2014

I can't keep up with my Thankful Thursdays, for the love, but I will review 2014!

Some highlights I remember fondly, and a few lowlights that are, in many ways, just as important:

favorite fiction book 

The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult

best and priciest meal

Family style sharing at The Spence in Atlanta

most memorable celebration

Hosting my Italy travel buddies to reunite and reminisce

favorite new mode of cooking

The crock pot. (I'm always late to the party.)

the other party I was super-late to
Netflix

favorite binge TV series
Broadchurch

food obsession
Quinoa

new tech item
Amazon FireTV

favorite movie

Unbroken

new travel destination

All the glorious spots in Italy

biggest loss
Twenty unnecessary pounds

biggest disappointment

Feeling betrayed by someone close

hardest lesson 
Remembering that people will always disappoint. And it's okay. We live and learn.

proudest craft moment (that pales in comparison to last year)

The creative pumpkin stack on my front porch in October

spent my birthday

In Atlanta with these fun folks for a very fine meal.

most awesome mode of transportation

This gondola

most pleasant surprise

Enjoying a roommate

moment that made my heart the fullest

This one was up there, too.

moment that made my heart break
Bidding a premature farewell to a dear friend who was called home too soon

biggest purchase

Other than Italy travel, my living room chairs

favorite new iPhone apps

Uber

best quick friend trip
Twenty-four hours in Nashville with Lori

performing arts high
Seeing Wicked at the Orpheum in Memphis with Mom

marked off the bucket list
Zip lined. (So it was in Birmingham. Who cares.)



not on the bucket list, but did it anyway
Took a calligraphy class

song I couldn't stop listening to
"Let it Fall" by Over the Rhine

favorite album
Mortar and Stone by Jill Phillips

Three hours and some change, and we greet 2015, ready or not. Here's to more highlights than lowlights in 2015.

Happy New Year!

thankful thursday #210

December has buried me. I am not winning.

However! Here are the little things making me so very grateful of late:

The pink rose I received in my office today from a coworker.

My Christmas tree lights that, mercifully, all worked out of the box and remain lit.

The impromptu lunch last weekend with a friend I haven't seen in forever.

Twenty-four glorious hours in Nashville.

A chance to host friends in my home this weekend.

The Dave Barnes Holiday station on Pandora.

Watching friends taste sweet joy in their lives.

The wrapped box in our office filled with food for those in need.

A text message that says, "I miss you. When are we talking?"

A Saturday coming up with no conference calls.

Three miles on the trails of Oak Mountain, in perfect, 40-degree running weather.

Are you finding time to be thankful in this season's hustle and bustle? Go on, be grateful!

the indy iphone purge

When we go to Indianapolis to work, it's always at the time of year when we're tired and weary from the grind of football season.

But it's also the time of year when I'm most grateful for my work people. They really are like family in these days, when we are with each other for every minute of every day. Working, sleeping, eating.

This is us at Steak 'n Shake at about 1:00 a.m. A patty melt, fries and a milk shake are good pick-me-ups after an eighteen-hour day.

We even dress alike.

 

(We were kind of in love with our new vests with the company logo on the hip.)

Love this one. We look so pleased with ourselves, don't we?
 

This one. I don't know. Maybe I was sad that we still had ten hours to go that day?

Here're a couple of us in happier times.

 

I think we'd just been giving out free pizza to some hungry little ones. Always a job perk.

Here's the whole crew on the morning after, ready to fly south.

Indy, you're always good to us, but it's also really nice to be home. 'Til next year.

thankful thursday #209

After last week's post of gratitude-nonsense, I owe this series some realness this week:

A few weeks ago, I had a bout of hurt feelings. That means these kinds of questions swirl incessantly in my brain:

I don't understand why that happened?
What could/should I have done better?
Why did they say that?
What did they mean when they said that?

On and on.

As it goes with hurt feelings, it just takes some time to get over 'em. I have to remind myself of that, because I'm not a great feeler. I want to mentally process what happened, and then just be okay.

