the best brussels

Fall sometimes reminds me of getting into a bath tub to soak in lovely hot water that very quickly turns cold. Why do people make small water heaters? That's the big question. And with regard to Fall, why does it have to be so short lived? Just when you get used to all the gourd decorations and leaves with their sassy red and yellow garb and have enjoyed a pumpkin spice latte or two, suddenly it's salted caramel hot chocolates and commercials with Santa buying toys at Petsmart. I do love Christmas, but winter gets this long kick of being from December-around April, and Fall gets like two months of glory. Maaaaaybe some of September, definitely October, and definitely November.

Somehow it's already November 8th, and yesterday the leaves were just beginning to turn. My resolve is to make Fall last longer by putting pumpkin in everything. And by making lots of sauteed brussels sprouts. Here's a thought about brussels sprouts. Is it possessive? Brussels' sprouts? Do these sprouts belong to Brussels? As in Belgium? Or are we talking about a totally different thing...Regardless, brussels sprouts have the potential to be amazing or awful. The key is cutting off the butts that tend to be bitter and then sauteing the rest.

The Best Brussels

You'll Need:

Fresh brussels sprouts (the farmer's market has them by the tubs here in DC)

Olive oil

Sea salt

Pepper

A smattering of bacon bits

Cut off all the butts to these little cabbages and toss them into a pan with some a small smattering of bacon bits (just enough to give them flavor), about a tbsp of olive oil, salt and pepper, and (optional) one clove of fresh garlic or a sprinkling of garlic powder.

Cook for about 6 minutes on low and place cover on the pan, shaking the pan every minute or so. As soon as these guys have browned undersides, they are ready. Try one and if it's tender on the inside, it's good to go. 

When I made some the other night, we ate them with roasted rosemary potatoes. Delish. You should definitely do it. P.s. - the truth about brussels sprouts. Because Wikipedia knows everything I don't. Happy weekend, everyone. Oh, and for your Friday enjoyment, these are pretty giggle worthy.

reviews-day tuesday: a successful pinterest project

This is a review of sorts. It's the necessary type of review that either thumbs up or thumbs down Pinterest project. Unfortunately, Pinterest is constantly intriguing but often leaves me dissatisfied with my version of the product. Is it just me? Maybe I'm missing a crafty gene? It can't be me all the time. It's that Pinterest simplifies not-simple things, roping you into a project and convincing you that even YOU can do this...which absolutely will not turn out like the picture. Regardless of these disappointments, I have found a goodie in this Pin, and I invite you to DIY following the steps below. You will need:

• An old t-shirt (or in this case cami)
• Scissors
• An extra pair of hands 

Hope it works for you! It's a small headband, and I'll probably make a bigger one on my second attempt. Also - I walked by these today on my way to work, and I thought you'd like them...Happy Tuesday!

all you need...

Today's post is to stir up the giddiness in you...and to incite a few tears. For more details on this blessed event, click here.

have you come to sing pumpkin carols?

I wish there were pumpkin carols. Fall carols, if you will. I know all this talk about pumpkins is making people sick; it's all anyone talks about. Especially the single working women, the young moms, and the newly marrieds. What is it with this demographic and our obsession with everything pumpkin related? I'm pretty sure my grandmother enjoyed baking with it, but I don't know if she ever talked about it. She definitely didn't Instagram about it...

But with the twerking and the non-government and the chaos that has ensued as a result of both, we have to have something to fall back on for excitement. So herein lies something for you to bake.

I made it today, and it was simple and delicious and sugar-less. The recipe calls for sugar, but don't feel any obligation. I substituted for pure maple syrup. It should look like this below. And your coffee and your dog should look like this.

 Enjoy!

reviews-day tuesday: a shock top a day...

  

I don't presume to be any sort of connoisseur of beer or alcohol in general - I can only claim my dear sweet love of it. The only thing that is occasionally better than a beer is a beer that has a cider kick to it: I present to you, Shock-Top Honeycrisp Apple Wheat. When you pass this beer at the store, you do a double take because the words "Honeycrisp" with "Apple" and a splash of the color red on the side of the bottle are incredibly eye catching. So you pick it up and study the logo with all the little apples and consider how great it might go with the dessert you're serving tonight.

