Easter is coming. Another big meal around the dinner table with friends and family. Chaos will ensue in the kitchen. There will be no time for homemade rolls. At least that’s what my Mom always said.
My mom’s in town for the week. We’ve been eating well. Very well. Drinking plenty of glasses of wine and sharing stories we’ve probably told a million times. They’re stories that make our family unique. Stories about my brother chasing my sister down the beach declaring, “sweet revenge,” with a plastic sword in his hand. Stories of sitting in ant piles and falling off my scooter. My dad picked every last pebble out of my knee. Stories of listening to my Big Bird tape player sing “I wanna go home” over and over again. Stories that no one else quite understands except my family. They’re ours. Read more
Good friends are hard to come by. They’re like gold when you find them. The same is true of a good recipe.
I took a last minute trip home to Dallas this weekend to see my friend and her newborn baby. We’ve been friends since 4th grade when we met on the soccer field. We played for the Wildcats. I was a defender. She was a defender. And the next thing you know we were jumping on her trampoline. Then came sleepover parties. Cookouts with our families. Dressing up like Pilgrims and Indians at Thanksgiving at an age I wont mention. Much too old to be dressing up. Or not. We hung out at her house nearly every weekend with the posse in highschool. I’d fall asleep on the couch early. It was a given. We went to prom together and graduated high school together. We separated for college but spent late nights talking at Starbucks over breaks. We walked down the isle at each others weddings. And then I moved away. We grew up. Became adults. Semi adults. And then she had a baby. The distance felt farther than the 1600+ miles Google maps displayed. So I flew home on a whim. Thanks Dad. Held the sweetest baby in the world. And saw my friend, once a Wildcat, become a mother. Pure gold. Read more
A couple months ago, I started this simple summer series. I read every last suggestion from you on how to keep summer simple and even implemented a handful, although they were faced with great resistance at first. A friend from college posted a suggestion to go outside, sit on the back porch, and stop everything. Shivers ran up my spine as a read it. Read more
I’m pretty sure I’ve signed up for every last Martha Stewart email there is. It was a good idea at first. Until opening up my email in the mornings turned into stress due to the sheer amount, and the delete button became the only thing that looked appetizing. The ding is both a blessing and a curse. Read more
I’m back in action. Thanks for your sweet comments while I was out soaking up computer screen rays. My vitamin HTML levels are at an all time high. And I’ve never felt more unrested. I kid. Well, not really. But on a positive note, I’m making a tiny dent in that big ole t0-do list. We rented out our condo (hallelujah!). My resume and portfolio are near completion. My sister’s wedding invites and website are done. I dried and straightened my hair for the first time since Christmas (TMI, sorry). And those secret projects I mentioned are cooking up nicely. One foot in front of the other. Read more
I’ve been busy. This weekend I started building my design website. Just about finished up designing my sisters wedding invites. And dreamed up a new cookie recipe (coming later this week). Productivity never felt so good. The last couple months I’ve had a dark cloud looming over my head. A to-do list a mile long. It’s dibilitating. But I’ve decided to put one foot in front of the other. Chip away little by little. And plan zero social outings on the weekends. Soon enough things will get back to normal. Right? Read more
My apologies—I’m late on The Food Matters Project this week. But I had an important announcement to make. Since then, the cupcakes have been eaten. And the excitement has turned into fears. Fears of renting our place out. Fears of finding a job. Fears of failing. Fears of landing a good place to live. A place with a gas stove. With laundry. With character. And lots of light. The details are weighing on us. And trusting is hard. Trusting that we’re headed exactly where we’re supposed to go. But I’ll try. And I’ll try again tomorrow. And the next day. I think it’s the only option. Read more