly bone.

We settle in. We toast each other and say “Happy Pizza Friday”. We press play on the film.

We are asleep by ten pm.

It may sound simple but it is everything to me. It represents being so comfortable in my home and my relationship that the simplest night can bring me such joy and peace. The rituals associated with Pizza Friday from the candles to the music to the wine reminds me that romanticizing the simplest routines in life provide the greatest reward. The fact that I can delight in something so wonderful in my own home is something I’m thankful for.

I used to be a person who suffered from terrible FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and Pizza Friday has been the ultimate cure for that. I delight in not wondering where the cool parties or bars or people are gathering. Home is where it’s at.

I describe myself as an extroverted introvert. I love people and I have a job that requires me to be surrounded by them and lead a lot of conversations. But I also need to recharge.

So knowing that at the end of the week, I can take off my work makeup and let myself look inward and be completely at ease without worrying about the follow up question, memorizing a script or the way I’m presenting myself is essential for me to regroup.

Through the pandemic, through wedding planning, through multiple surgeries and cancer, through career and personal wins and challenges, we have our Pizza Friday.

Pizza Friday means stability and consistency through an ever changing life and world. No matter what’s going on outside, we have our cocoon of warmth and crispy cheese, inside.

So without further adieu, Happy Pizza Friday to you and yours.

Love and glimmers,

Alison

If you’re new here:

I’m Alison, I am a survivor of sorts in my thirties living in New York City. For all of my professional life, I have dedicated myself to telling other people’s stories and recently, I have started to find a way through telling my own. Between Headlines is about all the moments in between the big stuff, whether a big day at work, or a big life event (#cancer), the questions, the routines, the meaning and often, the love. I eat pizza every Friday, I’m obsessed with my dog, and I value my time, my health, and my friends and family. I’m so glad you’re here so we can figure out this little thing we call life, together.

Sometimes ideas for this Substack fall into my lap, or in the case of this week, dance.

I had a story assignment this week which involved going to a popular line dancing class at a bar in Brooklyn.

As more and more people realize in-person activities are more rewarding than sitting inside on their phones, activities like line dancing are making a big comeback.

I am not a great dancer, but I am enthusiastic. I love to dance but I can’t follow choreography for the life of me, and some have argued, I don’t follow the beat all that well either (ha!). For those reasons, my bosses often send me on assignments that involve dancing.

Now I have a secret to confess about my work and how I approach it.

I am not always thrilled to show up somewhere where I don’t know anyone and be tasked with the job of making television, AKA marching up to strangers and introducing myself, interviewing them, and generally just being thrown into something new.

And that’s basically my job description.

AND, all of those things are exactly what I love about my job.

Therefore, I often have to give myself a pep talk on my way to a shoot. I may even come up with all the reasons it won’t go well or that it doesn’t make sense.

So I remind myself that I thrive in new experiences, that I love meeting people, and that everything will be okay.

And 99% of the time, I am pleasantly surprised and reassured.

Make no mistake, I was terrible at line dancing. But I absolutely loved being a part of the line, and stepping back to work with my camera guy on the shots I was able to appreciate the expert-level dancers who were totally lost in the music and the moves being done in unison.

I marveled at how free they looked, how even in a room of people, they were allowing themselves to fully give in to the dancing. It’s worth noting, this was on a weeknight at 6pm — there weren’t many drinks involved. In fact, no drinking was allowed on the dance floor at all. The confidence I saw in these dancers came from within.

I also appreciated how many beginners were there, giving it there all, trying to follow along without shame when they misstepped — which they often did (girl, same).

Interviewing some of the participants in the bar, something one young woman said struck me instantly.

She told me that she had been coming weekly for the last two years and I said, “what makes you come back week after week?”

“The people here are just so confident, I love being around them and I hope that I can absorb some of it. Maybe it will rub off on me.”

Isn’t that something?

How many times do we let others confidence and expertise intimidate us rather than desire to absorb and borrow from it?

How often have I tried something, realized I’m not very good at it, (because I’m a beginner) and then never tried again? (Hello, dancing with choreography)

Learning doesn’t happen in isolation.

Confidence doesn’t happen in isolation.

Just as I give myself a pep talk before some TV shoots — showing up, even when you’re not perfectly ready, even when you’re a beginner, even when you feel like the least confident one in the room is how you grow.

If you can just get your ego out of the way.

This young woman reminded me of that — there’s no shame in showing up as one of the less confident people in the room, and hoping to learn a step or two.

And as I learn every single time I go into a situation that I’m not perfectly comfortable in, growing gives me so much.

Have I convinced you to try line-dancing yet? Are there classes or activities or places that intimidate you that you strive to show up for anyway?

With love, glimmers and a misstep or two,

Alison

P.S. I’ll be taking these lessons into my work today as I’m hosting Inside Edition Weekend again this weekend!

If you’re new here:

I’m Alison, I am a survivor of sorts in my thirties living in New York City. For all of my professional life, I have dedicated myself to telling other people’s stories and recently, I have started to find a way through telling my own. Between Headlines is about all the moments in between the big stuff, whether a big day at work, or a big life event (#cancer), the questions, the routines, the meaning and often, the love. I eat pizza every Friday, I’m obsessed with my dog, and I value my time, my health, and my friends and family. I’m so glad you’re here so we can figure out this little thing we call life, together.

For my new readers, I’m Alison (for old friends, keep scrolling!) I am a survivor of sorts in my thirties living in New York City. For all of my professional life, I have dedicated myself to telling other people’s stories and recently, I have started to find a way through telling my own. Between Headlines is about all the moments in between the big stuff, whether a big day at work, or a big life event (#cancer), the questions, the routines, the meaning and often, the love. I eat pizza every Friday, I’m obsessed with my dog, and I value my time, my health, and my friends and family. I’m so glad you’re here so we can figure out this little thing we call life, together.

Good things take time. This is what I remind myself.

It’s what I remind myself when I am reading page 40 of a 656 page book.

It’s what I remind myself as I sludge through writing the messy first draft of my own book.

It’s what I remind myself as I struggle to finish a two mile run when I used to be able to run 26.2 (okay not easily, but 5-7 miles was pretty easy back in the day for this former long distance runner)

And it’s what I remind myself as I reflect on my big week last week — it took me 13 years to step in as a national news anchor on primetime television. I’m proud of myself— but I was also far from perfect. Accepting that takes humility, and as I celebrated how far I’ve come, it can feel a little daunting to feel like you’ve reached top of the mountain and then look out and realize, you have many more mountains to climb.

From writing a book, to running, to reaching for career goals, to creating the life you want, heck, to raising children (not there yet but I’ve heard ha), good things take time and a lot of work — then throw in a lot of patience, determination and committing to the daily practices that contribute to all you’re doing.

For someone like me, the patience part is the hardest to swallow.

The book I am reading currently is The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett. I recently listened to the Oprah podcast interview with Kathryn and found myself inspired throughout. I instantly bought her book and then was chuffed to hear that my Mom and sister were already reading it!

I loved the Oprah interview with Kathryn — it’s a fascinating conversation with this extremely patient and determined writer. After her bestseller, The Help was a worldwide success and ignited worldwide controversy, it took Stockett 17 years to publish her next book.

She wrote the The Calamity Club every single day for over a decade.

Every single day. Over a decade?!

Here I am writing my book for the last 6 months thinking “when will I be done?”

I admire her dedication and commitment to this story, and to herself as a storyteller, a writer, and as a determined and resilient person.

