oh hey. remember me? I used to fancy myself a blogger.


...but I've been more than just a little preoccupied for the past month.

weightless--floating on a proverbial cloud,

cheeks sore from the perma-grin,

so teeming with the purest, sweetest of joys I could absolutely explode.


we're engaged and busily planning our dream wedding for autumn. we can't freaking wait to share our love story with the people who know and love us the deepest, and embark on a marriage we've both prayed for, all our lives.

thank you for years of following along with me--I'll dare to say you can expect to have a little more bridal content popping up here in the next little bit.

I never knew a depth of love like this could exist, and I am just endlessly grateful to God that he led us to each other--amidst all of the terrible decisions, really bad dates, the gnawing impatience and the dismal wondering if life would eventually pan out the way I always dreamed it could... here I am, living day-to-day in something that far and above exceeds anything I could ever map out for myself. I am so, so endlessly, forever grateful for His love, mercy and faithfulness.

...and I absolutely cannot wait to be your wife, Joel.



Now excuse me while I get back to this syrupy sweet stage that I never, ever want to forget.

...six months and counting, y'all! Here we go!!

Nighttime took us to Odd Duck for dinner, followed up by brews at Easy Tiger before heading back to snuggle up in preparation for a long weekend of reunioning in Waco.


Friday morning, we gorged at Gordough's, before hilariously attempting to wait at Franklin's for BBQ (the line was 120 deep nearly an hour before the place opened). So we plan B'ed our way to drive around UT's campus and some of the more central murals before grabbing a caffeine jolt at Caffe Medici. A happy accident ensued when--true to form--I squealed at the sight of a tiny, fluffy canine--which prompted us to initiate light conversation with said nugget's owner. This gentleman suggested swinging into Nau's Enfield Drug on the adjacent corner, so we dipped into explore the dusty time warp, and the sweetheart behind the counter whipped us up some bomb breakfast tacos before we hit the road for the hour-and-a-half north to Waco.


First stop in the motherland was--naturally--margaritas with my dear old dad at Ninfa's. We skipped around campus for a while ("this is the super-retro journalism building! ...and this is where I wrecked my bike the summer of my junior year and thought no one saw!") and grabbed milky ways at Common Grounds before meeting up with with J's college roommate (small world!). Finally, we had a tour of HEB (and subsequently procured local beer and Blue Bell) before settling in with my childhood best friend's fam for a night of football and long overdue catch-up.



Saturday started earlier than preferred with the biggest college Homecoming parade (in the country! totally worth the early wake-up!), followed by an 11 a.m. kick-off, that led to a last seconds, unexpected victory over OSU.







Trips to campus ignite mixed feelings sometimes, but Homecoming weekend was so utterly sweet--so many warmly familiar faces and elements of childhood and young adulthood that are steadfast and unwavering and intricately woven into who I am. I was completely in my element, introducing my favorite guy to the rest of favorite people in the world, in one of my all-time favorite places in the world.

Game timing was on our side, as UK kicked off toward the tail end of Baylor's game, so we scrambled to get to a sports bar to cheer on the Cats before heading to my dear friend Amy's for more Operation: Show Off My Favorite Greek to All of My Favorite Texans.





Sunday morning, J had the honor of meeting my Pops' beloved Airedale, Benjamin, and we all took in a dewy morning walk together before getting lost in our breakfast burritos at my favorite hometown haunt. We had the requisite stop at Bucee's before spending the afternoon with my niece and nephews crawling all over us, as we caught up with my SIL and brother. And all too suddenly, it was time to head to the airport, and I was a mess of tears--a trip I'd long anticipated slowly dwindling to a close, with me hopping a plane to the life I've steadily built, 800 miles away from the people and places that built me.



It must be mentioned that my guy was a total champ, and that as I introduced him to no fewer than 31 folks (as well as a smattering of dogs, longhorns and barn cats) in a matter of 48 hours, he was his ever reliable, charming and laidback self: the ideal travel partner. (And yes, I know how fortunate I am.)

Happy to relay more recs anytime you find yourself needing them--and while it may be unpopular to put out there, here goes: do yourself a favor and don't get lost swimming in the Silos. Waco has so, so much more to offer than that, and was plenty cool before Magnolia came around. I love the Gaineses as much as any other millennial gal, but take my word for it--spend your time getting lost elsewhere.

My overarching advice to anyone seeking an authentic Texas experience is to prioritize breakfast tacos and barbecue, find some live music and local shopping, do something outside, and always, above all, stay loose and not too tied to an itinerary. There are simply way too many amazing ways a trip can shake out to be nailed to a rigorous agenda.

Until next time, Texas!