But then Woodchuck and Angry Orchard dance around in your peripheral vision over in their confined little ciders-only club, questioning: "how are we any different than that 'not-cider' over there?" So here's the deal. My husband will choose Jameson if given the option over most any alcoholic beverage. And if he picks a beer, it's going to be as Hoppy as possible so that I won't want to share it. However, he requests this Apple Wheat. It may have more to do with the fact that Harris Teeter sells these in a 6 pack, but doesn't have it priced in their system, so every time we buy some, they ring it up for $4.99....but still. Just. Delicious.

It's a beer you crave and that quenches your thirst at the same time. You can't not drink it and smile. This beer does not mess around with inbetweensies. It is both beer AND cider and fantastic. 

With that, I'm off to buy a pack. Happy Tuesday; enjoy a throw back:

i apologize...

...because I do not have children, and I cannot fill my blog with their latest isms, cutest sayings ever, recipes for making the best baby food, or how saggy my breasts are after nursing....and because stories about my dog fill the blog holes that should probably be filled with baby stuff at this point in my life as a woman.

because I am 25% crafty instead of 99%, so I cannot fill my blog with the things I D-I-Y every single day. Only the DIYs I'm inspired by once every couple months.

because I do not care about politics, and I cannot tell you what opinions you should have about such things.

because I am no longer "there", and my "here" stories must suffice, despite how seemingly boring America is (clearly...or else why would people only start blogs once they start traveling?...cough-me-cough.)

because I do not know have blog give aways...let's be real here...no one knows who i am right now.

because I post videos of taylor swift covers that I happen to be covering.

And so for now, enjoy my chatter of good music, good food, good people, and the good life. And sometimes - the not so good life. It's almost Friday, and that is very exciting.

A song for today:

as summer ends...

The past few weeks have been lonely. Not in an "awwwww" sort of way. It's creates a time of some reflection and lots of thinking. It also allows for enjoyment of simple things like pulling out sweatshirts again, the last few fresh tomatoes of summer, watching my broccoli babies become adolescents, cooler mornings, having options for what to do with my weekend afternoons but feeling very little pressure to start the day before I really want to. As I wait for my husband to come home from school, work, or DC Habitat, I get a chance to consider the following things:

• cooking full meals can be over rated.
• it makes so much more sense to get almost everything you own at yard sales
• if I had a bottomless supply of underwear, I might be completely happy.
• I will miss summer, but sights like these at the grocery store are still heart warming:

the one where I do something crafty

I think just like there's a time of the month for more chocolate than usual, there's a time of the month for craftiness. I don't know when that time is or what inspires it, but the last couple weeks, I've been tapping into the creative lobes of my brain. Most recently it came from a desire to have curtains and lamps that were cute and not expensive. So I dug through my collection of random linens and found a tapestry I once bought at Anthropologie to serve as a cover for my duvet when I was in college. After I got married, it was a nice tablecloth. But then I needed curtains to cover our very unsightly closet. So after choppin em up and yelling at my sewing machine for a good three hours, we have a couple nice panels that I can use for a closet now and one day for actual, real, non-basement windows. They aren't half bad. Philip likes them too, I'm sure, even though his first reaction was "this room is way too girly now..." Here is the process documented in case you'd like to see how it's done (note Mina's help):

reviews-day tuesday

Welcome to a new series. To keep Tuesdays alive and interesting and readers engaged. You want to know what is worth your time, money, investment. I can help you with that. And we'll try to keep it relevant.