I am about 80% done my messy first draft and then will be staring down many rounds of rewrites and edits and feedback and eventual querying and rejections and more feedback and more rejections and perhaps if I’m lucky an agent acceptance and then perhaps a publishing offer. But guess what, The Help which was an international bestseller, optioned to be a movie and won an Oscar was rejected 47 times. FORTY SEVEN TIMES. So, maybe my book will end up on Substack. Stay tuned! But bottom line, it will take awhile.

But some of the most meaningful, worthwhile adventures take time, and I know I’m not alone with that.

You don’t just wake up one day and have the life you want, you have to say yes to all the moments of hard work along the way, and most importantly, you have to say yes to yourself.

Yes to the big opportunity. Yes to the life change. Yes to the adventure. But then also yes, to putting in the work — daily (or almost daily).

Sometimes life doesn’t turn out exactly how we hoped, sometimes it’s even better.

And so much of that comes down to the choices we make along the way, and all the hard work that comes with those choices.

I’d love to hear from you — is there something that you committed to that took longer (and perhaps more work) than you hoped but turned out to be worth it?

I know I can already think of a few things from a few of you who I know personally!

Love and glimmers,

Alison

P.S. Next week, I really will be taking time off from this newsletter. We’re heading home to Canada to see my family and I love going off the grid and locking completely into presence and togetherness when I’m there. Have a beautiful week and see you in two!

**Stands on apple box** I have a very important announcement!

Today, I am anchoring Inside Edition for the very first time.

“But wait —Alison, didn’t you just anchor last week?

Yes, I did. The Inside Edition Weekend show. A really big deal, but an even bigger deal is our weekday show that airs at 7pm after the evening news in the biggest cities in the country (and throughout the continent, and on social media!)

This is not a moment I take lightly — this rarely, rarely happens.

But today, that’s exactly what I’m doing, I’m filling in for our anchor — the incredible, formidable, warm and kind host of our show, Eva Pilgrim.

I have some really big shoes to fill.

I know I said I would be skipping the Substack newsletter today while I unplugged on vacation with James but what’s that phrase — “when you make plans, the big man upstairs, laughs?”

Something like that. This opportunity came up last minute and I knew I had to take it, vacation or not.

I know I married the right person because after I said “yes” without hesitation, I hung up the phone and James was jumping up and down with tears in his eyes, even happier for me than me. He didn’t have a glimmer of disappointment that I had just agreed to cut our vacation short.

James has been with me for the last eleven years as I have persevered through this very tough industry. He knows how much an opportunity and the validation that comes with it means to me. He knows what I went through to get to this point. And I hope that this point is still just the beginning.

As I have been writing my book (and I wrote a lot by the beach this week!) I have been thinking a lot about all the Alisons I have been a long the way.

On a day like today, I can’t help but think of the Alison who left home at 17 and put herself through university, struggling seriously along the way. The one who wanted to give up so many times. The one who developed an eating disorder, the one who needed therapy. The one who had a negative bank account balance every week after paying rent and buying food — who skipped buying textbooks all together. The one whose GPA suffered and was just enough to graduate. The one who started running constantly to deal with all of her feelings. Because she knew, even if it was really hard, she had to push forward. The one who was so desperate to be a journalist in New York City who boarded an overnight bus for her first interview for an internship at ABC News, and an overnight bus after that with a hockey bag she bought at Canadian Tire to move to the city and live in an empty college dorm. The one who stepped off the bus and decided, this is my home, even if she had to babysit on the side of her full-time job for the first several years.

And it hasn’t been easy along the way. Even in the last few years, I wondered whether I would “make it” or whether I should give up. Get a job in marketing or PR.

I’m really glad I didn’t.

This all leads me to… I hope you’ll watch tonight. It would mean the world to me to have an extra friendly audience tuning in — I’ll imagine each of your faces and support as I speak to you through large robotic cameras following my every move.

If you need help finding Inside Edition, you can look up your local listings here.

For my readers in Canada, you’ll need to search “Inside Edition” on your cable TV. In some areas, we’re on mid afternoon.

I’m really excited. The best part is — I have so much fun doing this. That’s what I felt last week, I seriously said — that was so fun! What a gift to find a career that you find so very fun. So let’s do it!

“Thanks for joining us, we'll see you back here next time” (That’s me practicing for today!)

With love and glimmers,

Alison

A quick note: I am taking next week off from this newsletter as James and I are completely unplugging at a seaside cottage next week. I plan to delete social media and barely connect to the internet. James may not know it yet but I am treating it as a personal writers retreat for my book while taking multiple dips in the ocean, eating plenty of seafood, peaches and tomatoes and indulging in some local wine.

As I have been writing my memoir I have been reflecting on the many people who have had an influence on my life - beyond the obvious (parents, family, husband, Rigby), it may be a former close friend or teacher or coach. And sometimes those people are no longer regularly in my life. In some cases, for no reason other than, simply, life moves on and our paths have gone in different directions. At first, the realization that I had lost touch with each of them made me sad.

How did we lose touch? Did I not put enough effort in? Was it my fault? I thought.

The answer may be yes to the latter two questions, but I’m showing myself compassion in this regard. I think sometimes people come into your life for a season and it’s perfectly normal for your paths to diverge eventually — but you can still hold love in your heart for them, want the best for them and hope if your paths cross again, you can pick up right where you left off.

For example, my best friend from the age of 2-7, Andrea, pictured above. We were thick as thieves but when my family moved to Winnipeg, we lost touch. Just a few years ago, Andrea found me on instagram and we marveled at the fact that we were getting married on the very same day on opposite sides of the continent. While we haven’t seen each other in decades, I hold so much love for her and her family.

Just because you may not speak every day or even every year, doesn’t mean you don’t care deeply for them and remember their favorite food or song or the sound of their laugh.

But rarely, do we get to say goodbye to those friendships. The nature of drifting apart means there’s no final wave or closure, but the significance of the presence of the relationship just fades gently over time.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite quotes that I discovered in high school:

“I am a part of all that I have met.” (Alfred Loyd Tennyson)

And I always like to add on, “and… all who I have met, are part of me.”

That’s what I’m discovering as I do the difficult and rewarding work of excavating my life in memoir research — identifying and unearthing the many people who are a part of me.

In addition to taking stock of the meaningful people in my life, I’m also getting to know the many versions of me that make up one multi-faceted character in my story.

The version of me who was close with or effected by each of these people, the version of me who moved through these experiences — she is a character in each of their stories too.

But in my story, she’s (gen Z speak) the main character.

I saw a writing prompt recently that said, “write to a version of yourself that you didn’t get to say goodbye to” and it moved something in me.

I thought of all the versions of me I could say goodbye to — goodbye to childhood Alison, goodbye athlete Alison, goodbye Alison who had a dozen or so part time jobs, goodbye to model/actor Alison and goodbye to waitress Alison, goodbye to university Alison and girlfriend Alison and twenty-something Alison, goodbye to breast cancer patient Alison.

But what I’m realizing as I write them out, is that none of these goodbyes are final, because all of these versions of me carry on in a million different ways.

It’s less of a goodbye and more of a recognition.

Perhaps it’s “I see you. I remember you. Thank you”

An acknowledgment of all the parts of me that make up who I am.

And so for the many friends and influential people who have made a mark on my life too… "I see you. I remember you. Thank you”.

All of them, and all of me.

(Stop me if I sound like John Legend)

How do you think about past friendships and relationships?

Love and glimmers,

Alison

P.S. I am hosting Inside Edition Weekend, this week! Check your local listings to catch me in action!

Chat with ya in two weeks! xx

Oh, and if you’re Taylor Alison Swift — Happy Wedding Day, girl!!!!

I recognize that summer began on June 21st officially, but to me, July is where summer really kicks into high gear.

