On Sunday morning, I’d sit in a hard pew sandwiched between my two wavy-haired, lacy-socked sisters – passing notes about whether or not we thought our mother might let us stop for roast beef and milkshakes after service. We’d sing “Victory in Jesus” from red, dusty hymnals and I’d secretly pray to the Lord that
So, we’ve been simplifying. I know you know this, because it’s a fairly strong current that’s been running through every word I’ve shared in the past year, maybe longer? Broken record over here. (But I kind of like the scratch.) Ever the cliche, January sounds like the perfect time to clean out a closet or
This weekend, pecans. Candied and sticky, one batch then two and finally three. The recipe was unearthed in a paleo cookbook months ago and I have, in many batches since, perfected them to the point of imperfection. I do this often, discovering an ideal recipe but in a mixture of laziness or self-expression or sheer
I didn’t want to write this post. It feels scary and raw, and there is a deep temptation to stay in my lane – my self-imposed lane, of course – where I share throw pillows and toys and memories. Things stay fluffy and good; positive and bright. Bright is my specialty, my second set of
We’re not mega gift-givers in our home, often preferring to opt for adventures or time together rather than wrapped sentiments. But, I do so enjoy finding and choosing the perfect thoughtful trinkets for my family – small gestures of my appreciation for the love and warmth they share with me daily. Here’s a sneak
The reunion had been planned for what, six months? A weekend away in Chicago, just our tiny group of women and the many hats we pack in our suitcases: chefs and mothers and designers and musicians. And it sounded perfect. Until it didn’t sound perfect, and the days grew closer and the nights grew longer.
There isn’t a word for the unique brew of abundant scarcity. I feel it always, nearly every day – this wave of everything and nothing at the same time. This perceived abundance of time and moments with the very knowledge that it is passing, right now, this very moment. That the sun outside is sinking
So. I’m just going to jump right into this one, deal? I hear a lot of encouragement for today’s women to lower the expectations. We blame Pinterest and glossy inspirational blogs for setting an impossible standard and we preach for “normalcy” – for an everyday status quo that offers attainability for the masses (whatever the