But those hurt feelings. Sometimes they just linger.

A few days ago, in one of the moments when the hurt bubbled to the surface, I caught myself thinking, I wish I didn't feel this anymore.

And in that very instant, it's like the Lord grabbed my shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes, and shook me silly.

Never say that. I never, ever want your heart to be hardened or de-sensitized.

And then this is when I think exercising gratitude paid off, because I was thankful in that moment when tears were flowing. When I would have preferred to detach and be bitter, I was grateful that I did feel.

Next time you feel a hint of sad, or blue, or hurt, appreciate that tender heart you've received. Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #208

Does a Thankful Thursday post seem trifling on the day when the entire country is spewing gratitude?

Kinda, maybe. I dunno.

It seems like I should keep it low-key today. Own the trifling-ness of it all.

Yesterday on my drive home to Athens, I stopped to get gas at a Love's. (Do you know these? Their restrooms are, for the most part, reliably clean.)

Anyway. I was due for a protein shake at that time (more on that later, maybe), and I had this great thought, that if there was an electrical outlet in the restroom, I could even blend that shake right into delicious submission with my coveted travel blender.

There were two outlets!

Neither of which worked. I was not grateful.

I had resigned myself to physically shaking my shake, which is not nearly as tasty, when I spied another outlet right outside the restroom.

There was about a three-second decision point, where I ultimately decided to stoop to a new low, squat down, and blend that shake right there for the world to see.

When the blender ran, I was grateful. Momentarily embarrassed, but grateful.

I'll never see those people again.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. Hoping that gratitude for the things that really matter are never far from your thoughts today.

Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #207

When I'm traveling, and I've got a roommate (which happens in our company all the time, because we're like a family), there is this concern (beyond what the roomie will hear me say in my sleep):

Is it possible for two girls to have simultaneous access to a mirror and plenty of electrical outlets?

(This is the mark of a practically designed hotel room.)

In the big D, the Gaylord Texan has delivered.

First, this double sink vanity:

And better, this full length mirror with the electrical outlet next to it (the critical, yet always-elusive slam dunk of a feature):

I sit right there on the floor and dry my hair. Perfect.

Hotels of America, take note. The single girls bunking while on your properties will appreciate it.

Some days it's the little things, people. Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #206

Thankful today for this greeting at home, after a long week.

And for being reminded of this:

The people in my life. I'm undeserving, but darn grateful.

And you? Go on, be grateful!

fall love

It's such an odd season around here: the (finally-changing) golden and red leaves show me it's fall, but the blustery gray sky make me feel winter.

No matter. It's still my favorite season. Here's what's got me in love these days:

these ankle boots

Maybe I'm most excited that these are trending right now, and perhaps even edging out riding boots, which never fit my calves.

But for whatever the reason, these are so comfortable. I love them with leggings, skinny jeans, or boot cuts. Details on these gems here.

fun patterned socks

On the topic of footwear, I don't know why, but these socks are making me happy lately.

Just a little ray of sunshine that peeks through those gray clouds. Got a bunch of these in lots of colors on sale at Target recently.

my swivels

Oh, my chairs.

They have given me some of the sweetest moments with friends, early mornings with hot tea and a book, and cozy nights under a blanket. Probably the best money I've spent in 2014.

this sweatshirt wrap

Speaking of cozy, how cozy is this guy?

You can play around with his collar to get a couple of different looks. I love him with jeans and those booties up there. (Again, Target. Where goodness is found.)

jill phillips' new album

Mortar and Stone.

I got in on an early release of this one about a month ago and can't stop listening to it (while sitting in my chairs up there). These days, "Bear With You" is deeply moving to me, and "Good Shepherd" is another favorite.

the farewell season of parenthood

This is the best show on TV right now (at least of the four shows I watch.) I am sad to bid it farewell after this, its final season, but man oh man, they are pulling out the stops. The acting and writing is epic right now.