This will be a shorter note today as I take on the spirit of holidaying. At least holidaying that I am trying to fit in before working overnight on the Fourth of July! More to come on that…

A few summers ago, I got to September and thought to myself, hmmm it didn’t really feel like summer had happened, and ever since then, I have wanted to rectify that and make sure I never get to September with that feeling again.

Not in a 2026 Instagram-aesthetic summer kind of way — no big European vacation for me. I love the concept of a “90s Summer” that is floating around on Instagram, which to me represents enjoying the simple joys of the season during the long, slow, hot days drifting into long, hot nights. Enjoying all that my two homes - New York City, and Canada (huge generalization) have to offer!

In no particular order these are the summer activities on my bucket list:

• An outdoor shower (I’m not above a hose or jumping in a lake with biodegradable shampoo)

• Eating a lot of panzanella salad (my favorite combo involves peaches, basil, tomatoes, bread, and halloumi. No recipe required, throw these ingredients together with some balsamic and prepare to be very satisfied)

• Spending an entire day reading next to a body of water, only stopping to jump in said body of water or refill my drink glass or get snacks for reading.

• Spend a week with my family wearing no makeup and deleting all social media and completely losing track of my phone all together

• Play multiple rousing card games with my family

• Eat a lobster roll, multiple oysters, ice cream, gelato and froyo (there’s a pattern here!)

• Bike to a beach

• Take a ferry

• Host a barbecue

• Drink coffee at sunrise with my Dad

• Drink a glass of wine with my Mom and sister while watching the sunset

• Jump into the lake with my nieces (all five of them) and nephews (child and dog)

And so so so much more! What’s on your summer bucket list?

I hope you check off at least one or two items this weekend!

Love and glimmers,

Alison

I’ve been thinking about the importance of in-person events as I have enjoyed and reflected on a few very meaningful ones recently.

Four years ago on June 25th, on a farm less than a hundred miles north of New York City, I married the life of my life, James — not Rigby — that would be illegal.

What everyone says about weddings is true. They go by SO fast.

But there’s a few moments I remember distinctly at our wedding ceremony, in which I told myself to mentally slow down time and capture the moment in my body and mind. And it worked.

First, walking (or should I say dancing) down the aisle with my parents. My face hurt from being in a permanent smile, and there was a lot of laughter too.

Then, James and I are holding hands, standing in front of our closest family and friends from all over the world, under the shade of a ginormous tree. There’s a soft breeze. Birds are chirping. My wonderful brother-in-law, Dan, is to my right, in his tuxedo, speaking beautiful words he wrote for us as our officiant.

I am on the verge of being overwhelmed by all of it. My heart can’t possibly take in this much love and happiness.

So I take a really big, slow breath. My chest rises and falls. I blink. I look out at the sea of faces with their smiles pulled back into their ears. Rather than letting it overwhelm me and pushing it away, I let the feeling and the energy and intention of each person wash over me. And I tell myself, this is it. Remember all of this.

It’s a moment I’ll return to for the rest of my life.

There’s something magical that happens when people share big moments together.

Have you ever been to a wedding where you actually don’t know the couple?Presumably you have been brought as a date - rather than a wedding crasher, but respect if it’s the latter. In these instances - when the couple and the group is right, I get a really wonderful feeling too. I take the energy and the excitement and love in the room and between these people and I’m overcome with emotion even though I don’t even know them. I marvel at that.

Perhaps it’s collective effervescence.

“A sociological concept coined by Émile Durkheim. It describes the intense sense of energy, harmony, and unity that a group feels when gathered together for a shared purpose”

This feeling is something that AI can never ever touch or replicate, but it threatens it. As our world moves more and more digital and where zoom meetings and sitting on your couch feels more appealing than being in person (ahem guilty) I think we need to prioritize gathering together and letting each other in for these big events and moments.

Like our dear friend Pippa’s 40th birthday at the Prospect Park Soiree in Brooklyn last week. We gathered with a table of 12 that she decorated to the nines under the theme, Midsummers Night’s Dream. We met new people, we danced, we laughed and we bonded over how much we love the birthday girl and her partner.

I learned the value of in-person again recently with my writing class. For eight weeks, fourteen other people and I, met in a small conference room near Washington Square Park and shared our art with each other, and through that (not to be too trite) but we shared our hearts. It was magic.

You may remember from instagram or this very Substack, I wrote about how scared I was to embark on this class with a room full of strangers, and yet, it turned out to be one of the best things I have ever done for myself.

It has come to a close and I am very sad about it. This is the first time in my adult life that I have signed up for something and looked forward to every week and not missed a single minute of it.

Thankfully, my new writing friends and I are going to keep our community going. Because that’s what in-person events create… community.

What are some places you have found connection, community and collective effervescence?

As always, thank you for being here, diving into my art and my heart.

Love and glimmers,

Alison

P.S. I ran into someone last week who I had only met once (Hi, Daniel!) and he said, “I like your Substack!” to which I said “Ah! I forget people actually read it!” and he said, “It’s really good. It’s nice. It’s like a public journal.” Yes. Yes it is.

If you know anyone who may like a public journal, please share this substack or my Instagram with them. Maybe they’ll get a kick out of life, like I do, too.

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Share Between Headlines with Alison Hall

P.S.S. My incredible writing teacher Haley Jakobson has her next co-hort of writers starting next month! If you’re in NYC you can sign up here.

When was the last time you got out of your comfort zone?

Last week, I was invited to a trapeze class at the Circus Academy New York with a friend I made on instagram, Andrea Wightwick. You may recognize this place from a Sex and the City episode or if you’ve been on the West Side Highway and you have simply looked up and wondered if you’re hallucinating or really seeing someone fly through the air (probably the latter).

Many moons ago, (exactly ten years) I actually took a trapeze class at this very location as part of my sister’s bachelorette party, and another time a few weeks later with a group of work friends. It was fun back then! But I also remember being scared and not being able to advance to the final level (my sister, the bride did - hi Katie!)

And yet, as I walked over on the unseasonably hot evening last week, I wondered “what the **** am I doing?”

I thought about how I am only a year out from major surgery…how I am still working on gaining my strength back, especially in my chest and arms (key for trapeze) and how I still have to put effort into reaching my arms high above my head. I can do it, but I feel a stretch and a pull each time. Plus, it’s no secret that my center of gravity has changed slightly.

I also thought about how I had only met Andrea in person, once. She was lovely, but now we’d be swinging high in the sky together for two hours? What was I thinking?

It turns out the last thing I needed to worry about was spending time with Andrea. Andrea is one of those people who puts you at ease with her warmth and ability to remember small details, she tells a great story and is incredibly interesting and encouraging. She also is a near expert trapeze artist.

I admitted I was having doubts and even as I climbed the creaky metal ladder 50 feet in the air, and she cheered me on, I yelled down to her “get this on video because this will be the only time I do this!”

I told the instructor at the top of the platform, “I seemed to have developed a fear of heights on the way up, and I’m not sure I can do this,” as my legs shook with terror looking at all the New Yorkers who looked like ants several levels below (the school is on the roof of a 4th floor building above the bustling West Side Highway.)

But then I thought about how scary it would be to use the same ladder I had just ascended on the way down and decided I’d rather pathetically swing through the air, drop onto the net and then never, ever do this again.

So with the support of the kind instructor, I held onto a monkey bar and flung myself off the platform, screaming the whole way.

And when I landed onto the net safely and counted all ten fingers and toes, I decided… “hmm that wasn’t that bad. Maybe I could try that again”

For the net two hours, each time it was my turn to climb the ladder and progress in the trapeze moves, I accepted the fear but I also accepted the fun, the surprise and the feeling of impressing even myself.