 

We spent the first weekend in October gallivanting around Asheville, and the mini vacay couldn't have come at a better time. We were drawn there initially for J's best buddy's wedding, but you better believe we extended the trip a couple days to deep dive into a sampling of what the Paris of the South has to offer. If you haven't had the joy of unwinding in this glorious place, go already! It is teeming with art and culture, insanely beautiful views, and ohhhh man, the food. And for you Nashville folks, it's a little over a four-hour-drive due east, and more than manageable for a weekend escape.

Here's a little of what we'd suggest:


Do:
Get outside. Hike somewhere! We started the weekend by driving down to Dupont State Forest (roughly an hour south from downtown) for a long morning hike to Bridal Veil Falls, and High Falls. Full disclaimer: long stretches of the path to Bridal Veil Falls are not so much a hike as they are a long walk on a gravel road. We took the puppies with us and they absolutely loved it. Fun fact: High Falls was featured in The Hunger Games!




It was about six miles roundtrip, the area is exceptionally maintained and the incline is minimal. The terrain that got tricky was right at Bridal Veil Falls, which a bulk of is actually submerged, and therefore super slick. Wear shoes with some grip if you've got 'em, although hiking boots might be overkill for six miles of mostly flat land. That said, there were several teensy pools of water that the pups were more than happy to trot down into to cool off and sip on.



Check out this awesome resource for hike-planning, which offers maps, reviews, photos and everything in between.

Last year on a girls' trip, we hiked Catawba Falls (on the west side of Asheville) and it was all kinds of enchanting--misty waterfalls, tons of glorious greenery and tall, tall trees--one thing to note: while the sites say they're dog-friendly, I wouldn't recommend bringing pups along, as there can be a lot of variation in incline and hiking difficulty, especially depending on the weather preceding your trip.



There are countless areas to savor some nature (albeit most require a little bit of a drive outside of town)--and from what I've seen, they're all totally worth the time and navigating.

Next up: downtown exploring! Pounding that pavement! Downtown Asheville is quickly rising as a culinary hotspot in the southeast, and it's so easy to see why: each shiny eatery staggering the street is hipper than the next. It's also really concentrated and walkable--most of the bustling restaurants are situated on Market Street or Biltmore Avenue.

Okay. Time to discuss food. Something we noticed from the get-go is that Asheville is all about some tapas. Bougie small plates are all the rage. With that in mind, we tried a couple, Sovereign Remedies and Curate.



Both were pretty delicious, although admittedly, and as a shock to no one... pretty small portions. The space at Sovereign Remedies was so warmly eclectic in a way only Asheville could claim--upon entry, seemingly a hipster's paradise, complete with street corner prime real estate, walls of bright windows, and expansive bar offerings covering a wall, from waist-high to the ceiling--but as you weave your way throughout the narrow labyrinth of hallways upstairs, you can't help but warm up at the scores of simple houseplants tucked in unassuming shelf corners, and the charmingly mismatched chairs circling a hodge podge of small tables.

At Sovereign Remedies, we had the crispy pig ears, bone marrow tater tots and the bavette steak, with the tots being a standout favorite... but nothing was super earth-shattering.

The location at Curate was a little neater, a little sleeker and brighter--in a Spanish villa meets old downtown building kinda way. Lots of rustic influence, richly warm hues, and a wide range of comfy seating, including gorgeously detailed tables, and an impressively wide, inviting bar area. Both locations boast those dreamy tall ceilings that are indicative of old buildings rescued for the sake of a new crowd. Clearly, I was equally as drawn to the aesthetics as I was the menus.

At Curate, we had brunch -- the pisto manchego con huevo (fried egg over a potato puree with a smattering of insanely tasty roasted veggies) for me and he had the huevos estrallados (baked egg over chorizo and a bed of roasted peppers and onions).

Other places that remain on our list for the next trip are:

Cucina 24
Bull and Beggar
The Admiral
Nightbell (also a Katie Button restaurant--she is the brainchild behind Curate)
Limones
Rhubarb
White Duck Taco Shop
Buxton Hall
Posana
Tacobilly
Luella's BBQ
Smoky Park Supper Club

Also! We passed time between ceremony and reception at Pack's Tavern--a great bar downtown to take in a game (ahem, or in our case... to watch UT give OU the business).

Asheville has a strong brunch game too. We braved an early Saturday morning foray to Hole Doughnuts, rated Bon Appetit's 2016 best dessert--with very good reason. Their standard vanilla glazed was unreal.



Other breakfast/brunch suggestions we read a lot about:

Vortex Doughtnuts
Biscuit Head
Over Easy
Early Girl Eatery

There are a ton of coffee shops tucked here and there, and we found Trade & Lore at the top of a lot of lists. To be honest, we skipped into the location while strolling through downtown, stood for 5-10 minutes with no movement in the line, and debated that we weren't really hankering for coffee badly enough to keep waiting on staff that didn't seem super concerned with serving their clientele.