Once in 12 stars, I get a free drink from Starbucks, thanks to my well-used gold card. Typically this means I buy the biggest, most delicious, recently-added drink menu item. Or sometimes I just go with my gut and get a venti iced coffee, unsweetened. Today though the PSL signs sparked my interest - just what we need in this life, another acronym - and although I did not desire a Pumpkin Spice Latte on this particular Tuesday, I did notice that a few sister drinks had been added to the latest and greatest Fall drink list. The one pictured above is a chocolate chai latte. Chocolate + chai + latte. Three words that seem like they should go together deliciously. Two of those, rearranged in two different ways, are two peas in a pod. Chocolate + latte (mocha) and chai + latte. Both drinks melt in your mouth, especially on cold days, but mixed all together (minus the espresso), the drink is less than impressive. I was disappointed, but not as disappointed as if I had actually paid for it. Stick with your chai or your mocha or your PSL or that other thing you get at coffee shops - coffee. Chocolate chai leaves much to be desired. Hence the half-full cup that got thrown away shortly after this picture was taken above.

top 12

I don't often indulge in Vh1 shows of any kind mostly because I didn't have access to Vh1 for the last several years of my life. But then you're flipping through channels with your homemade margarita and a big bowl of pasta with a lot of pesto, and you can't help but unmute the tv. Especially when it's the top 100 songs of the 00's. My jams. I grew into the person I would BECOME as a result of this music. Change your life, change your day, change your attitude, change your mind music. Music I fell in love to, music I wept to, music I grew to, music I handed to people with confidence that they too would be changed because of, music that can only be appreciated when hearing at just the right moment, usually really loud, sometimes at a wedding or on a dance floor or in your car or on a plane with your headphones in. I can't show 100 videos on my blog, but some were so formative in my music appreciation that I have to post the most epic 12. Please take a moment to enjoy at least 25 seconds of each song. I will say - not all of these are songs were my favorite or the best, but they played a huge role in ages 12-20 for Stephanie Parker, and it is likely that some of them did the same for you.

1. Beautiful Day:
The heart is a bloom. You hear this and feel like someone who finally gets poetry after never understanding anything William Blake or Lord Byron was saying in your high school English classes. I can't really explain the power of U2; even a sarcastic, cynical, pop-music loving middle schooler like me heard this song and was moved to tears. It has continued to stir something up in me every time I've heard it since, and I never get tired of it. It reminds me of growing up and learning to embrace life as is.

if it has a dot com, it's legit

It DOES have a dot com, mind you. ".com" status makes it the real thing (so no judging the legitimacy of my blog), which means you have to stop and pay homage to the earners of this rite: the dogs. Here is an appropriate song to accompany you through this post...

It's National Dog Day. As I speak, my husband is chasing my furry child around and around the couch. I already really appreciated their ongoing lighthearted banter where Mina fakes ferocity and then reluctance to wrestle when Philip goes in for the kill. But National Appreciation days call for a moment to stop and reflect on the honored ones, and so today I'm considering what it is about this supposed "non-soul" that I call friend that makes me swoon.

Maybe it's because she knows me so well. Or maybe it's because I know her so well. Or maybe it's the unexpected things she does that make me look behind those brown eyes and think there's something else there. She has a lot of depth. She gets her feelings hurt, she pouts, she gets excited, she's determined, she's cautious. She expresses all of these feelings nearly every day. I don't really know how she's able to do that and still not be a human, but somewhere inside of her I think she has these empathetic human feelings because of how much she loves me and Philip.

It could also be the times that she just sits with me. I either love to be still or be really active, and she can appreciate both of these activities on a moment's notice.

I mean, I think most of the time she would be curled up in a sleepy ball regardless of whether or not I at home, sick on the couch (below) or doing work on my computer (above)...It just seems that she chooses these moments at just the right perfect time that I can't help but think they might be her faithful way of communicating "I only have puppy eyes for you".

I'm definitely not ready for the b word, but when I find myself stroking her ears and watching her sleep, I wonder if maybe she's serving a purpose for both providing one of the truest friendships of my life, while also priming me for a future of being "mom". I don't know, but I'm enjoying the fact that she's mine. In honor of Happy Dog Day, enjoy one of the nominated best animated short films from the 2013 Academy Awards. Your hearts will swell.

heavy

I've tossed it around in my mind again and again whether or not to write about this, but it's one of those things that has come back to me so many times that I feel like it would be less me to NOT talk about it. A lot has happened recently. There has been a lot of hurt and sorrow in the lives of people dear to me. Recently is relative, but I'm dating back over the last several months. You know it'll happen to you one day, and so you sort of prepare your heart for the inevitable passing of someone you love. But even though there's a resignation in your heart, there is no adequate, tied-up-with-a-bow preparation you can make when it actually, finally occurs. Because really - it wasn't SUPPOSED to happen to you. These sorrows sit on my shoulders, and unfortunately it's not even the same sorrow that weighs on the friend to which it happened. They have their own pain, and it's difficult realizing you can't lessen the pain of your loved ones by deciding to also carry it.