If you haven't watched it from Season One, run to Netflix now and get to binging.

company of the roomie

It's been so nice lately to have a good roommate. It reminds me of the days I spent with Lori when I first moved here. I've gotten quite used to having a sympathetic, listening ear at the end of a day. (And in full disclosure, access to her amazing inventory of accessories.)

Does fall make you love as many things as I do?

some truths embraced of late

Sometimes my brain goes into overdrive with thoughts that I can't shake. Lately these are the truths hitting me right between the eyes:

you've got two choices: minister or manipulate // "In all of your relationships you're always doing one of two things: ministry or manipulation." Relationships at work, at home, or with friends are all opportunities to minister, and when you're not, it's necessary to be honest and ask if you're manipulating instead. This is a dagger, people. I can't stop thinking about it, and it's a nasty truth when I realize I'm in the latter camp.

it's remarkable how a good hair day can make me feel better // Annie looked to tomorrow's sunshine; I look to a solid hair styling day. I tell you what, on a day when not much else feels good, cooperative hair and low humidity go a long way for this girl.

"you're mine" might very well be the sweetest covering i've ever had // When I lived in Starkville, one of the father figures there who looked out for me would, every time me he saw me, put his hand on his heart, kiss me on the cheek, and tell me, You're mine. I swear that to this day, those might be the most affirming words I've ever been told. I felt claimed. So powerful. It makes me wonder if I use words to give life, and cover in grace, the people in my circles.

confessing sins against a person is awfully humbling // It is not fun to admit, and it's really not fun to deliver the apology. But when it's done with the intent to honor -- and to minister, not manipulate -- coming clean is beautiful freedom.

the best friends are the ones who bear burdens with you // They give hugs when you cry. They empathize with your wounds. They're the ones who sit and listen without spewing platitudes and cliches, and know that sometimes all you really need to hear is I'm so sorry. I know it hurts. And they feel the hurt, because they bear with you.

And finally, some truths are harder to embrace than others.

thankful thursday #205

When people ask me how long I've worked for my employer, and I answer them -- thirteen years, eight months, and six days today -- they usually give me a bewildered look.

I know it's a long time for a 36-year old. It's not how my generation rolls.

I take some pride in that, though, that I might be an exception to the rule. Because I don't love doing things the way everyone else does. And because I feel invested and loyal.

Our culture doesn't give time a chance anymore, but when you let it, I think time can grow love in a place. I'm grateful for a long time here, with good people and experiences and lessons and development.

A downside of this long time, of course, is that it's easy to develop blinders. To miss important nuggets in the mundane.

This past weekend at one of our games, a guest tripped and fell in our area of responsibility and showed frightening symptoms of a traumatic brain injury. I was given a new perspective on our work in hospitality, and how it's not all about making things shiny and new and happy (as awesome as that sometimes can be).

Here's what I wrote to our staff following my reflection:

Team,

On Saturday at the MSU game, there was a sobering medical emergency to which Meghan and her staff tended with the greatest care and timeliness. She has remained in contact with them over the past few days out of concern and genuine compassion … so kudos to her! The husband of our injured guest wrote her a sweet note (below for you to read) that gave me a unique perspective on hospitality, and how we practice it:

We place a lot of emphasis on ensuring our facilities are immaculate, television feeds are crystal clear, food presentation is unmatched, hot dogs are fresh (and hot!), and staff is smiling bigger than anyone else in the stadium. And those things are of utmost importance to create the very best environment we can for our guests.

On the other hand, what happens in those environments is often — and maybe more often than we’d like to admit — out of our control. We will never know when something frightening, uncomfortable, or downright tragic will occur. A guest is sick, or trips and falls, or misplaces a child, or gets some very bad news: These are times when our call to service and hospitality might have the greatest and highest impact on a person’s soul, because we’re called to care well for them at all times, especially when they are under duress.