By the end of the class, I was one of the only beginner level students who managed to make “the catch” with an instructor on the other side of the swing (obviously Andrea did too!). I was so proud of myself, and yes, it was so fun. My Cirque du Soleil trick captured in this video, please indulge me…

Now, this Substack isn’t serving as my announcement that I am joining the circus, but I love what this class taught me. Not just that I am stronger and more healed physically than I expected, but that in the span of just a few hours, if I allow myself to be pushed out of my comfort zone, really amazing things can happen.

Surprising myself is a really wonderful feeling.

It felt like exposure therapy.

I can fly through the air hundreds of feet above New York City, AND…

I can take a leap and it can work out.

And that is a metaphor I am willing to lean into, even if my feet will most often be firmly planted on the ground.

I am so curious what other activities can activate this sense of growth and accomplishment -- surfing is another one, my writing class is too! Do you have any ideas of activities or experiences that push you out of your comfort zone and give you that incredible feeling? I’m all ears.

Love, glimmers and leaps,

Alison

I’m not usually a person who watches a lot of sports - I actually really like most sports and played both basketball and soccer growing up but it’s just not what I choose to do with my time or allocate my funds to these days. But I grew up on the sidelines at my siblings various games and I have lept in the air and hugged the person next to me in pure excitement and triumph when your team scores or wins, quite a few times too.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that the New York Knicks are in the NBA Finals for the first time since 1999.

And the city has come alive. New York City is always a pretty special place - you know how much I love it here but everything that is unique about NYC shines even brighter when the whole city is unified cheering on one thing.

That is what sports can do for us, and I am here for it.

I have never lived in a city that is having a playoff or finals run like this in any sport, though I know my Winnipeg family has felt this excitement during playoffs with the Winnipeg Jets and the atmosphere in Toronto last year during the Jay’s run seemed absolutely incredibly (not to mention We The North which took over Canada during the Raptors NBA Championship in 2019).

Sometimes “bandwagon” fans get a bad rap, but bandwagon fans show up when it really matters, and to me, there is nothing wrong with that. There’s no shame in getting involved and letting the energy of a movement move you.

I think of the quote that my brother-in-law has on a piece of art in his office:

“I always turn to the sports section first. The sports section records people's accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man's failures.” (Justice Earl Warren, 1968)

And it’s true. With sports, there’s commitment, unity, effort, and celebration.

New Yorkers are not only taking to apartments, bars and restaurants to watch the game, they are taking to the streets. And not just sanctioned watch parties in parks — they are using projectors to turn the side of a building into massive shared TV’s so that hundreds if not thousands of people can stand or sit on the curb and share in this electric moment together. New York is an opinionated, competitive, gritty city — when was the last time we were all so unified around one thing?

Look at this group of thousands reacting to Wednesday’s miraculous win on the street (watching on a screen that is projected onto a building from the apartment fire escape on the right)

It’s positively beautiful. There’s a glimmer around every corner.

Just look at this group of kindergarteners selling homemade bracelets on Hudson Street:

How exciting would it be if they go all-the-way? Insanity and YET, not to sound like Elmo — even if they don’t, nothing can take away what this series has done for this community and this city.

The impact this type of sporting event has can be felt on a grand scale yes, but look at what it taught this little boy and so many kids just like him:

This weekend, I’ll be iron-on lettering a shirt (thank you Taylor Swift and Haim sisters for the inspo) and taking the street to experience more of this magic for myself.

Go Knicks, Go!

Love Alison

For the past week, I have been thinking about storytelling. The stories we consume, and the stories we tell ourselves. I am a storyteller - it’s part of my DNA. If you’ve ever sat around a Hall family dinner table, you know we LOVE a story, sometimes with a little bit too much context.

The stories we are exposed to have a huge impact on us. I can’t be the only person who was deeply affected by watching Oprah as a child. Oprah was one of the few places where it seemed that no topic was off limits. Oprah’s show was one of the first places that it was instilled in me that storytelling really matters and can make a huge difference in peoples lives.

Recently, like 36 million other people, I developed a massive addiction to the show Off Campus. I’m on my 3rd rewatch. I have never ever done this with a show?!

Now, how does my love of storytelling relate to what some are considering a smutty hockey romance show?

For many reasons, including a hunky lead, but mostly I am studying the expert way the show handled a very heavy topic.

The female lead character, Hannah, has a history of sexual assault. But the show is not about sexual assault. Far from it. Beautifully, the show never even depicts the assault itself which I think is crucial in centering her as a survivor and not triggering other survivors. It also shows us that we don’t need to see the assault take place in order to believe Hannah.

Instead, the show chooses to highlight Hannah’s healing. It’s about a young woman coming of age. It’s about trust, and love and learning to find safety in your own body and only once she has healed can she open herself up to another (cue the hockey romance and the sweet, gentle way her love interest handles her story). The show masterfully weaves Hannah’s story into the plot line as part of her journey but it is not the only part of her story.

As her roommate and bestie, Allie, says as Hannah reveals her painful past to her “You are not just one thing…you are everything”. And that is a line that survivors of all sorts need to hear.

“You are everything”

Being a survivor can sometimes feel like that is the biggest part of your identity, and at points, it may feel that way. But a big part of healing is moving through the world not just with the label of survivor but as you, the good, the bad, the hard and the beautiful, you.

As a journalist, I believe in storytelling with my whole heart. Even with that I was surprised to love Off Campus as much as I did — and yet I will recommend it to everyone and am so inspired by it’s success. The more stories that are told by women and are commercially successful, the more stories like this will be told.

I’ve been consuming incredible thought provoking content by women lately. Earlier this year, like every other millennial (and beyond) woman, I read Strangers by Belle Burden. It was beautifully written literary memoir and depicted the possibility that the person you are married to is actually a stranger. But through writing about her painful divorce, Belle illustrates the person she gets to know, trust and love best - herself. This type of arc is a theme that always resonates with me.

Then I read Famesick by Lena Dunham. I enjoyed listening to half of it on audiobook while on a work trip that involved me driving through Michigan for hours on end alone. Hearing it read in Lena’s distinctive voice was really enjoyable. I found myself laughing aloud on back roads while missing turns because I was distracted by her storytelling. The book is an excellent illustration of all that a body and life can hold and absorb over time, especially when you have a body that is picked apart publicly as hers has been.

Next up, my writing group friends have recommended Melissa Febos who wrote The Dry Season (among other books). I’m excited to dive in when I finish The River is Waiting by Wally Lamb (not a female but thats okay) which is my current night time read.

Is there a series or a book that struck you in it’s storytelling recently? Were you as in love with Off Campus as me? Do you have to remind yourself everyday that you are not on a college campus getting ready to cheer on the Briar U hockey team?

Until next week,

Love and glimmers.

Alison

P.S. Speaking of women and storytelling, in a few weeks I am hosting a book club discussion for Jadey with my friend about her book, Breasts. I was introduced to Jean a year ago when a mutual friend said “hey - you both had breast cancer - you should meet!” (and some other very nice things) and we did! We hit it off for many reasons but particularly because I developed a creative crush on Jean. Jean is an inspiring and witty writer observing so many parts of what it is to be a woman and yet her voice is so distinct. I’m really excited to share her work with a warm community in an lovely setting in NYC. A few tickets left here.

For my new readers, I’m Alison (for old friends, keep scrolling!) I am a survivor of sorts in my thirties living in New York City. For all of my professional life, I have dedicated myself to telling other people’s stories and recently, I have started to find a way through telling my own. Between Headlines is about all the moments in between the big stuff, whether a big day at work, or a big life event (#cancer), the questions, the routines, the meaning and often, the love. I eat pizza every Friday, I’m obsessed with my dog, and I value my time, my health, and my friends and family. I’m so glad you’re here so we can figure out this little thing we call life, together.