Some sweet shops that you absolutely need to try out are Sunshine Sammies (outrageous ice cream sandwiches) and Kiliwin's -- a magical chocolatier. Get the turtles and chocolate covered oreos. We went to The Hop for ice cream and it was fairly underwhelming. French Broad Chocolate was also at the top of a lot of lists, but we didn't make it there. Next time!





Finally... the brews.

We spent ample time at Burial, Wicked Weed and Sierra Nevada--all very different breweries, all fabulous atmospheres. Sierra Nevada is a bit south of town, so plan accordingly. It's basically a compound near the airport--there's a full restaurant, gift shop and you can tour the space (we didn't). Wicked Weed and Burial are much more quaint--walkable to each other, downtown, and dog-friendly (I think most--if not all--of the breweries in Asheville love them some pups). Grab a flight, settle in and chat with a stranger.






Sidenote: when I went on my girls' trip, we also visited the Funkatorium (Wicked Weed) and Hi-Wire, which I also remember both being great.

One more thing worth noting--some of the coolest little haunts in Asheville are bookstores. Malaprops is a fantastic stop downtown, full of the latest and greatest, along with lots of quirky gifts too. There's a coffee bar off to the side, and oh yeah--dog friendly too. I am over the moon that Asheville is such a pup-friendly locale!




One stop we didn't have time to make is the Battery Park Book Exchange & Champagne Bar. Literature and bubbles. No further explanation necessary.

In true hipster city form, Asheville has a ton of insta-worthy murals and artsy photo ops--lots of which are in the River Arts District.

As far as lodging goes, we chose to airbnb at a great cabin in the woods, just 15 minutes south of downtown, but if you've ever discussed Asheville in your life, you've heard of the Biltmore Estate (the wedding reception took place in one of the many, many buildings there and it was all kinds of magnificent). One more worth splurging on is the Grove Park Inn. Oh my gosh. Google it.



And if that's not enough for ya, feel free to check out my pinterest board for a little more inspiration!

 One final bit of advice, if I may...


 ...go with someone you absolutely love traveling with, because it makes sharing every ounce of the fun and beauty and deliciousness that much sweeter.

Up next: Austin and central Texas this week!

I like to think of myself as a pretty consistently thankful human. I keep my gratitude journal. Like any respectable Southern woman, I am diligent about sending my thank you notes. I routinely remind myself how good I've got it in this life.

That said, everyone knows this time of year is a glaring reminder to keep that perspective front and center. After this rollercoaster of a year, I've been especially reflective about the loads I have to be grateful for... big and small. In no particular order... here's a corralling of thirty little pieces of what makes me a happy, happy girl every single day:


I'm so very thankful for:

1. the utter joy of living in a city that suits me so perfectly, a place I keep falling in love with, five-and-a-half years after first skipping into town.
2. my crazy, wavy head of hair and the ability gift of only having to wash it but maybe twice a week. (oh. and dry shampoo).
3. my adorable Greek guy who is endlessly thoughtful and encouraging--while challenging me to be a better version of myself, making me laugh from my gut and always, always reaching over to hold my hand... and taking me to Costco.
4. the ability to step onto a plane and be home in Texas in a mere two hours--and the incredible people there who know me better than I know myself sometimes.
5. ...namely my amazing daddy-o and the tirelessly way he's loved me for more than thirty-one years. His dependable dry wit, token one-liners and boundless wisdom are way up there too.
6. the way I feel beautiful in an old pair of jeans, some Kendra Scott hanging from my earlobes, a pair of my broken-in Frye boots and that signature bold, red lip.
7. my battered, nine-year-old Macbook and the familiar pull of settling in with her to tap out my stories on its well-worn keys.
8. Whataburger taquitos.
9. coworkers who are just as dedicated to belly-laughing and cutting loose with each other, as they are to our cause.
10. the 24 years I had, learning from my magnificent Mimi. the graceful way she loved and served everyone around her and served as the utmost in examples of how to live this life on earth.
11. my insatiable curiosity, lifetime love for research and reading... and subsequent appreciation for Amazon prime.
12. the way my parents raised my brothers and me to glean our own views and opinions... and the way I can banter and debate with my dad about our differences now that I'm an "adult."
13. never having ever had a car payment. (let's take a moment to pray my 15-year-old BMW gets me through to springtime).
14. the safety net of my Monday night small group girls, their fiery hearts for Jesus, and the steadfast way we love and support each other through this crazy life.
15. the rush of that first downbeat, as everyone rises to their feet at a much-anticipated concert.
16. the generosity and authenticity my stepmom Jules has always been relied upon for--and her potato salad and cornbread stuffing recipes.
17. my overall health--and the fact that I have the means and ability to seek out help when I need it, and the phenomenal doctors in my corner, who are warm, endearing and ridiculously knowledgeable.
18. the gift of being crafty and creative--how it refuels my soul, and that I'm able to love on people around me with handwritten cards, homemade breads, or custom cross-stitched goodies.
19. getting wrapped up in a season of Saturdays of college football rivalries and upsets.
20. the effortless way I found my family in Nashville--the loyalty and love of incredible friends here who have opened their hearts and homes to me, and given my life a glittery light that I never expected to unveil.
21. quality Lululemon on sale.
22. getting lost in a Netflix marathon with aforementioned adorable Greek.
23. the solitude I found in my two years in one teensy, suburban apartment--recollecting myself and detouring off onto a much better path than I could've mapped out for myself.
24. being old (and I daresay wise) enough to let go of the bitterness I wore like a jacket, being known as the kid with a sick mom... and instead, truly being thankful for the good time I had with her--and the undeniable fact that I inherited her spunky attitude, insane sweet tooth, and unquestionable wearing of one's heart-on-one's sleeve.
25. the wave of relaxation that wraps me up at the conclusion of my restorative yoga class.
26. that ten-year-old fluff nugget who is as entertaining as she is loving. I am forever attached to that little dog.
27. the excitement of a new address! new house in a new neighborhood, and all of the requisite exploring and excitement that comes along with it.
28. my continued, yet questionable ability to operate on minimal sleep.
29. the syrupy sweet memories (and telltale naiveté) that my Norman Rockwell childhood and Texas roots forever etched in my heart.
30. the comfort, grace and direction that my faith steers my life. 