My Facebook feed is inundated with calls for prayer, posts of condolences on this or that person's wall, news of tragedy. An amazing guy and mutual family friend died during a hiking trip in Switzerland. A friend's mom passed away this weekend. My sister is recovering from cancer and the side effects of treatment. One of the teenage girls from my time as a youth intern has had several surgeries for her cancer. A good friend's younger brother is in treatment for cancer. My brother in law's high school friend passed away suddenly a few weeks ago. I think of my grandmother when I spoke to her on the phone the other day of my grandfather who passed away in 2012. I asked how she was doing, and she said, "it hasn't gotten get any easier". It breaks me into pieces.

It makes me tired and heavy and uncertain what to do with it. There's only so much sad you can feel, particularly when it doesn't literally directly affect you. It's not my mom, it's not my body, it's not my brother, some are not even my friends. But how do you keep going when you're at work, reading the text that conveys the recent unfortunate event that occurred? It's not my burden to carry, right?

Honestly, I think empathy is a gift. Right alongside compassion. It's this treasure you pass along to the ones who are hurting. An offering of "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry it with you". Scott Sauls made a great point in a sermon shortly after one of the aforementioned tragedies that happened in Nashville. He talks about how Jesus promises He will never take us through a valley He hasn't also walked through Himself.

And then there's the beauty in it. So many sweet reminders of Grace and outpourings of Peace. The body of Christ clearly evident, doing the work we are supposed to do. And this promise of what comes after. The "fairy tale" of sorts. The happily ever after that you thought only existed in Disney movies.

Scott also mentions in his sermon that when he was younger he was convinced he was dying of a terminal illness. And as he was grieving this impending death, his mentor asks him to put his fear in the context of the worst case scenario. He says, "What the worst possible thing that could happen if you do die within the next year? The worst thing that could happen is that you'd immediately be transformed and transferred into the direct and immediate presence of Jesus, and begin a life of everlasting bliss in the complete absence of things like death, mourning, crying, pain, and sickness. That's the WORST thing that could happen to you."

I have to be honest that I struggle with similar fears in my heart - fears about my family, about myself, about people I love and death in general. And Scott's summation of heaven - a place with which I've never been particularly intrigued - brings about a new sense of grief for the scary things that could be and that which is unknown. There's this new sense of grieving with hope. It's like this spiritual, interim bear hug He gives us when nothing else makes sense. It doesn't fix anything by any means, but it softens the blow - the slap in the face of being in a really broken world.

So to my friends who are grieving: the human heart longs for companionship in every emotion. I grieve right along with you, and my hope is that all of the prayers being continually lifted by those of us who love you will carry you through this valley.

a bit of wisdom

Two things. gnats. and art museums.

Neither of which I understand, but both of which I have learned to combat. First. I have to share with you something that has changed my life, and I have been changed for the good.

Gnats are a common problem in any home, but especially the homes that hoard farmer's market produce for longer than than its life span. Buy less you say? I think not! Summer will over before you know it. You at least gotta keep it around even if you can't eat it fast enough...This is the false logic that keeps these pesky intruders fat and happy and PHEW if I can keep up with them.

I have found a way though. Pinterest occasionally doesn't totally fail me, and this is one of those times. The key to all good things in life is vinegar - any type, but for this problem, apple cider vinegar does the trick. 