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Last weekend I went home to Winnipeg to mark a big transition for my parents. They have sold their home and will be moving to a beautiful and perfect-for-them condo.

This was not the home I grew up in, in fact, they moved into this house the year after I left for university. While it doesn’t have the same emotional baggage as our childhood home held, this is the place that I have returned home to for the last sixteen years.

You may recall that I was a nomad for many years, living in Ottawa, Toronto, San Francisco, New York, and of course in and out of Winnipeg for many years. I have now lived in New York for 12 years — which much to my families surprise — is officially longer than I ever lived in Winnipeg.

Being a nomad and living away from “home” for so long, meant it was such a comfort to have one place — four walls that contained the people who raised me and all of their things. The antiques, the framed photos, the cozy blankets, and of course, the people.

Calling my parents and imagining them in their place felt grounding to me. I may call them from thousands of miles away in New York City (or further on my travels!) but my Mom would almost always be in her wingback chair next to the fireplace. When I missed them, I could imagine both of them sitting in their living room or their backyard with the music playing too loudly, sipping a coffee or a glass of wine, together.

The thought of this changing was initially difficult for me. I’ll admit it. I may be 34 but I will always be the baby of the family.

Change is hard, but it’s also inevitable.

For anyone who is lucky enough to have aging (but youthful and beautiful - hi Mom!) parents you may relate to the feeling of being surprised when your parents start to change.

So, I reminded myself of all the ways my parents have allowed me to change over the years, and how interesting it must have been to watch me make decisions away from them that they may not have expected. Especially hard for them to not know the places (or dorms or 5th floor walk ups) I lived in as intimately as I know theirs. And yet, they always show up for me, they would get excited about a new city, or a new apartment, or a few years ago, the first home my husband and I bought together. They looked around at the walls when we first got possession and said “you’ll make this place beautiful!”

So, it was important for me to book a trip so I could be a part of this transition and say goodbye to the house, and tell them the same thing about their new place.

We walked around their new completely empty condo and I imagined their lives there. I also imagined their art, and their framed photos, and the table that has been passed down through our family for generations.

I thought of my nomadic life and the ways I would make each of my temporary residences feel like my own version of home by carting around a single framed photo, an antique silver tray, a small lamp and a jewelry box. Whether it was a dorm room or a sublet, my few little things followed me and held a piece of my comfort.

As I spent time in their soon-to-be old house, sitting next to the fireplace in May (Winnipeg) but with the back doors wide open… I realized, that it is not the house that makes a home, and it’s also not the stuff (though I love the stuff) — it’s the people.

I guarantee that in a few months, I’ll be calling my Mom and she’ll be in her wing back, sitting next to a slightly different fireplace, in a different place and yet, it will feel like home, because the two people who are my purest representation of it will be there — and they’ll be happy.

I still went around the house and said “goodbye room, thank you! goodbye fireplace, thank you! and especially, goodbye beautiful house, thank YOU.” But I was much less emotional than I expected to be because I realized, the people who made this place so beautiful, are still here.

So, here’s to home, in all the ways you create it, find it, and hold onto it.

With love and glimmers,

Alison

For my new readers, I’m Alison (for old friends, keep scrolling!) I am a survivor of sorts in my thirties living in New York City. ! For all of my professional life, I have dedicated my life to telling other people’s stories and recently, I have started to find a way through telling my own. Between Headlines is about all the moments in between the big stuff, whether a big day at work, or a big life event (#cancer), the questions, the routines, the meaning and often, the love. I eat pizza every Friday, I’m obsessed with my dog, and I value my time, my health, and my friends and family. I’m so glad you’re here so we can figure out this little thing we call life, together.

“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

Seriously, ask yourself that question. What. would. you. do. if. you. weren’t. afraid?

Many moons ago, an ex-boyfriend gave me a poster that said just that when I was contemplating a move across the country (from San Francisco back to New York). I was grappling with the decision as I previously wrote about here… because it would mean leaving him, and while I couldn’t fully admit it at the time, I wondered whether it would mean our relationship would end too (it did — less than a year later).

Nonetheless, “what would you do if you weren’t afraid?” echoed in my mind with his encouragement, and I took the leap. I chose myself. I chose my dreams.

While that feels like a lifetime ago, the sentiment is one I have returned to many times and as I embark on this endeavor of putting myself out there repeatedly (hello, dear reader, thanks for stopping by weekly to witness it) I remind myself, that fear isn’t always a bad thing. And I’ll probably never be in it’s absence, so I better settle in and get comfortable with it.

Hello fear, you’re welcome here too!

After last week’s writing rejections, it was either terrible or perfect timing that it was my turn to share my work in my writing class. Each week, two writers share their work and the whole class reviews and talks about it (as if the author isn’t even there!) for a whole hour, per piece of work. It is epic and terrifying. Thankfully, this class is a soft place for my work to land.

I have heard this phrase described as a way for parents to provide a safe space for children, and I can tell you that I am so grateful my parents were the soft place to land for me.

This class is filled with incredibly smart, kind, thoughtful people who gave my words the time and attention I could only dream of and encouraged me to keep going. There was no talk of process or rejection or sales or marketing, just “what does this work make you feel?” My grade nine english teacher said that was the best way to evaluate work - not good, not bad, but feeling. He would say “did it move you?”

And I am so proud that people felt things — they were moved and they even felt what I had hoped they would feel.

And that made me feel very validated. I am so so grateful.

I promise I won’t only write about my class for the next five weeks but this week felt like a big one. The universe served me up a week that said “put yourself out there and this time, it will be okay” and if I’m being honest, I needed that. It’s okay to say it. I just did and I’m grateful it was softer this time.

So while I walk alongside the fear, and know there will be more rejections in the future, I also hold out hope there will be more of the feelings I felt that night.

So once again, I ask you, what would you do if you weren’t afraid?

With bravery,

Alison

P.S. I am on my way home to Winnipeg and I can’t wait to squeeze the dozen plus people I love with all my heart! Have a great (long, if you’re in America) weekend!

P.S.S. I was recently featured on an awesome podcast, A Day In Her Life (thank you Ellie!) (listen here too) I love Ellie’s episodes covering a wide range of women who are navigating so many different versions of life. We had such a fun conversation about exactly that — what does a typical day look like for me and how do I manage the chaos and the quiet.

For my new readers, I’m Alison, I am a survivor of sorts in my thirties living in New York City. For all of my professional life, I have dedicated my life to telling other people’s stories and recently, I have started to find a way through telling my own. Between Headlines is about all the moments in between the big stuff, whether a big day at work, or a big life event (#cancer), the questions, the routines, the meaning and often, the love. I eat pizza every Friday, I’m obsessed with my dog, and I value my time, my health, and my friends and family. I’m so glad you’re here so we can figure out this little thing we call life, together.

My new writing class is very “generative” which is a word I only became familiar with last night when my teacher said it a few times. It means that the class is provoking ideas and thoughts and pushing your creative process along. It means that leaving the class, biking home in the dark (with my Citibike light and of course, my helmet), I was buzzing with ideas. The ideas continued this morning in the shower, and at the gym, and while I was blow drying my hair.

Ideas for stories I want to tell, content I want to produce, interviews and conversations I want to initiate.

At the same time, I faced two big rejections this week. Two literary agents I was hoping to work with turned me down.

But I noticed that something happens to me in the face of rejection. I feel disappointment, but then I feel even more strongly about what I’m doing. Rejection provides me with a clarity that I didn’t even know I needed.

My husband, James then reminded me of all the times I have been rejected. That may sound less than supportive, but it is actually the most supportive response I could fathom. My rejections hardly phased him because he reminded me of the many specific times in my life I have been told “no” and then continued along anyway.