I know these instances are anomalies, and frankly, I hope they remain as that. But what an opportunity for us when they do occur! Let’s remember that while we work hard to be a happy place and refuge, we’re also a place where we might be given the chance to care well for hurting people in a very specific time and place. Be prepared not only with a sound emergency response protocol, but with a readiness to extend mercy and grace in times of need. It’s a high calling!

Wishing everyone a great game week!

RLF

Thankful this week for a new perspective, even after thirteen years, eight months, and six days in the same company.

Any new epiphanies for you this week? Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #204

I'm working in Starkville this weekend. Do you know this Mississippi State football team is ranked #1 in the country right now? Mercy, I did not think I'd live to see the day.

In my six years of living and working there, I don't think they ever won more than 3 games in a single season. Those were dry bones seasons if I ever knew them.

I've shared it before, but some of the people in that town are some of the dearest I've ever known. I'm thankful to go back there and hug them again, and to remember the Lord's faithfulness to me there, through the people he placed so carefully in my path.

In particular, there is one soul I thought of recently, in a passing moment of gratitude. I wanted to call him to tell him how much he meant to me.

I made a note on my weekly to-do list, and I neglected to call him. And felt guilty about it, per usual.

Instead, I'm thankful for the chance this weekend to tell him in person. Sometimes a message delivered face-to-face can be the sweetest ones.

Tell someone this weekend how they've impacted you for good. Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #203, on a tuesday

(Because I'm just behind. For no good reason, behind.)

About nine months ago, I began a transition into a new church.

These nine months have been riddled with heartbreak, loss, dread, awkward new-person moments, stepping out, goodbyes and hellos, grieving, and on and on.

The process is not near complete, but on the bright side, it's nine months further along than it was nine months ago. There is solace in that.

Maybe my favorite hymn is "Come Thou Fount, of Every Blessing," and its second verse starts out like this:

Here I raise my Ebenezer; hither by thy help I'm come ...

It references the story from 1 Samuel 7, when following a victory over the Philistines, Samuel placed a stone at the physical place of remembrance and called it Ebenezer, which means stone of help in Hebrew.

In all seriousness, and in the spirit of gratitude, it has been a cherished time to reflect on my own faith journey, and on the stones placed along the path that remind me of the Lord's help and provision.

In the midst of the hard, I'm feeling thankful for my own Ebenezers this week. How about you? Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #202

Fall's here. Glory be.

I went crazy on some fall porch bling. (Did you know pumpkins en masse get expensive? I know this now.)

Look at that Great White pumpkin. He's a monster. I might have thrown my back out getting him in just the right position (and he's probably still not).

The mums are fun, too. Given my track record with green-thumbing, they might last until the end of the month.

And these minis.

They might be my favorites.

I'm thankful that fall's here, and for all the bling she brings.

Are you relieved at the cooler temps? Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #201

In a span of the past week, I saw three movies in the theater. This never happens. Prior to that, I might have been to the theater three times in the past 12 months.

One of the movies was The Good Lie, the inspired true story of refugees orphaned during the Civil war of Sudan in 1983. It follows their long journey on foot to a refugee camp, their long wait to be given a second chance in the United States, and their long process of assimilation here fifteen years later.

I'm the first to confess to being a sap over a movie with inspirational undertones. Characters who overcome hardship, they get me every time.

During The Good Lie, the ugly girl cry happened. Couldn't be contained. I felt sick about the injustice endured by the Sudanese in their own country, but watching their struggles in a foreign land -- the land of the home and the brave -- it was too much.

I was guilt-ridden over my life of abundance, safety, and comfort. And embarrassed at how distant and detached we are as a nation from those less fortunate.

Lord, give us gratitude for where we are, and hearts to see those who hunger and thirst for the things we have and yet so easily forget.

See this movie. You won't have a choice but to go on and be grateful.

i visited little man last weekend

This guy.

He chooses Sundays to be all hipster. On the rest of the days, it's more likely you'll find him running around in sweat pants and a t-shirt, if he's wearing pants at all.