Mix about 1/4 of a cup of apple cider vinegar with ~ 4 squeezes from your go-to dish washing detergent (we use the cheap stuff - Safeway brand lemon flavor...flavor? scent...). Cover tightly with aluminum foil, poke 5 or so little-bit-bigger-than-a-gnat size holes in the foil, and leave in a gnat-frequented place on your counter. We leave ours for up to 3 weeks, and it captures those little suckers like a Venus flytrap. The idea is that the vinegar attracts the gnats, and they get stuck and die in the detergent. We have since caught all of our gnats, and the problem is diminished.

Art museums. There is nothing wrong with them. Except if you don't have the patience or sophistication to appreciate all that they offer. I went to the National Gallery with Philip on Wednesday, and although there are many fascinating exhibits (and I admit we've still only made it through the west side in our two visits), it taps into this guilt complex where I feel obligated to view every single piece, read all the little plaques below each painting, and have an emotional reaction. Philip says walking through galleries with me is like going with a 6 year old. I'm always onto the next room and painting, and so he insists on holding my hand. And asking me questions like "can you find your favorite painting that you would put in your house someday?" or "I bet you can't find the oldest dated piece"...he's going to be a really good dad.

In order to combat art galleries, I've found that the most helpful thing is a chocolate bar happy hour (like the one we visited: Co Co. Sala) immediately after. Philip decided that in the heat and due to the timeliness of a certain monthly event, Co Co. Sala would be a most appropriate remedy. It was. I highly recommend it, especially the Onyx, a dark chocolate mousse with vanilla creme brulee, salted caramel, and crispy chocolate pearls all layered on top of a brownie; as well as the Fetish, a delicious cocktail consisting of fresh strawberries, chocolate-infused vodka, strawberry foam, and a chocolate dipped berry. It was just as delicious as I've imagined every time I pass it on the F St. And perfect for any weary, hormonal female.

Philip, Mina, and I are off on a camping adventure with friends this weekend to Old Rag in Shenandoah National Park. We shall have many stories upon our return. 

stifling

It is. Everywhere. So hot. And I love it. So much so that these moments I spend indoors, I can only look longingly out the window at what could be if only I wasn't stuck in a cubicle. Trickles of sweat down my brow make me smile. Not worrying about jeans being too tight...just prancing around in a summer dress. Jeans are always too tight, you know. I try a bigger size, and it doesn't matter. Summer, however, is so wonderful. Nothing tastes as good as in the summer. Tomatoes. Iced coffee. Strawberries. Lemonade. Water. Zucchini.

The stifling feeling comes in when you can't embrace it. It is stifling to walk around the city in business casual and dread going into the office sweaty or at all. To not have pool nearby with open access during the hottest parts of the day. To walk around without bug spray and expect to not get bitten. To buy produce at the grocery store instead of the farmers market. To keep the air as low as possible inside so that going outside is like stepping into a sauna.

That's not to say we should all leave our windows open during the summer, get rid of air conditioning, quit our jobs, not buy deodorant, plan to build a pool in our backyards [tiny patios], boycott all grocery stores no matter their convenience, and make all jeans into cut offs.

Do go outside though. With your dog. Or baby. Or an old fashioned. Or all three. And be prepared for sweat. This season is precious, and it doesn't have to be stifling.

Then again - they don't call these the dog days of summer for nothing. We can all learn something from Mina.

I leave you with a song of summer:

a walk through my senses

I used to think memories were best made in pictures, because they capture the 1000 words you wish you could say about what happened, but I don't know if I totally believe this anymore. Many would argue that this is true - that pictures are the best way to remember. But then you meet my husband who has a really bad memory and would just as soon not have his photo taken, and I wonder how he keeps his memories intact.

There are, however, these other tangible things that I forget about until they pop up again that are wrapped up nicely in particular parts of my brain and are just as exciting to find as the pictures buried in a drawer/iCloud someplace. Sounds. Smells. Tastes. The way something feels. Other things you see besides pictures.

I can tell you what nearly everything I encounter reminds me of. Except for the new things. But even the new things remind me of old things.

Whenever I smell fresh cut grass, I think of my backyard on 309 Pate Ave in Dyersburg, TN, being pushed by my dad on the swing set he made. When I smell pecan trees, I am transported to my grandmother's front yard in the summers where I played. When I smell just-opened shower curtains or anything made of that kind of plastic, it reminds me of setting up our above-ground pool every summer as a kid and unwrapping the new pool liner.