“Nevertheless she persisted”

The time I was rejected from journalism school. The time I was desperately trying to continue my dream life in New York, going from an intern to a full-time employee and couldn’t get sponsorship for my visa and had to move back to Canada. The time I was fired from a job in San Francisco. James said “have you ever let rejection stop you before?” God, I love the guy.

I have heard that rejection is just redirection, but I’m not sure I need redirection at this point. I need to just get comfortable with the fact that putting yourself out there creatively (or in any way) comes with rejection. It isn’t something to fear, it’s something to accept and use as fuel.

Plus, how will I make one of those instagram posts quoting my rejections once I have a bestseller if I was accepted the first time around?

In the face of rejection and in the aftermath of my writing class, I was buzzing with ideas and plans, steadfast that I have something to say. In fact, with my class we shared our mantras to keep in mind this week and mine was exactly that:

“I have something to say”

And yet, I only managed to write a few loose ideas down in my notes app. It felt like trying to catch a butterfly. My ideas were swirling around my brain so clearly but as I tried to name them, poof, they were gone.

Does this happen to anyone else? I have seen it described as having too many tabs open in your brain — something I can really relate to. Not to mention, the amount of tabs that I actually have open. I may become a person who immediately writes absolutely everything down in list format but I’m also open to any and all suggestions for how you manage big ideas!

This weekend I plan to slow down enough to try to catch a few of those butterflies.

I’ll leave you with a few things I’m loving right now:

This video of a grandma meeting her grandchild… I cried real tears at my desk watching this one.

This book - Carley Fortune novels are my not-so-guilty pleasure. They’re delightful and at times smutty but always have so much heart. The female protagonists in her novels are complicated and so strong. Plus, they’re always set in the most stunning Canadian locations. When I need a break from the heady memoir work I’m doing, this book is a lovely reprieve.

What’s lighting you up in the moments you need to escape?

With love and glimmers,

Alison

This week, I went back to school for the first time in a long time — I had my first writing class. It’s an eight week creative writing course with a lovely group of people and an inspiring teacher. I biked to the location with my book bag and felt delightfully like a student again.

I may be taking this class because I have ambitions for a book and am actively working on one…but I’m also trying to break free from the self-imposed notion that everything I do has to be for the sake of productivity or a traditional measure of success. Can’t I just get out of my comfort zone, explore my brain, push myself, create art, meet new people, and so on, for the sake of it?

Think of all the opportunities for art we have as kids. I would sit at my kitchen table for hours drawing and coloring, not because I thought I was going to be the next Picasso, but because I loved it.

I keep a stack of paper and coloring supplies tucked away for when my friend’s kids come over and when I ask them if they’d like to draw or color, do I expect them to produce a piece of art they can sell? Of course not.

As I was biking to the movie theater last week to see The Devil Wears Prada 2 (I LOVED it - no questions or countering opinions accepted), I giggled to myself and how “me” I felt. In so many ways, I’m the Alison I have always been, and that’s a lovely feeling. I’ve noticed that the more I tap into the activities and explorations I had as a child, the better I feel.

I wonder what else we could add to this list? What hobbies or activities do you do that connect you with yourself or expand your horizons?

My friend from work loves to scrapbook, my mother-in-law does pottery, my sister-in-law puts together beautiful outfits (truly an art form) and saves pictures of them in her phone.

I know that biking makes me feel like a kid again, and biking is just for me. I could take the subway or a taxi to work, but nine times out of ten, I choose a bike. And I am definitely not winning any biking awards anytime soon, not to mention my electric assisted citibike would disqualify me.

So while I am going to take this writing class seriously, I am also going to have fun with it and explore the side of my brain that has loved creativity for creativity’s sake for all of it’s 34 and half years.

My glimmer of the week: James and I saw a show on broadway called Every Brilliant Thing which had many deeper meanings but the overarching theme is about noticing the little joys of life (fitting, I know!). The theater entrance was decorated with little pieces of paper representing the main character and his friends writing down the “brilliant” parts of life. The next morning, we slept in a little later than usual and as I reached for the playbill in my purse after breakfast, a little piece of paper fell out. Our own brilliant thing to take home, it read: “#10,000 sleeping in late with a person you love!” I think the production had put a glimmer like this in each persons playbill and it was perfectly kismet that this one was ours after sleeping in late, together.

This weekend, I’m off on a weekend trip with James to celebrate his birthday. His gift being my bi-annual presence on the golf course with him. Don’t worry, I have a few books downloaded on my kindle that will be perfect to read from the cart.

Please share your favorite activity or pass-time or perhaps something you hope to do more of, not for a commercial reason, but for the sake of it!

Love and glimmers,

Alison

I went out for breakfast with a girlfriend last week and time just disappeared (almost making me late for work!). It was lovely and yet, later I reflected on all we discussed and realized I had failed to ask her about a big trip she had recently taken. And I had no idea what she was doing that weekend. We didn’t “catch up,” despite not seeing each other all that often — instead of downloading our lives to the other, we simply discussed exactly what was on our minds in that moment. More-so, we spoke about a shared growth point we have and sought each others advice on it. We picked up our conversation as if we see each other everyday.

It got me thinking about how allergic to “catching-up” I have become and how it actually makes me feel further from the people I love when that is my only connection point with them.

To use Stephanie’s beautiful words from last week, I would much rather ask “How’s your heart?” to a loved one and get into the thick of it.

But not every conversation needs to get super deep, every time to fill my cup.

My brother Thomas and I send each other quick texts anytime we exercise. We may live 2000 miles away from each other, but we’re accountability buddies.

A simple “Got a great strength work out in!” and a “Nice one!!” in response is such a fun and motivating way to constantly interact with each other.

It means we are in communication almost every few days (more if we’re each in a good streak of workouts!), we cheer each other on and it often will lead to a quick phone call with a question or an update or an accompanying photo that sparks a response.

That foundation we’re laying - we support each other, we communicate, we can pick up the phone at any time, helps the gap of distance and time feel less grand. Instead of calling once every few weeks or months with the pressure of a big “tell me everything that has happened to you in the last 45 days,” I know that I talked to my brother just yesterday and that generally he can get ahold of me anytime.

I remember as a little girl, my Grandma would watch one of my favorite shows Lamb Chops from her nursing home so that she could call me afterward and chat about it. We connected over our shared love of knock-knock jokes instead of the typical “How was pre-school today?” I may have been 4 years old, but that has always stuck with me.

Another friend and I will cut through the urge to catch up and just text “what did you have for breakfast today?” which is code for, “invite me in to the minutiae of your life — I’ll feel closer to you.” Isn’t that what we’re all looking for? Connection with the people we love the most.

Similarly this goes for the friend you can run errands with, walk your dog with or anything but simply sitting across from each other. When we invite each other into activities and routines and experiences, we cut through the long lists of updates, actually connect and on a good day, make a new memory.

This weekend I am excited to see The Devil Wears Prada 2. I texted my girlfriends, Caitie and Leigh (who I wrote about here) and reminded them of the time we dressed up in looks fit for Carrie/Miranda/Charlotte & Samantha for the Sex and the City movie way back when (2010). We were dressed to the Nines which didn’t exactly fit the shopping mall parking lot we rolled up to. I won’t be dressing up this weekend, but I will be eating lots of popcorn and I’m very excited to see Miranda and Andie and Emily and Nigel back at it.