Best laid plans and all that, right?

I'd long been plotting a little 2016 recap post, because hey... I do it every year! I genuinely love looking back and beholding a smattering of my memories in one neat, sequential nook... no sifting through blurry candids or unedited versions necessary. It's always served as a little self-indulgent reflection and reminder of both the grandiose and mundane moments from the past twelve months, as opposed to being passable as quality post material for the masses, but you know... I guess I make the rules around here. Maybe I'll get around to it, maybe I won't.

I've finally come to the conclusion and relief that while sure, I blog, I don't know that I'll ever fall under the "blogger" category, you feel me? Nothing is carefully curated, nor scheduled consistently. You won't find a watermark on my clumsily snapped iphone photos. No shiny affiliate ads docked on the sidebar. Four-and-a-half months into the year and here I go, post numero uno--and a messy, somewhat disjointed summary of my inner thoughts for 2017 thus far, at that. Killing it over here...

See also: reason 437 why this girl could never rely on blogging to be her bread and butter.

Meanwhile. 

Thinking back to where I was a year ago, I feel peace... something I've yearned for, for as long as I can recall--a wish that varied in appearance from year to year, but something I'm so undeniably certain I have a firm grip now. While there's plenty that's unsettled in my life, and still some concern and anxiety surfacing now and again, in the depth of my core, I am swimming in a sense of contentment that I've never quite encountered. Some of it has been nurtured by age and experience, sure... but the bigger cause is due to being surrounded by some of the most incomprehensibly amazing people God has pieced together--and then somehow, someway, thankfully plopped into my life.

I want to dive into the concept of hindsight, but that treads dangerously near cliché phrasing, and I really try like hell to avoid that. But in the hope that warning you can relieve me of some of the responsibility, I'll go on:

it's absolutely mind-blowing to me how much you can learn about yourself if you just try. Change the scenery. Swallow your pride, listen to what you don't want to hear... be strong enough to listen to what you know is the truth. Dig up enough bravery to look back at yourself so you can measure how far you've come... or how much further you want to be. Then do whatever it takes to get there.

Fear held me back for such an embarrassingly long period--and it was a fear that I was unaware had permeated so many fibers of who I am--a fact that is even more humiliating, being that I've been referred to as "fearless" more than a handful of times in my life. By no means did I emerge from the rut solo or untarnished--I had more than a few people who thankfully and selflessly (and maybe even unknowingly) scooped up responsibility to get me back to being me. People who loved me enough to tell me what I didn't want to hear. People who put their own relationships with me on the line for the sake of somehow, someway breaking into my stubborn head. People who quite honestly yelled at me in an effort to have something sink in. People who dared to lift me up--over and over again--when I refused to hear it.