Name a song. Any song. "Wonderwall?" Young Life club. Third Eye Blind's "Never Let Me Go"? First time I heard it: making my bed when I was in the 4th grade and listening to it on the radio when it first came out. Madonna's "Like a Little Prayer"? Dancing on the bar at King Tut's in Knoxville, TN at my bachelorette party with my bridesmaids. John Denver's "Country Roads"? Driving to Colorado with my youth group in high school. "The Sound of Music"? My grandmother's living room where I watched it and ate mini chicken pot pies multiple times a week.

Whenever I sleep on jersey cotton sheets, I think of my older sister who used to swear by them, and I got to sleep on them any time I was at her house.

When I eat peanut M&Ms, I transport to my grandma's house in IL.When I eat macaroni and cheese, I think of my highly adored babysitter who would make it every day during the summer when my parents were at work.

When I see certain floor tiles in office buildings, I immediately go back to the  doctor's office where I often went and hated as a little kid. When I see blue/green Toyota Tercels, I think of riding in the sister's old car and feeling so cool when she was in college and I was about 5.

Pictures don't always do memories the justice that memories themselves do...

I've got soul but I'm not a soldier

If you and I take a car trip together, you'll either be horrified or electrified by my musical choices. I don't even know that I'd call what I jam to "music" so much as...loud words. Either way I have an addiction to these loud words no matter how obnoxious. I've been doing a lot of traveling lately to places, but this past weekend was the first where I got free reign to play whatever I wanted as loud as I wanted. Naturally, here were my top picks. Enjoy my attempt to reinvigorate this most reputably miserable day of the week. Happy Monday!

I'm only providing the link, so click at your own risk, because - let's be real - if you're actually going to view them (ok, even if you're just listening), they're pretty ridiculous. Some of these are some serious throwbacks to the early 2000s.

"Get Back": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37aG0c23Gx4

"Something Like That": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSThNgur0m4 

"Memories": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lSB4NT5JVA

"Show Goes On": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rmp6zIr5y4U

"Money Maker": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9Op2YQ7yyU

And, finally, if you really want to know what it's like to rock out with me...

Welbourne

When you live in the city, you sometimes forget how the rest of the world isn't really a city. Then you leave and it's quiet and there are no noises at all when you're going to sleep and it's like being in a fairy tale. I grew up in that fairy tale but for most of my adolescence thought it was completely contrary to the way we were all supposed to be living. As much as I enjoy my moments here in a city surrounded by people, people, people, it only takes about 1 commute on the metro being crammed like cattle into metro cars with too many other strangers with morning breath that I decide I need to smell fresh cut grass and distant cows mooing.

Philip and I got that opportunity a few weeks ago for our anniversary/birthday celebration in the hills of mahvelous Vuh-gin-yuh. Some friends recommended it to us, and it far exceeded our expectations. One should never judge a book by its website because while there is much to be desired from the Welbourne site, guests arrive at the beautiful old charmer, stunned and eager to explore. We arrived, and a few other bed and breakfast guests were lounging on the porch surrounded by a variety of mixed breed hunting dogs, all of whom jumped up and barked in unison, properly announcing our arrival. They approached Mina to give her a thorough sniff, and Philip and I went to explore.

Explore, you must. It's a maze inside this place. I literally stepped back into the 1860s as soon as I pushed open the heavy, paint-peeled door. There were long, paper thin area rugs covering the creaky floor boards in every room, generations of family members pictured in antique frames hanging from the walls, deep couches with torn, misshapen cushions in the three different sitting rooms and library, bottles of wine and various liquors displayed on a large corner table along with dozens of mismatched tumblers, 8 or 9 bedrooms laden with all sorts of canopy beds sloped or leaning in concordance with whatever the old floors decided to do (depending on the room)...

Mina followed me, unashamed by her unorthodox, canine self. This place was made for her, and she made herself right at home, searching every room just as I did, panting as she went.