I also have been listening to Emma Grede’s book Start with Yourself as an audiobook which has been very buzz-worthy. I tend to absorb self-help style books a lot more easily by listening to them and I reserve my fiction or memoirs for my dedicated reading time. That way, it also makes it easier to have two books on the go (one audio, one actual). I think all the backlash was created by people who didn’t actually read her book. So far, I am loving it. I am a self-proclaimed “ambition monster” like Emma, and I’m finding it very inspiring. Hearing her voice and tone is an added bonus, and you know I love when someone hammers a point home with a good swear, which she hilariously does often.

Now, I’ll leave you with this glimmer from last weekend:

James ran a half marathon in Brooklyn so I surprised him at the finish line with Rigby. It was delightful and I’m sure it was a glimmer for him (and definitely a few dog-loving spectators and runners!)

I positively love half-marathons and marathons for many reasons but especially all that they bring out in people - friends and family (and dogs) cheering their people on who have worked so hard at something. As we were leaving, we watched a family cheering on their daughter who looked to be in her early twenties. The family went WILD, and as she passed, they all burst into tears! She kept running and they all cried and laughed and one of them exclaimed “I’m just so proud of her!!!!” Welp. Lucky girl. Lucky family.

With love and glimmers,

Alison

A few months ago I was home surprising my sister for her fortieth birthday (which I wrote about here). I love going home for big events for many reasons, but one added benefit is getting to connect with the beautiful people who make up the fabric of my family’s lives. My family is the type of family where if you’re close with one of us, you’re close with all of us. Our house was the gathering spot growing up and despite living in various homes and places as adults, I love that we have kept up this motto. Even my friends in New York feel close to my siblings and parents thousands of miles away.

Which leads me to today’s feature, Stephanie Tetreault. Stephanie came into my sisters life when she was in law school while I was still a teenager. Stephanie and my sister would entertain me before their nights out and then regal me with stories in the morning. They were both so studious and ambitious too. I looked up to both of them so much. When I was struggling in college, I remembered that Stephanie was an avid runner and she had professed its many mental health benefits. So, I took up running and followed in her literal foot steps training for and completing half marathons and pushing my body and mind beyond what I knew I was capable of, building my confidence along the way.

It is always a pleasure to spend time with Stephanie while home in Winnipeg but this past fall, it meant even more knowing that we had both had quite an eventful year. In the hustle of the party, Stephanie asked me (and Hilary! Hi Hil!) a question that has stuck with me ever since. She cut right to the chase, looked in our eyes and said, “How’s your heart?”

I have to admit, I burst out laughing. But then, we dove in.

Stephanie is such a special woman, friend, lawyer, mother, runner and heart-holder. I have learned so much from our interactions and I’m really excited to share a conversation with her for this week’s Between Headlines below.

Stephanie is so generous and vulnerable with her thoughts and time and I think we will all take her words to heart, literally. Enjoy.

AH: How is your heart, right now?

ST: “My heart is happy. I’ve been weaving through a few big life “seasons” over the past couple of years, and my heart has felt heavy and sad at times. But right now, I am in a season of feeling profoundly peaceful, content and grateful and my heart feels happy; not all day every day, but every day.”

AH: I love this “How’s your heart?” question so much, where did it come from for you and how do you use it in your own life, and with your children? 

“I’m so glad this resonates with you! I think I started asking my kiddos this question when they were really little. I would place my hand on their heart and say, “How is your heart today, sweetie?” It was a way for me to connect with them, in tiny moments, and let them tell me what big or little things were going on in their little hearts and minds. Now, at ages 8 and 10, it has become a bit of a code-phrase for us. I ask it, and they know I want the deep stuff, haha. We do all the “How was your day today? How was school? What did you play at recess?” conversations at the dinner table. I save the “How’s your heart” for a tender moment alone, usually at bedtime, when we are one-on-one, when they know they have my full and undivided attention.

I also use it on occasion with my dearest friends – a shortcut to a more meaningful conversation. I think it’s an invitation for the recipient of the question to share more vulnerably, to know that I care and want to hear about the more meaningful pieces of their day and life in that moment. It bypasses the “How are you? Good.” conversation pretty quickly!”

AH: Your wonderful Dad passed away a year and half ago. What has surprised you most about your grief? And how have you learned to hold it?

“Thank you for asking that. I could say so much about this. It has been a journey. My grief has surprised me in so many ways. At first, it was so consuming. My mind and body were overtaken by it. My sleep, appetite, focus and attention were consumed. Gradually, over about 10 months, that shifted into something that has felt more manageable.

My sadness is still so strong; for me, for my family, and for my Dad. That this happened to him. That he’s missing it all. The loss feels deep and meaningful. And there is room for it in my life, of course, but it is not all my life now. Sometimes it pops up unexpectedly, and I try to let it filter through me. Sometimes it comes up for my kiddos, and I try to sit with them through it, even though it is painful for me, too.

I have been surprised too at how grief has presented for me at times. I held a lot of anger and resentment for a while. I had to really work to let that go. I have had to work through the trauma of the speed at which my Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died – all within seven weeks – with no symptoms or warning signs. And I have had to process watching someone I loved my whole life – die in front of me. It’s been hard, and meaningful, and I have been changed by it.”

AH: Thank you for sharing that with us, and for sharing him with us. How do you connect with and honor your Dad when he is no longer with you physically? 

“We have a digital Aura frame in our kitchen, and nothing makes me happier than seeing my Dad’s huge smile come across the screen while I’m chopping vegetables. I try to make a point of saying his name every day; I will say to my son after his hockey game, “Grand-pa would have loved to watch you play today”. I will say to my daughter, “Grand-pa loved that song you’re listening to.” When I am alone, I will listen to his favorite music. Sometimes when I pass the cemetery and see his grave from the bridge in our town, I will just say a quick “Hi, Dad.” I have a few of his jackets. My husband wears his favorite Chicago Blackhawks t-shirt around the house. It’s not perfect, and it’s painful, but we try to let him in as much as we can.”

AH: “It’s not perfect and it’s painful, but…” that’s so meaningful Stephanie. You have such a wonderful way with words. I wonder if you have advice for people for how to communicate their feelings of love or support during someone’s difficult moments. Do you have any favorite phrases or sayings that you like to use? I’m thinking of a few you have sent me! 

Thank you for saying that; that can be tricky. Everyone is so different! I think for me, I try to just do something, anything, during someone’s difficult moment. That is what sticks out to me, from my most acute period when my Dad was dying, and then after he passed. Friends who left soup at the door without even ringing the bell, sent a card, or a book, or a kind message. At the end of the day, all I really wanted to hear was, “This sucks. This is so shitty. I am so sad for you.” I think asking, “What is one small thing I can do for you today?” rather than “Let me know if there is anything I can do.” is very thoughtful and more manageable for the recipient.

Also, French is my first language, and in French we often say, “Courage.” to someone in a difficult moment. It means more than, “Have courage”, though. It means:

“Don’t give up. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.” and so much more.

I also like to say, “Take gentle care.” to someone when I know they’re going through something, as a way of recognizing that their heart needs tender care right now, and I see that.

AH: I remember you said both “courage” to me and “take gentle care” and I loved both so much, so thank you!

You have the sweetest kids. I love the way you speak about them and the joy that you get from your family life. What is your philosophy in parenting?

ST: That is the loveliest thing to say, thank you. They are wonderfully thoughtful and curious children. They are absolutely the great joys of my life. I think my philosophy is always evolving, but I strive to be a sturdy and safe place for them. I try to lead in my parenting with curiosity and empathy.

AH: Lastly -- any recent obsessions - favorite book, podcast, trip or experience?! (or all of the above!) 

Fun! We are just home from a two-week holiday in Italy, and we absolutely loved it and soaked in every glimmer that Italy had to offer us! While there, I read “Lady Tremaine”and loooooooved it. It is the tale of Cinderella, beautifully re-written from the perspective of the wicked stepmother. Highly recommend!