He gets the camera thing. He's good at showing his teeth.

I'm sort of smitten. But, you know. I don't have to deal with the temper and sass.

Goodness, he loves his dad. No matter that he slings him around like a rag doll.

And wide open spaces to run.

There's energy to be spent, and an empty ball field is a fine space to do it.

He found a baseball and played a little catch with his dad.

He gets tickled and it's my favorite laugh he's got.

In general, it's just good to be three.

a day in the (travel) life

"A traveler without observations is a bird without wings."

-- Moslih Eddin Saadi



My alarm sounds at 5:15 a.m. I wake up at 5:15 at least three mornings a week, but it's harder this morning. It's harder every time I'm dragging myself out of bed for a day of travel.

I back out of my garage well before the sun rises, and my neighbor is heading out to work. Per usual, he greets me like good neighbors do. He's getting married in a few months and will move out of his house. It's too bad, because he's the best neighbor ever. Polite, generous, helpful to the girl next door, and to the elderly woman who lives two doors down.

At the airport, I'm frustrated with the parking deck construction. I always park on Level 5. The routine of that ensures I will remember where my car is. But this morning there is no room, so I go to Level 7. I always pick odd numbers, so it's the next best option. As it turns out, Level 7 is the uncovered rooftop parking, and I hope for a second it won't be raining when I return home Sunday.

The security line is uneventful. I'm an efficient traveler, because I don't want to be that girl in the security line who needs five bins for her belongings. My shoes are easy to slip on and off, I don't have liquids, gels or laptops to remove from my bag, and I don't wear a belt on travel days. In and out. Smooth.

At the gate, I settle in and note a weather delay on the screen. I have some cushion on my layover, so I'm not concerned about my connection. A lady next to me strikes up a conversation with me; she is from Wisconsin and has been here working for ten days. She is gracious and tells me she enjoyed her time in this city where I live.

As our departure time continues to be delayed, the passengers are irritable and anxious. As if air travel isn't stressful enough. I feel such compassion toward the gate agents as they listen to every one of the traveler's complaints and rebook them on new flights. I do not envy them.

The lady from Wisconsin seems trustworthy enough, so I ask her to watch my bag. Is that naive? Maybe. It's too early in the morning to care.

There is a young couple nearby, maybe early 20s, trying to get to Lansing, Michigan. I know this because they talk loudly, and make a production over the delay. They take ridiculous selfies and SnapChat with contacts. I cringe at the immaturity of it all.

Our delay creeps to 90 minutes and then approaches two hours when we begin to board. I usually wait to board last, because I don't need overhead bin space (it's another key to low-stress travel), but this morning I uncharacteristically inch my way into the Zone 2 mass. It's seemingly the entire plane. Am I unknowingly cutting the line? I don't know. I assume someone will huff aloud if I am.

I scan my boarding pass bar code that's on my iPhone screen (I feel so tech savvy), and pat the gate agent on the arm with a wish for a better afternoon.

On the flight, I don't initiate conversations, per usual, but I'm happy to oblige the young physical therapist next to me who is traveling to New Mexico. Her grandmother lives there, and they are going to a hot air balloon festival. Interesting, I think to myself, and what a good memory to make.

The captain informs us we have to taxi back to the gate to "close the cap" of something-or-other on the plane. Oh, to just take off will be glorious. The man next to me sighs an audible "crap" at that announcement. I spot his boarding pass for the next flight, and he will make his flight without issue. I can't sympathize with him, because I may not make mine.

We land, mercifully, and everyone is frantic to get off the plane. A toddler two rows ahead of me stands on her mom's lap and pushes the attendant call button. I smile to myself, her mom unaware.

I race through the Atlanta airport, jogging sometimes and running up the escalator, only to find this flight is also delayed. Again, I settle into one of the uncomfortable chairs at the gate, and send a couple of text messages to friends who are on my mind.