The afternoon was exactly as I hoped it would be - relaxing and easy. Storm clouds began to roll in, but Philip and I set up our washers game nonetheless in the front lawn and split our time between playing and throwing a frisbee for the dogs (one of which actually became Mina's friend...they were about the same age/size...except she looked like a fox).

It was all fun and games until the ceiling caved in in the music room. We were the only guests there (everyone else had gone to dinner), and the owners were still out and about. Philip went to see about the crash, and, indeed, there was a mess.

We told the owner, Nat Morrison, when he arrived a short time later, clad in suspenders and a suit vest and a dress shirt with holes in the elbows. He pulled up in his pickup truck, smoking a beautiful old pipe and sat with us on the porch, holding a nice glass of bourbon iced tea. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes when we told him about the ceiling. Apparently these things have happened over the years, as one would expect. He asked us what we wanted to drink, and I said bourbon -neat, and Philip was indecisive. Mr. Morrison asked him what he would order if he was in a bar. Philip didn't answer quickly enough, and Nat got impatient and said "you'd better come make it yourself." He's a character. We sat chatting on the porch about the history of the house and how confounded technology is these days (I had my iPhone nearby) until the rain moved in, and Philip and I left to go eat dinner at a nearby pub called "Hunter's Head Tavern". It's delicious, but the atmosphere might be the best part. We drank beer and ate free dark chocolate cake, because it was Philip's birthday, and only the best [that's free] for my Philip.

The next day we woke up to a southern breakfast, complete with biscuits, fried green tomatoes, eggs, grits, bacon, and coffee in little tea cups. I couldn't leave without going on a run in the countryside, so Mina and I went exploring while Philip read in the library. We got lost, and Mina got ticks, but at least she got to be off leash. We found a creek, and she swam, and then we got more lost. But eventually we found our way back to the house, and I got to take my favorite kind of shower - in a claw tub.

We left tired, but happy, and even stopped by a British pantry on the way home so I could look and swoon-without buying anything-at all the over priced digestives and Cadberry chocolates and Jacobs cream crackers and salad creams and even real, live, tiny, $11 jars of clotted cream.

Two years of marriage went by terribly fast, and as I've gone back and forth writing this blog post since soon after our VA trip to over a month since the trip, I'm realizing how quickly time goes from days to months to years, regardless of best intentions. I intended to write this right after we went so that I could capture everything accurately and fresh from my memory, but it's amazing how much effort you sometimes have to put into doing something you really want to do. It's also amazing how slowly I've grown more in love with this guy I married thanks in large part to the time that does keep passing so quickly.

Anyway, thanks, Welbourne, for giving us new memories and marking another splendid year for our marriage. Here's to many more.

Our cocktail spot

Our bedroom (the mattress was about as hard as sleeping on the floor...but it's all about the experience)

cheers to seniors and all that is to come

I thought I would have moved on by now. Well, to be honest, I have moved on. I don't curl up on my marriage bed and weep like I did circa May 2011 after abruptly graduating from college, getting married, and moving out of the Xie house (pronounced "she"...it was our landlord's last name and way too punny not to use for the name of a house full of girls). But there was something remarkable that happened between 2007-2011...I became me. I'm by no means complete or polished or even tactful yet, and I still look at those years with some rolls of the eyes, some blushing, some tsk-ing...But it's amazing what happens to you when you allow change to occur. The older I get, the less spontaneous I am and the more stuck I feel in the daily grind. It's a fight to constantly look at the world with arms and eyes wide open (cue Creed...thus cue groaning), using every opportunity to wonder and doubt and be shocked and learn.

College was filled with wondering, doubting, being shocked, learning, crying, laughing...But sometimes I felt the pressure to constantly be soaking up new experiences, particularly while abroad, which was sometimes exhausting (remember my post about being an introvert?). There is something comforting in routine, something great about simplicity, and Friday nights when you can always expect homemade pizza or sushi and good drink. I tend to look at college with a complete fondness for every single year and friend and moment. It was Utopian in my memory. How could anything be better than a house full of 9 girls, laying out in the front yard to study in April, World's Fair Park runs and Ultimate Frisbee, watching super depressing movies like Fargo and There Will Be Blood (also...Teeth...Ashleigh?) and laughing hysterically so as not to cry, friendship bread nearly every day of the week, room mate chatter around a single baking pan of cake, girl arms intertwining as forks shovel the [usually] Caitlin-made deliciousness into our mouths? I mean, there is nothing like it. At all.