I listen almost exclusively to running podcasts! Top picks are Nobody Asked Us, Inspired Soles and Ali on the Run! Thanks for having me, Alison!

Thank YOU Stephanie!!

“Take gentle care,” friends.

With love and glimmers,

Alison

Share Between Headlines with Alison Hall

I’m looking forward to a quiet and balanced weekend ahead. On the horizon - Pizza Friday, a long trot in Central Park with Rigby, some closet cleaning (a never-ending task for me), some reading and writing time, a birthday party Saturday evening, a workout, and a brunch on Sunday. Pretty perfect!

What constitutes a perfect weekend for you? I have several versions of “perfect” of course, because another version would center around time with my family!

Last weekend, I went to Newport, Rhode Island with my two best friends from high school. Three Canadian girls exploring a gorgeous American city, rich with so much history. I highly recommend adding Newport as a destination, especially if you’re a fan of The Gilded Age (and if you’re not - start watching it!).

I’ll add a few Newport recommendations to the bottom of this post!

While the ocean was bluer than blue, the gilded mansions grandeur than grand and the food would make any foodie swoon, it was the company that made this trip really soar.

There is something so special about being with people who have known you for most of your life.

I met Leigh when I was eight years old when I moved onto our street with my family from Vancouver. Then, Leigh introduced me to Caitie when I transferred to our private all-girls Catholic school in grade eleven after having a rough go at the public school across the street.

The three of us were like three peas in a pod or “the three musketeers” like so many best friend trios label themselves. We had a lot of fun, but we also loved to just talk. We would spend hours poring over our crushes and our challenges and our ambitions while eating pancakes at a local diner (shoutout Sal’s) or in the basement at Leigh’s house, or in Caitie’s beat-up old car “Daisy” — wrapped in blankets because the heat didn’t work.

And that’s exactly what we did this weekend, amidst all the walking and exploring and eating, we talked and we talked and we talked. We reflected on the last 20 years. We laughed and marveled at our younger selves. We helped each other remember specific problems and things that happened to us.

We reflected on issues our younger selves went through and some of it seemed so insignificant now and yet, they were everything at the time. And that my friends, is hindsight.

We have stood by each other through multiple boyfriends and breakups and graduations and illnesses and part-time jobs and big jobs and weddings and pregnancies and births and cancer and heartaches. Girlhood may mean scream-singing Vanessa Carlton at a piano bar, but it also means, witnessing and sharing and supporting each other through so many of life’s big and little moments.

I emphasized how I wished I had taken things less seriously back in our late teens and early twenties. I wish I had given myself more of a break and more breathing room to make mistakes. And to be more forgiving to myself and others. But I recognize I can only reach that conclusion because of the passage of time and all the growth both active and passive that has come along with it.

I can say that now because I know that things turned out okay. The anxieties of youth and the questioning of “how will things turn out?”, really add to the notion that Leigh reminded us of, that “youth is wasted on the young.”

It is a privilege to grow older. It is a privilege to reflect on our lives with empathy for ourselves and others and it is especially a privilege to do it alongside people who we have loved and who have loved us through it all.

And that, is something to celebrate.

Now, to my Newport recommendations!

We stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast called Gilded. Very reasonable and the perfect set up for us. We had a fireplace in our room and a comfortable pull out couch.

Though if I were to go back I would splurge on something like The Vanderbilt Hotel or The Gardiner House Hotel (the restaurant Flora was to die for and home to the best lobster roll I have ever had.)

The Cliff Walk (a backside view of all the mansions - not for the faint of heart - the terrain gets extremely rocky and rugged, proceed with caution and turn around if you are not fully mobile, or with a young child or an elderly person)

Marble House (the one mansion we toured inside, but next time, I’m adding The Breakers and Rosecliff House to my agenda). The history of Alva Vanderbilt (Belmont) was fascinating to us - after marrying into the Vanderbilt family in the late 1800’s, she later divorced her husband (nearly unheard of at the time) and became a leader in the suffrage movement, hosting many meetings at her palatial Newport estate.

Clarke Cooke House (a very fun restaurant with very good food and a lively atmosphere)

Great shopping on Thames Street.

An ocean dip! (Caitie and I jumped in the freezing cold water and it was equally amazing and shocking at the same time)

Let me know if you’ve been to Newport or have plans to go.

Love you, bye!

Alison

Most people know by now that I simply love my couch. I love being home, making use of my mortgage (a joke I have seen humorously depicted in instagram memes). I love Pizza Friday, I love lighting candles and getting cozy. I have even come a long way with ridding myself of FOMO (the fear of missing out) and just embraced what I need to do and when, and for the last year or so — what I needed was my couch. When? All the time. That is one thing I love about getting older. In my twenties a Friday night at home felt lonely and depressing. In my thirties — heaven.

During the pandemic (that’s over now right? what year is it again?) I think we all got pretty comfortable with being home in many ways, once we succumbed to the fact that we couldn’t go out in the world. Zoom dates and courses and meetings became the norm and still exist to this day. Thanks to the commonality of virtual meetings, interviews (and shoots for television), my job became much less travel heavy and remains that way to this day and truthfully, I love that. I still get to meet people from across the country and learn their stories, but I also get to sleep in my own bed at night.

However — have we gone too far? Did we lean in to the convenience of the virtual world a little too hard? Did the idea of going outside of our comfort zone and meeting people IRL especially on a work/school night become such a distant memory? In my opinion, yes.

I have recently signed up for a group writing class, and if I get in, it will involve meeting once a week, on a work-night with 12 strangers for three whole hours face to face. I will have to pack dinner in a lunchbox… I will have to go if I’m tired, and I will have to socialize with entirely new people and open myself about my work in a very vulnerable way. Thank goodness the sign up email said “I know this is scary - do it anyway.”

To be honest, it wasn’t just the vulnerable sharing of my work that scared me, it was giving up a work/school night. I cherish that quiet time where I make dinner with James and go to bed at 9pm. But as I sensed my own hesitation, I reminded myself that I live in New York (effing) City. That I’m 34 years old. That I don’t have children yet that make doing something like this more complicated. That I love people. And that almost every time I put myself in a room that scares me, with new people, I get something (or a lot) out of it.

We as people need human connection. In an ever-changing world so dominated by artificial intelligence, I am looking at the faces and expressions of all of the diverse and beautiful people around me when I put myself out there and I’m appreciating them even more.

No amount of AI can replace the feelings and emotions shared between people whether one on one or in an audience.

Has anyone been to the theater lately? I dare AI to try change that (please don’t, it will never work). I have always been a person who gets emotional at curtain call - watching these brilliant (even the not so brilliant) performers take their bow after working so hard and expressing themselves so openly and that effervescent feeling of an audience clapping, appreciating the work of these humans… it gets me. Now more than ever. Don’t get me started on a true rousing standing ovation. Cue the waterworks!

I recently hosted a discussion with my friend celebrating the launch of her book, Waiting for Dawn. We gathered with a few dozen people in the rare book room at the famous New York City bookstore, The Strand. It was such a special night and reminded me of the ways we show up for each other, even on a work night, even on a Monday night. Friends and followers and strangers alike, sitting and listening in this storied room that has hosted decades and decades of conversations and big ideas. It was so special.

So yes, do I use my AI chatbot (Claude) like my google and is it incredibly helpful? Absolutely.

But can it go to my new writing class and receive and give feedback to total strangers pouring their hearts out to each other? Absolutely not.

So as I write to you on this corner of the internet, I say, here’s to the in-person opportunities that arise, whether we seek them out or “say yes” the next time we’re invited.

There’s simply nothing like it.

With love and glimmers,

Alison