To all of the people in my tribe (again--overused, ridiculous word that is unfortunately the absolute best for this situation) who quite literally held me up,
who deftly countered my shallow defenses of someone who continually hurt me,
who have wiped the tears from my cheeks,
who have earnestly prayed for my tender heart, and promised there was a better tomorrow for me,
who knew when I needed the next generous pour of bota versus another unrelenting talking-to,
who feverishly attempted to convince me of my worth,
who've been invested and excited when I've encountered something good,
who patiently told me, "I love you, but you're wrong... and I'll still be here when it finally sinks in."
...I cannot thank you enough. It's not the slightest exaggeration that I am grateful daily for the depth of the way you've loved me.

I pour this out for so many reasons... it's been heavy on me, the gravity and peril of allowing fear and pain to pierce your actual identity. Gah, there is so, so much I have to figure out in this lifetime... and so much I'll never know. But maybe there's a truth you're ducking away from. Maybe you're the friend who desperately wants to pull your person out of something. Maybe you've been dancing your own charade as long as I did, and aren't even fully aware of it. There are countless faces to this, but fear is slapped across them all.

So much of this life is just the people at your side. There's a level of unparalleled authenticity that is unveiled when you discover the few souls who willingly go through your hell just to stick by you. The honest fact is that there are very few people you could reliably call on for absolutely anything in the world--and while the past few years have offered me the chance to drink up an immense amount about who I am and what I deserve, the most rewarding takeaway is knowing, unequivocally who is on my team.

And my gosh, I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Four years ago to the day, I was on a flight home to Nashville after sitting at my mom's bedside for a week and a half, watching her die. She was hardly recognizable anymore, face stony and expressionless, her lower legs amputated two and a half years prior, her sunken body cocooned in a twisted web of wires and tubes. After ten days of slow, but steady deterioration, I finally and reluctantly reasoned that no one knew exactly how much longer she'd struggle to remain on earth, but that those days and hours were dwindling. After resolving that our family planned only for an eventual private service, I made as much peace with my decision to trudge back to the life I'd begun building for myself, even going so far as to forgive myself with the excuse that she'd want me to move on with my life and not dwell. Ironically, she was stubborn even in death, clinging to life for nearly two weeks after entering hospice until eventually passing away early on the morning of Christmas Eve.


Our relationship was at best, complicated--nothing at all like those I witnessed my friends sharing with their moms. For decades, I was so internally angry at the MS that robbed me of having a mom, and masked it with one more straight A report card, one more home run, another feeble accomplishment all in the name of trying to control what I could never control. My futile attempts at making her smile could never heal her tormented, ailing body, but it honestly took more than 20 years (and a pinch of therapy) for me to truly absorb that.
 

In her absence, I am heartbroken still. Saddened for her colorful life that was crushed by a disease that was so horrific to watch unfold, I can truly never fathom what it'd be like to attempt fighting everyday firsthand, for over half your lifetime. But mostly, I am broken for the woman I never knew, and the relationship I never had. Missing what never was sometimes hurts most of all.
 
I often hear stories from her classmates and others who knew her as a kid--they tell me about how much of a spitfire she was: sharp-tongued and always laughing the loudest, adorable and endlessly sassy--akin to a Molly Ringwald in the same small town she and I both grew up in. I caught glimpses of that version of her as I was growing up, but never to the degree of which I hear strangers describe her. 
And yet, as distant as we always seemed to be, the tiniest shreds of her are undeniably woven within me: I'm an incessant gum popper and the habit unfailingly reminds me of riding in the passenger seat, next to her when she was still driving--the aroma of Extra wintermint wafting throughout the car. When I clear my throat, it sounds so much like her, it truly stops me in my tracks. If the sound wasn't emanating from my own throat, I'd look over my shoulder and expect to see her sitting there.

She's the one to blame for my insatiable taste for Mexican food, shameless love of 80s movies, and habit for turning the music up just a little bit more. Like her, I'm always the one laughing the loudest--a trait I really love. While there was an abundance of disconnect, in her own way, she fostered in me a desire to not settle--to always want more, laugh harder, live fuller, hope for a better day.

I don't have that heinous disease preventing me from living, like she always did. I strive to feel it all, to love so fiercely, to leave absolutely nothing unanswered.

I'll miss her forever, but with each passing year, the familiar ache is tempered ever so slightly, and in its place is growing a warmth and pleasure of knowing with utter certainty that she's so proud of who I've grown up to be, who I keep growing into everyday.
 

I love you, Mom. We miss you.

A few years ago, I began a tradition of documenting the highlights of what I'd gleaned from this little life of mine. Some of them are lighter and silly, while others are lessons sometimes learned through such struggle that they force themselves into the intricate weave of who I am as a human being.

