People often ask me why I started a blog at this stage of life. The short answer? I’ve spent decades collecting knowledge—some genuinely useful, some delightfully useless, but all of it something. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that what’s trivial to some can be downright enlightening to others. And let’s be honest—the “useless” stuff? That’s often the most entertaining.
My husband, with his signature dry humor, once gifted me a “Doctorate in Know-It-All” diploma for our 5th anniversary. It was meant as a joke, but let’s face it… the shoe fits. Over the years, I’ve built strong opinions on everything from gut health to the bizarre ways humans behave under pressure—all while juggling menopause, shifting friendships, career pivots, and the joy/panic of raising a teen. But really, my story started long before any of that.
A Family of Legends – I was raised by a woman who, to this day, remains larger than life. In the 1950s, she was known as Ida Puente—yes, that Puente. Married to Tito (common-law, no less), my mother didn’t just dip her toe into the limelight—she cannonballed right in. A Tropicana dancer with stage presence that could quiet a room, she glided through the mambo scene like it owed her rent.
Ida didn’t just dance—she conquered. One week she was dazzling Havana crowds, the next running her Manhattan nightclub, Ida’s Eastside, and the next lighting up Vegas showrooms. The Catskills? Her summer playground.
Together, she and Tito had a son, my brother, Richie Puente (aka “Kiki” to us). A musical prodigy and founding member of the band Foxy, best known for their hit “Get Off.” Kiki was rhythm personified. He could play five instruments by ear, yet couldn’t read a lick of sheet music to save his life but give him ten seconds and he’d reproduce any tune, note for note. If my mother danced like the spotlight owed her rent, Richie played like the universe owed him a beat.
Glimpses of Stardust – At home, we caught glimpses of her past like flashes from a disco ball—never the full story, fame was just… background noise. Every so often, a phone call would come through, and an hour later, someone iconic would be sitting at our kitchen table having coffee with my mom. Of course, I’d be hiding behind a wall, channeling my inner CIA agent, soaking up every word.
Names dropped like marbles, but my mom never bragged—she’d just smile knowingly, like the keeper of secrets you’d never quite earn. I always wondered: How did she know them? More importantly—how did they know her?
Miami Vice and Other Realities –Meanwhile, I was living a teenage life straight out of a surreal indie film. While most kids bragged about parents who were doctors or lawyers, I was hanging out with the children of Colombia’s most prolific drug smugglers. No, really. They showed up in imported sneakers, flashy cars, loads of cash, casually calling their dads “businessmen.” The irony? They were the kindest, most fiercely loyal, generous and fun friends… (Ever wondered how Miami was really built… well, that’s for a different blog post.)
As for my own father—he stayed behind in Brazil when we returned to the States. My mom raised three kids alone, fueled by grit, flair, and espresso. She didn’t complain. She just handled it.
I was lucky, though. I had my grandparents and a few sharp-dressed, old-school wise guys who stepped in. My godfather was a true gentleman—quiet (yet quick tempered), loyal, devoted and… how shall I put this? Very connected. You didn’t ask how he knew what he knew. You just knew not to ask. And yes, some things “fell off trucks” and magically appeared in our apartment. My childhood was…let’s just say, unconventional. It didn’t follow a script yet came with an unforgettable cast of characters.
This Blog Was Supposed to Be a Duo Act – Originally, this blog was meant to be a shared project with my younger brother, Ari. We envisioned videos from his surfing and DJ flanked life in Brazil, holistic recipes, garden hacks, and funny life lessons scattered like breadcrumbs. But life had other plans.
A sudden illness took Ari far too soon. It took me two years to find the strength to continue—alone. In the span of six years, I had lost my mother, father, and little brother. The grief has been suffocating at times. But somewhere in that sadness came something unexpected: resilience. The kind you don’t know you have until life throws a boulder in your path and says, “Climb over it.”
This blog is part therapy, part tribute, and 100% storytelling. It’s how I keep Ari with me. And how I make sense of this beautiful messy life.
The Career Shuffle (Otherwise Known as My Résumé) –Professionally, I’ve never followed a straight line. My mother told me to study accounting, I’d always have a job (classic mom advice), so I did. But a lifetime of spreadsheets? Not a chance. I needed excitement.
That need took me into finance within the modeling industry during the golden era of South Beach—think parties, beautiful people, shoulder pads, and egos the size of yachts. From there, I jumped into advertising, starting in Miami and eventually landing in New York—the city that never sleeps (which worked out since neither did I, I’m a big napper myself). Technically I lived in NYC but flew home to Miami every other weekend. Homesick? Always. Cold? Never.
Eventually, I returned to my first love: wellness. Probably because I was raised by a woman who could cure anything with herbs, food, and the occasional spiritual cleanse. I helped entrepreneurs build and sell their wellness businesses, and when that chapter closed, I launched my own supplement brand—combining my business chops with my passion for holistic health. Yes, I know, my career path reads like a playlist on shuffle—finance, fashion, grief, reinvention, and more than a few “what the hell am I doing?” moments. Somewhere along the way, I truly earned that Doctorate in Know-It-All, one unpredictable chapter at a time. So here I am—sharing stories, laughing through the chaos, and keeping it real. Names may be changed, but if it sounds familiar, it’s probably about you.
Welcome to the party—bring your curiosity and your sense of humor, things are about to get interesting.