We board late. This captain tells us we have been "over-fueled" by what seems like an alarming amount. 1200 pounds. How does that happen? The crew announces we must de-fuel, and so we wait on the plane for another hour or so while we unload the 1200 pounds of fuel.

It occurs to me that I probably won't arrive in time to pick up Little Man from school.

It's a good chance to text friends again. I want them to know I think about them randomly throughout the day. And if I'm honest, it passes the time, too. My bestie makes me chuckle out loud once. I don't care what people think about that.

It is freezing on the plane. The man next to me pokes me in my right arm to point out to me the vapors of the air that billow underfoot. He works a crossword puzzle, and I remember my Mimi and her love for those. She sought assistance from these crossword dictionaries that, when I was old enough, understood them to be straight-up cheat tools.

I order hot tea from the nicest flight attendant ever. She smiles even when she's not interacting with anyone. It's a gift, I think. She's in the right business. I burn my tongue on the first taste and think as I do every time I sip hot tea, Why do I do this every time?

Our wheels touch down and for at least a little while, my travel ends. Until I approach the rental car counter.

right about now (the one to kick off my favorite season)

This weekend's maybe the first that'll really feel like fall. I thought it a good time to report in on the nonsense going on in my world, right about now.

loving: these new living room chairs. I searched high and low for these two (as I did for this guy), and I'm so pleased. They are cozy, inviting, and perhaps best of all, they swivel.

They give guests the option to be a part of the living space, or the dining space, whichever they prefer. And I've been known to spin them to face each other and create a little chaise for myself. I appreciate their versatility.

reading: The book of Esther. I've never read it with much intentionality, so this slow read has been a good chance to linger in the emotions and drama of that story. Because I don't love emotions and drama in my own life.

excited about: Seeing this guy for the weekend!

missing: This view from last weekend.

Majestic, isn't it?

trying to: get a jump on Christmas shopping. The convenience of online shopping is never more glorious than while Christmas shopping. In October.

enjoying: this little single-serve blender, for smoothies and shakes.

All the goodness blends up right into a to-go cup with a lid, and you've got only one thing to wash. Brilliant. A solid $15 purchase on sale from Target.

wearing: the same gold earrings every day. I need an intervention. By a stylist.

planning: meals like a crazy person. I've made some significant tweaks to my eating habits the past few weeks, and wowsers, is it challenging.

singing: Christmas tunes already, in preparation for an Advent concert. It's weird. Every year, it's weird. 

needing: a fall craft. And when I say "craft," I mean maybe a pumpkin arrangement for my porch. That's about what I feel capable of these days.

learning: how to embrace some subtle changes.

listening: all the time to the Sam Cooke Pandora station. Oh my goodness, they are such great oldies, and the perfect backdrop to a dinner in with friends.

wishing: that fall weather would show up, stat. I'm dying to wear this vest from Target.

Target. So much to be enjoyed there.

praying for: discernment to more readily see the Lord's fingerprints in my every day.

How about you? Anything exciting going on right about now, in this first week of the very fine month of October?

thankful thursday #200

Guys. Two hundred posts of Thankful Thursdays.

I imagine all that gratitude bottled up, and it feels like it should be a lot. Enough to make a difference over time. Enough to make gratitude flow more easily.

But there are still days when it's hard to feel thankful. Not because it's been such a hard week (sometimes it has been, but "hard" is so relative anyway), or because I live such a disenchanted life (I don't), but just because my flesh may never default to the spirit of gratitude. It may just always be work. I don't know.

In any case, I travel tomorrow to see Little Man, and that is always a reason to be thankful. Thankful for work travel that occasionally morphs into family time. For real face time with my flesh and blood who don't live close. And if I'm lucky enough for him to sit still for a hot second, for the opportunity to snap some pics.

If you're struggling to feel thankful, think of the bottled reserve. Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #199

Next week will be my two hundredth Thankful Thursday. (What?! That seems a long time. Two hundred weeks is like four years.)

In any case, the 199th is no less important.