If you care to go recap 29 and 30, please be my guest--and here goes with 31--a year I can say was unequivocally one of my fullest, most colorful and brimming with self-actualization. Gone is the anxiety about personal timelines and expectations passing me by, and what's nestled in instead is a deep-rooted relief, awareness, and grace for who I am and what I deserve. And an overwhelming appreciation for feeling like me again, for the first time in many, many years.

That said... take it from me:


1. Break up your bananas before you freeze them for smoothies and baking.
2. Trust your gut. If there's one thing you hone in on here, just cling to your intuition. Don't ever allow anyone to cause you to doubt yourself. As a kid, I always envisioned that with adulthood came wisdom and clarity, and so much more black and white--and in actuality, the water just gets murkier, the situations grayer. The key to staying afloat is being firmly grounded in who you are, unapologetic about what you want out of life, and resolute about who you can trust.
3. So many mental blocks can be alleviated by just being outside. Extreme temperatures be damned: step out, walk around, breathe deeply.
4. Working hard is the simplest way to really pave the way to earn respect. And aside from robbing you of sleep, over-preparing will never fail you.
5. (P)leather leggings are the ultimate game-changer.
6. Social media is a glorious beast--connect away with whoever you shall choose, but please... be cautious as to what you put out there.
7. My mimi's granddaughter, through and through: I get the absolute most fulfillment out of hosting people I love. Some of my favorite nights in life have concluded with a slew of sweet, goodbye hugs and a sink full of lipstick-stained champagne glasses. My best therapy comes in the form of sharing overflowing cheese plates with girlfriends, hearing their laughter drown out the sound of my turntable fired up in my tiny living room.
8. When you have a fantastic night, date, or workday--write something down about it. Even just a couple words. Remember what made you feel so wonderful at that exact time. Later, you can snap right back to that moment, and realize everything passes (good and bad), and if you're lucky, you can learn from it. You have to go through some of the rough in order to really have appreciation for the good.
9. Nine years in, and my feisty, little maltese is still my best friend in the whole world.
10. It's good for you to know a few things by heart--specifically your blood type, what exact shade of red lipstick works for you skin, and your car's oil weight (me? O+, clinique's matte crimson, and 5w-30).
11. Be front and center when your friends have babies--don't wait to be asked to come over, just show up with food, and hunker down on the couch next to her, prepared to fold tiny laundry and listen intently to topics you haven't experienced first-hand just yet.
12. Leaving your home spotless before you embark on a vacation is so, so very highly encouraged.
13. Take the time to use email filters.
14. Upon returning from a night out, here are your priorities: make-up wipe, a liter of water, four advil.
15. Take a tiny piece of home and place it where you see it everyday. The power something so seemingly simple has to wash away homesickness will blow you away (mine is a vintage map of Waco, framed in my living room, and the candle scent my Mimi forever had burning in her living room.)
16. So much of life is about meeting people where they are--understanding that what you want out of something (be it a project, a relationship, a learning experience, a vacation, etc) maybe isn't completely aligned with what someone else is seeking is a deeply mature skill to hone... and will go far in tempering emotions too.
17. Stop being intimidated by a budget. It can be a pretty empowering thing to take charge of your money. Also? Always put just a smidge more into your 401k than you initially think you should.
18. Do what you can to ensure your people know you love them. Sometimes that means impromptu babysitting, baking a surprise, calling them out of nowhere... and sometimes that means listening silently, offering "I don't know what to say, but you know that I'm here for you."
19. Stop challenging your gas gauge. "Six miles to empty" is a lie.
20. If you program the radio station's number in your phone, you and your nimble fingers are far more likely to win the concert tickets.
21. Document the exact months of the year you traditionally have X appointments--this makes it painfully easy to schedule your eye exam, teeth cleaning, vet appointment when a new year rolls around.
22. It's okay to not always be able to identify precisely what you need at any moment. You'll get there. At the risk of sounding cliche, and while patience is one of my biggest struggles, I've learned that so much of life is about the "getting there."
23. Someone you encounter today is having a much harder day than you are. Perspective is one of the most rewarding things we can grasp. Just be kind.
24. I've changed my tune about threading--it still hurts like a bitch, but no other method is as precise and lasts quite as long, so... suck it up and just do it. I mean, you know you're onto something when guys are complimenting how great your eyebrows look.
25. Home is more about who you're with than where you are. And y'all know how much Texas is in my veins. I will forever be a small-town Texas girl, but Nashville has been so, so good to me--and so much of that is because of the incredibly magnificent people who have become my family here. I will forever be grateful for that.
26. I once read Chrissy Teigen reference how, in the midst of her crazy, hectic life, she strives to floss everyday because it gives her some semblance of consistency. I love this... and I love my weekly routine: every Sunday, I try to go to church, do my nails and a face mask, spend time outside, and bake something. I try to send at least one handwritten letter each week too... you'd be amazed about how much being a creature of habit can keep you feeling aligned and fruitful.
27. Sometimes the only way to cope is firing up Spotify and curating a playlist to reflect exactly how you're feeling in that moment. Also? This is a fantastic thing to do for your friends.
28. Stop waiting for someone to reach out to you, but also take inventory on your relationships--while friendships evolve, when they become completely one-sided, it's time to reevaluate. And that's okay.
29. Handle the blade of your Ninja blender ever so gingerly. (I continue to slice my fingertips on a weekly basis, because well, I'm impatient and the clumsiest).
30. Buy the pre-peeled garlic.
31. Stop saying yes to things and people you really don't want to say yes to. This might sound a little brash, but this opens you up to more of what you want to do. Being known as a person of resolve is admirable and earns respect. People appreciate knowing where you stand, and you'll feel more alive by being authentically attached to the choices you've made.




