We drive fast because we’re late. Getting out the door is an olympic event. We swerve because they scream. A dropped blanket or … just because. We wear our hair in a top bun because effective hairdryers are just too loud. We button our jeans higher because our hips have dropped lower. And we fail at dinner because it’s been moved from 8:30 to 5:30 with one new rule. You must tie one or both hands behind your back. Sometimes motherhood makes us look about as cool as mom jeans. Read more
I have an announcement of sorts, and I’m burying it in a post about chicken salad. Lucy’s Chicken Salad. I’ve been keeping this bit of information to myself for awhile, which is rare for an over-sharer like me. I’ve been starring at the blinking curser, picking at and playing with my hair like I do when I’m thinking but can’t verbally formulate my thoughts. This announcement–it’s really not that hard to say or even that crazy. I’m just not comfortable with it yet. Just like I wasn’t comfortable calling Kevin my fiancé for months after getting engaged. And the same reason I still have a hard time calling myself a mom. Those are grown-up words. And most days, I swear I’m still in high school. Read more
It’s been one of those weeks where I’ve had more of these than the things that grow out of the ground. My poor body. To combat “those weeks”, which are becoming my new norm, I’ve started roasting a sheet of veggies in a balsamic vinaigrette at the start of the week. Roasting vegetables is a magical thing. They caramelize and turn to candy in the oven. I could eat the whole sheet in one sitting. But instead, I ration them out throughout the week, stuff them in a wrap, and call it lunch.
Life lunch saver. Read more
I don’t typically title my recipes with adjectives like amazing, superb, or outstanding. It seems trite. But in this case, I have good reason. I went to my first Thai restaurant in college. Growing up in Texas, I’d only ever heard of tex-mex. I’m only half kidding. Upon recommendation from a friend, I ordered #45—Amazing Chicken. Read more
Airports are funny places. Full of emotion. I said good-bye to my sister on Monday, choking back tears as I walked through security trying my hardest not to look like that crazy pregnant lady, all the while dreaming of the day “good-bye” means “see you tomorrow”. And yet a week and a half earlier I was over-the-moon excited to head out of town to celebrate my husband’s graduation with family and friends. Bipolar emotions—airports do that to me. Read more
I don’t care much for baby carrots anymore. I ate them nearly every day at lunch for a solid year. Pretty sure it was the longest year of my life. Have you ever chewed one of those baby carrots? It takes about 5 minutes per carrot. And I always seemed to pack at least 10. That must equal about 4 whole carrots. Those little guys are deceptively dense and far more compact than any normal carrot. And their shape—it’s just a little too perfect. My hands used to turn orange during that time. It all makes sense now. I was eating wayyyy too many carrots. 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
When your husband has been out of town all month, you make a bitchin’ bowl for dinner every night. It’s far better than the eggs and toast which usually fill that stark white dinner plate. And it’s ready in five minutes. And for just a second, it makes you forget that you’re alone in a condo fully dressed in Christmas garb at the end of January.
Three and a half years later. One semester to go. My husband is nearing the end of graduate school. At least the school part. He’s currently touring the country interviewing for internships. Connecticut. Maryland. Ohio. Michigan. Tennessee. Illinois (current home). Louisiana. Kentucky. Colorado. In one short month we’ll find out where we’re going. February 24. Match day. A simple email holds our fate. Read more