This week I attended a function that's practically my worst nightmare. The one where I go alone. Mingle with a myriad of people I don't know. Wear a name tag. Insert myself awkwardly into conversations (because really, what else is a single introvert to do?).

Tell kind, interested people over and over what I do for a living, which makes no sense to anyone. (That career conversation. It's a laborious broken record. Does this ever stop happening?)

We share a meal together, and mercifully our conversation creeps beneath the surface. I am grateful. Because small talk. Exhausting.

I am thankful to meet new people who welcome me, take interest in me, and don't linger long on the surface of superficiality.

Have you recently had the pleasure of meeting someone like that? Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #198

Rhythm is about patterns. Regular recurrences.

On a good day, it is stable and predictable, bolstering me in a world that sometimes feels imbalanced and uncontrollable.

On a bad day, it is boring and routine, stifling any hint of spontaneity I may harbor.

A few months ago, I mentioned I'd been praying for a shift, because my rhythm was more suffocating and oppressive, and less comforting and familiar.

Over time I've noticed some subtle shifts in my rhythm, personally, professionally, spiritually. They are quiet and nonintrusive, like a favorite houseguest. I barely know they're here, but I like 'em being here.

I'm feeling thankful for some slight change this week.

Do you have some subtle changes happening now, or hoping for some on the horizon? Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #197

In a person's life, there are times to say hello, and there are times to say goodbye. (Mercy, I hate goodbyes.)

Last week I bid an unexpected goodbye to a dear friend who touched many. She was elegant, and godly, and valued the right way to do things. She loved her family, loved her church, loved her Lord. She poured lovingkindness into the lives of others. She served selflessly.

Oh, that the world would have more people like her.

After that goodbye, as with many, right in the middle of the heartache, there was a seed of gratitude. Thankfulness for having known her, and for having been the recipient of her generous spirit.

You simply can not know when a goodbye will knock on your door when you least expect it. Be thankful for these loved ones.

Go on, be grateful!

a few of my favorite italy photos

Slowly, photos from our trip are getting compiled, and organized, and cropped, and what-have-you. We are not close to having the photo book complete, but these are a few that I adore of late.

This one is from Manarola, the second tiniest town of the Cinque Terre.

These are my favorite travelistas, in our accidentally coordinating outfits.

I think the blue filter is so fun in these snaps from Vernazza.

CP and I are killing time while Meg ordered gelato in Manarola.

And this one from Capri. Can you get over it?

I still can't believe that was my real life.

thankful thursday #196

One of my dearest friends moved away from Birmingham about six months ago. 

(This one. I love her silly side.)

It was a good move for her, but let's face it: I'm selfish, and I was sad.

When I'm lucky, my work travel allows me to cross paths spontaneously with people I love.

Thankful that I'll get to linger with her over a leisurely dinner tomorrow, en route to my hotel for the night.

I'm expecting some belly laughs.

Connecting with friends this weekend, too? Go on, be grateful!

how to resurrect the crock pot during summer {turkey chili}

I've missed the crock. I made some stupid easy sweet potatoes recently, and while that's an excellent use of the crock pot, it's not crock pot magic.

The magic happens with soups and meats and whatever other goodness you mix in, but it's hard to get ramped up for that kind of magic when it's a gajillion degrees outside.

I found this recipe, though, and threw caution to the wind. I'm so glad I did. I've eaten leftovers for days and it's not yet lost its luster. It's hearty but light, and packs a lot of protein. Give it a try, in any season!

Turkey Chili
Serves 8

1 lb. ground turkey
1 T. olive oil
1 c. chopped onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeño, seeded and chopped
1 (28-oz.) can crushed tomatoes
1 (16-oz.) can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 (16-oz.) can chili beans (in mild or hot sauce, your choice)
1 can corn, drained and rinsed
1 T. chili powder
1 c. chicken broth
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 garlic powder
1 tsp. cumin
Greek yogurt (plain) for topping

1. In a skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat, sauté onions until softened, about 3-4 minutes. Add jalapeño and garlic, and cook for about 2 more minutes (don't let the garlic burn). Add turkey, and cook until browned and no longer pink.