This portion of the year forces so much introspection... I'm fully feeling my newly-turned age, reminiscing about the memories of my mom and Mimi, swimming through the ever-reliable holiday rush. The Avett Brothers said it best: "if I live the life I'm given, I won't be scared to die." And heading into 2017, I feel so fortunate to be able to write the next page. And the one after that... and to keep learning, and loving on people and growing into who I'm supposed to be.

One little day at a time.

The last month of my thirties was marked by all of the celebrations: the requisite birthday shindigs, with a side of revving up for the holidays too. And so, so much champagne.

November is traditionally my golden month: autumn is firmly in place, my birthday is at the end of the month, Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday... it's just unquestionably, the best thirty days of the year for me. December is much too bustly and anxiety-ridden, but November? November is all mine.

And for the highlights... I've upped my fundraiser game significantly in 2016--and had a blast at Taste of Nashville with friends I've grown closer to in 2016--and helped with Our Kids Hammer Down race early in the month. The dreaded election came and went, and we all held our collective breath for the duration of a Tuesday night--luckily, I was tipping back the bubbles at a surprise bridal shower I helped throw for one of my best friends that evening, so we had ample distraction from the circus. An obscene number of hours was spent skipping around my kitchen, prepping (that damn green bean casserole) for a handful of different Friendsgivings. I logged the last few outdoor runs of the season (thirty-one years and still not a morning person, so that ain't happening before work)--thankful the temperature and daylight savings time offered to be on my side for a bit longer. My sweet, sweet friends spoiled the hell out of me with--count 'em--four birthday parties. And I rounded it all out with the loveliest Thanksgiving here in Nashville with my sweet friend Morgan, and her adorable family.

All in all? Exactly what I needed. November was the proverbial bow on top of a pretty charming year, highlighted by friends who have thankfully and effortlessly become my family, showering me with their love, depth, laughs, and endless loyalty. "Friends" just seems like too hollow and generic a word for the category of people I've been surrounded by since moving her. Cheesiness, be damned: I am so, so thankful--every single day, I'm thankful.

At 31, I am still hopelessly in love with this town, its quirks, its magnetism--but undoubtedly, the absolute best element of my life are the people who I'm so unimaginably fortunate, love me as hard as they do.

Come at me, 31... I'm so ready for you.

Today, I'm a mere month shy of 31. The theme of the past several weeks has been go, go, go. I haphazardly dipped my toe in the dating pool, kept trucking along with Junior League and Special Olympics events, and took some time out for--what else--live music. Pilgrimage fest was even better than I expected it would be (Langhorne Slim, City and Colour, and Kacey Musgraves being the highlights--in addition to the 300+ folks we got registered to vote!), and a return trip to ACL was just what my soul needed... so much of my favorite music in my favorite city, right smack dab in the middle of a week with all of the people who know me best. I spent a lot of quality time--usually over Mexican cuisine--with my Pops (and visited with mom too), and laughed and wined with my Baylor friends as if no time has passed since I left Texas four years ago. Hockey season returned (!), and all at once we found ourselves basking on the porch, soaking up the chilly nights and dewy mornings of a changing season as our pool days concluded. My girlfriends have been a welcomed, constant fixture on weeknights and weekends alike, as we find any excuse to make grandiose events out of chili nights and debate-watching parties. I excitedly hopped on board a spin bike for the first time in months, as my friend opened a brand spanking new studio on the east side. I also ventured back to Vanderbilt to work my fifth year at Reunion--which is always a ton of fun for me, reigniting all of excitement of playing event manager, if only for one night.

Working out and sleep took a backseat, but I still managed to somehow get exactly what I needed. Crazy to think that in just a handful of weeks, a new year--of promise and challenges, growth and so much laughing--will be at my feet. Until then, I'm (planning on) taking time to just lay a little low.