However, college wasn't perfect. There was brokenness (but also redemption), lots of confusion, so many papers and stress and too much estrogen in one house. And on this other side of the fence where the grass seemed like it would be shriveled and dead and boring, it isn't. I haven't stopped learning. I haven't stopped relishing good music and sleeping late and planning random trips. I haven't stopped being friends with my loves. Two years out, and I remember freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior years like they were yesterday. I am still getting to travel and be spontaneous (and BONUS - I get to do it with my very best friend..."it" being traveling...duh). I can finally afford home cooked meals and even buy the materials to mess up a recipe here and there. I don't have to think about studying when I get home. I keep meeting these amazing people no matter where I go...they weren't just confined to UT. I'm even realizing that as terrifying as 30 may seem, 30 is sort of the new 20. Which I never thought I would say.

So seniors, cry your eyes out. Eat an extra slice of graduation cake. Have a few more nights at Sassy's. But then stop crying and smile, because it's not over. You are on the brink - even though it sometimes feels like life is ending. You've been alive for 22 years, and four of them - FOUR - hold your heart. It just gets better. Yes, you'll still go dancing; yes, you'll still get to have girl sleepovers even if you're married (I do); yes, you'll get to eat too much cake; and yes, you'll keep being friends with the ones who stole your heart 4 years ago (but you have to make it happen). There's even a new sweetness to these relationships that I know I took for granted, because A. we're so far apart, B. there's always a greater fondness for the ones who saw you naked all the time both emotionally and physically and loved you anyway, and C. the old friends are the ones you can call and will appreciate every new story you have to tell about this brave new world and the place you have in it.

My challenge to you is to make 30 your 20. Don't kill yourself, but have goals, particularly with exercise, because otherwise you'll be too tired after work to think about that. I made it my goal to be in better shape in my 20's than I was when I was 20. Think about things like refined sugars and high fructose corn syrup like all the cool crunchy people you know, but don't stop eating chocolate chip cookies. My suggestion would only be to not pound 25 all at once like you did in college because you will start feeling the effects of late nights out, too much alcohol, and high sugar intake way worse than you used to, starting at around age 24 and a half (ugh). Also eat more fruits and weird vegetables like kale. They're so good for you, and you can even trick yourself into loving them in smoothies without realizing they're there. It's great.

Finally - a toast to my girls near and far away and across oceans and who I haven't seen since a Canadian wedding nearly two years ago: you all made college what it was, and you are continuing to make my life what it is today. I'll drink to that.

me and Kelsey, Meredith's 21st birthday, Fall 2009

UT Game, Fall 2009

RUF Halloween party where all my roomies wanted to be the colors of the rainbow,
and I insisted on being a sheep.

Me and Sweet Melanie in Florence, Study Abroad, 2010

Leah and Michael's wedding, Fall 2010

Freshman year dorm room birthday party, Fall 2007

Freshmen hayride, Fall 2007

Halloween party, Fall 2007

Snow day with the Xies with Caitlin's cheesy biscuits in  Spring 2011

RUF Barn Dance, Fall 2008

Rhossili Bay, Wales, 2010

Bath, England, 2010, after a long day of being lost

Winter conference, spring 2008

One last hoorah with the old roomies, Spring 2011

Study Abroad 2010 in Swansea at either Oceana, Play, or Revs.

Meredith's wedding, 2011

Xies on Max Patch, Fall 2009

Ministry Team Retreat, Fall 2010

RUF Ministry Team

When Leah became a McCall, Fall 2010

RUF Christmas party with the roomies, 2008

Max Patch with Hopey, Fall 2010

That time when the Xies had a pig named Franklin (a few days after I got engaged - 2010)

U2 Concert - Fall 2009

Last  Barn Dance, Fall 2010 

Happy Graduation, guys!