2. Place turkey mixture into the crock pot. Add remaining ingredients and stir well. Cook on low for 2-4 hours.


3. Serve topped with Greek yogurt (or other more fun and fattening toppings of your choice, like shredded cheese, sour cream, green onions, Fritos, etc.).

thankful thursday #195

Thankful to open this new stadium expansion in 48 hours.

The (endless) season of planning is (finally) coming to a close, so let's get the real season started already, shall we?

Anyone else excited about college football? Go on, be grateful!

this moment in rome i can't forget

It was early on this day in Rome.

We'd caught the Metro around 7:00 that morning in order to arrive at the San Pietro station by 7:30, hopeful to secure a chair in St. Peter's Square for the papal blessing at 10:30.

The crowd was a given; 80-some-odd thousand people were expected to be battling for a spot. As we emerged above ground from the Metro station, that very crowd practically carried us to the square, as if we were a raft in their waters.

Hidden in the mass of tourists were the locals, navigating their morning routines. Men in suits, holding a briefcase in one hand and coffee in the other. Shop owners switching their door signs from Closed to Open. Moms walking their uniformed children to school.

Homeless nomads, tucked under blankets on door stoops and sleeping soundly amongst the morning bustle.

We walked briskly and with purpose, but then this.

An older gentleman walked toward us, just as briskly and with just as much purpose, apparently heading to work for the day. One of those locals, doing what I suspected was his everyday normal.

Seemingly by second nature, that man leaned down mid-stride toward another still peacefully sleeping on one of those door stoops, and laid at his head a paper bag filled with breakfast.

In a matter of seconds, I hoped it was a fresh-baked pastry, topped with some of the most delightfully sweet sugar. Or a buttery, flaky croissant that was still hot with steam.

In another second, I wondered what that man lying on the ground would think when he finally awoke.

And in the next second, because this servant expressed goodwill so naturally, I believed this was his ordinary. I believed this was as much a part of his routine as grabbing his briefcase on the way out the door.

It was one of the most beautiful acts of service I've ever seen, because it was executed in front of thousands of people, yet without fanfare or attention. That man never made eye contact with a soul, because he cared nothing for honor or glory.

I think my breath caught in my throat I was so touched.

This man. This kindness. This ordinary.

These are the red-letter moments, people. Make them happen.

baron fig

Of late, I've been on a mad hunt for the perfect to-do-list-holder and note-taker. I was hankering for a "planner" that gives me some flexibility, but that has plenty of pages for meeting notes, random ideas, and sporadic jots.

No pre-made calendar pages or ruled paper inserts would do.

Here were the preferred criteria:

1. Dimensions around 8" x 5"
2. An elastic strap closure
3. Blank paper (i.e., no lines, no dots, no grids)
4. Smooth and stately paper
5. Visually beautiful

I was close to going with a Moleskine, like this ...

... but frankly, I didn't want to be like everyone else. And that guy's kinda stuffy, I think.

And then my research yielded something else that intrigued me, something different and classy: the Baron Fig Confidant.

Here's how he stacked up to my wish list:

Dimensions are 7.5" x 5.25". I quite like that it's a little wider than the 5"-wide Moleskine.

It comes with blank, lined, or dotted paper. And that blank paper, oh, it is fine. Smooth and ivory.

It only comes in one color, and if it were black, I'd not have tolerated it. But it's this very chic silverish-grayish-pewterish linen, which I believe whispers, "I'm unique."

There is no elastic closure, which was a definite con, and a criterion I wasn't sure I could compromise.

But this sealed the deal for me:

It opens flat. FLAT. No flipping.

So at a very reasonable $16, I decided he was worth a shot, and so far, I'm glad I did.

If you're in the market for a journal of any sort, give Baron Fig a chance.

If nothing else, you'll feel very hip for trying it out.