But then? Bring it on 31.

A couple times a year, usually in early spring and early fall, I begin sensing this insatiable itch. A slow-rolling anxiety for a shift. It sneaks in subtly, and my constant breakneck pace overpowers it just enough that I blindly dismiss it as a need for something else: another project or maybe a haircut or to delve into a plan to get distracted. But when I strip away the mental nonsense, take a breather and consciously reflect for a sec--it dawns on me.

Of course: time to go home.

Life in my hometown is so reliable, so constant. My family still being there is the obvious, foremost reason for my venturing back, but the routine of Waco is as consistent as it is sleepy. Y'all know how much I love the life I've built in Nashville, but the sweet predictability of life in central Texas gives me the recharge I crave every few months.

My most recent trip back (with the exception of trekking to ACL) was by most counts unremarkable... a blur of backroads and breakfast tacos, big city skylines and having a front row seat to all the stars in the sky. But this is what I love and what I crave. It's what rejuvenates me: that the more things change, the more they stay the same.



Home is the same series of errands and meals--down to sitting in the same places, at the same tables, in the same restaurants. At HEB, I scoop up Shiner to share with my Pops, and my favorite Texas Pecan coffee to bring back to Nashville. At Spice, it's Circle E candles and tops and dresses I can't find here. I always read the Wacoan and Texas Monthly cover-to-cover before nodding off in my childhood bedroom (to be awoken right at sunrise by the aggressive light pouring through the east-facing window... something I hated in high school, yet have come to love as an adult). I visit mom at the cemetery, usually with flowers in one hand and a half-and-half tea from Bush's in the other.



As a kid in Texas, you learn the backroads as soon as you slide behind the driver's wheel (funnily enough--my dad was asking me for names of roads when I was home... and I reminded him that I've been gone for over four years). A day into my trip, I excitedly raced to Houston to stay with my childhood best friend, a three-plus-hour drive from my parents', connected by two-lane highways and farm-to-market roads that are as memorable to me as if I still drove them as frequently as I did as a college girl. 77 to 7, 6 to 290, 45 to 3--GPS utterly unnecessary. With my pup assuming her position in my lap, spotify blaring, and the familiar stream of main street strips zooming past us, the roadtrip melted away and in no time, we were sipping on Shiner, laughing on the patio with my best friend since I was 11 (and her hysterical husband, who just as effortlessly as she did in fifth grade, has become family to me).



We watched football and feasted on steaks, sizzling from the grill. We swapped stories on high school friends and commiserated about politics. Lauren and I talk nearly everyday, but there's just no substitute for face time with your best friend--the one who knows all your secrets and loves you anyway. Twenty years of inside jokes and encouragement, bitter loss and heartache, the knowing side glances and uncontrollable laughs. I've never called Houston "home" but make no mistake--home is absolutely defined by the people in your life. A little piece of my heart absolutely lives in Houston.


I spent Sunday at ACL (much more on that later), and returned back to Waco, groggy but so very content. The next few days held minimal plans, which allowed me more time to just immerse myself in the small-town life I left. Isn't it funny--those things that make us almost desperate for a change of pace, are the exact things you dream of and cling to when you get to go back?






Home is roads peppered with monikers like "Bullhide Creek" and "Pecan Ridge" and "Longhorn Trail." It's I35 being perpetually under construction, and Blue Bell in every fathomable flavor, and the fact that it takes 15 minutes to get anywhere you need to go. It's running into your high school teachers and friends' parents at the grocery store, knowing which snakes will hurt you, and the flood of nostalgia at seeing the stadium lights flicker on, as the sun sinks behind the visitor's side of the field.

It's the farmer's cows grazing in the pasture next door, gargantuan pick-up trucks, and huevos rancheros with my dad after we walk his Airedale, Ben on the Cotton Belt Trail at the crack of dawn. It's a smattering of leopard paws--my high school mascot--painted on the residential roads that serve as the perimeter to the schools. My non-Texan friends get a kick out of my pride, but there's really no explaining it. I liken it to a time warp--little has changed in my teensy hometown of one stoplight since well before I left it in my own rearview.

It was a pretty fantastic trip for me. I ate too much whataburger, lit up at the sight of Baylor's campus (repeatedly), and sat with my dad at the vet with Ben (to receive his next anti-venom shot after an encounter with a rattlesnake last month, no less).  I spent Monday night laughing with my dear friends from my Baylor career days, cooked dinner for my parents, and successfully got my dad into Narcos.


After a tumultuous return trip (diverted flight back to Love Field after a "hydraulic emergency" and the rockiest plane landing I've ever experienced), I hit the pillow for a three-hour nap, heart so overwhelmingly full.