Our 'Happy 30th Birthday' Trip

It was a once-in-a-lifetime, no regrets, hope-really-does-win, HaPpY 30th BiRtHdAy trip.

An incredible two weeks spent in Spain and Paris with two dear friends.

She was one of my besties in college and a roommate our senior year. Together, we studied a ridiculous amount. They met in medical school and when I met him, I liked him from the beginning. I adore her. And him. And them.

  

It was three years ago that we set out on our first big vacation together. A couples vacation...for four. My life looked different then but we made a pact to make our travels a tradition and despite it just being me, they held tight to the pact. 

She turns 30 the day after me so now felt right. She researched & literally planned the entire trip (my flights included), sent me the itinerary, and held all my important documents during our travels. He, he navigated, was our tour guide, and put up with us both for two solid weeks. Me, I just was. And I loved every minute of it.

Out of this world. Pure goodness. Simply perfect.

Can we just go back already?

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Our first stop was Madrid, a happening place. 

 Captivating architecture, endless tapas enjoyed over five meals a day, and dining as a slow gathering experience over hustle. It is where the "American breakfast" is a plate piled high with sausage, bacon, and blood sausage. Where dinner menus include brains, kidneys, pig ears, neck glands, braided intestines, and fish served with eyes. There was ice cream and salty churros with chocolate dipping sauce, too. Where days start late, dinner begins after 9pm, and nights run into the early morning. Where street performers & costumed characters are of abundance, where flamenco dancers entertain, and where nuns sell yummy cookies through a secret door. It is home to The Royal Palace of Madrid and the one and only Prado Museum.

 From Madrid, a bullet train landed us in Sevilla.

Sevilla is a little gem with quaint cobblestone streets and unique labyrinth pedestrian roads. Though a metropolis, it felt intimate. Intimate and the toastiest of all our stops with temperatures nearing triple digits. It boosted simplicity down to delightful tapas, intricate hand laid tile work, fountains at every turn, signature blue and goldenrod yellow fronts, and bell tower chiming throughout. It is where dinner started after nine and was served one community dish at a time. Where orange trees were of abundance and fresh fruit filled sangria was enticing. Where the sunrise and sunset views painted the river, the magnificently adorned (and the worlds largest) Cathedral is found, and the intricate hand crafted Alcazar is still home to Spanish royals. 

Just keeping it real because it was H.O.T. You are welcome.  Now back to the real pictures.

A little bus ride from Sevilla and we we arrived in Granada. 
It was where we saw all we could see in a mere twenty-eight hours.  It was a short but worth it overnight filled with pasta, crepes, and a burger with fries. What? It's all authentic. They were quaint little eateries with a handful of seats, a few menu options of the day, and a view of the chef who took pride in their art...well not the burger from the one and only Burger King but we were hurrying to catch our overnight train. Granada was home to hippies, bath houses, and hills that I'm certain left my calves lookin' fine. It is home to the breathtakingly sculpted Alhambra which boast incredible views, beautiful tiles, and tranquil green gardens.

 And from Grandad, we took an overnight train to Barcelona. Awe, Barcelona. 

It was where hip brunch joints serve top notch dishes, Gaudi masterpieces wow (Sagrada Familia & the Park Guell), magic fountains flow, skateboarders abound, and where fresh-from-the-sea paella with red wine sangria gets two fist pumps from me. Eating things like lobster, shrimp, mussels, and cuddle fish while sipping red wine made me feel so grown up. But, what I loved the most was the rest on Barcelona's peaceful beaches with crashing waves and swooping seagulls. 

A quick flight from Barcelona and we arrived in our final destination, Paris. 
I mean honestly. It was as magical as I envisioned from the perfectly paired three course dinners, to the melt-in-your-mouth pastries you could smell for blocks, and the chocolatiers with detailed creations. There was architecture to marvel at, window boxes overflowing with red and white flowers, and the signature cobalt blue doors with gold handles. It is where I paid to use the bathroom while out exploring and got to pick from a rainbow of toilet paper with the plushness of my choosing. It is home the Louvre and thus none other than Mona Lisa. And then there was the Eiffel Tower. We took it in throughout the day but it was a spectacle at night as it twinkled on the hour and seemed to never get old. 
If only stinky cheese wasn't a thing, Paris might just be perfect. 

Of all the places we visited, Madrid felt the busiest, most crowded, and a little overwhelming. Sevilla was quite the opposite. It felt quaint, full of charm, a relaxing. Of course Barcelona had a unfair advantage with the inciting beach. The tranquility of crashing waves and toes in the sand is hard to beat in my book. But Paris. It is as magical as one might envision. The three course freshly prepared meals, the charm and character, the euphoric baked goods, and the majesty of the Eiffel Tower. So much to see and do and experience in every nook and cranny makes Paris endlessly alluring. 

As we shared our last dinner, I teared up as we thought about our next vacation. Not just about where or when but about what life may look like then. 

Ten years ago, I wouldn't have pictured the final few days of my twenties to look like they did. But, they were really, really good. I have stellar friends and our trip was an incredible way to end the decade that redefined me. 

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The most heartfelt thank you to my dear friend for planning the entire trip. 

I simply could not have planned, organized, and prepared like she did. 

It was incredible and I am grateful that we let her husband be our third wheel. 

#AlyAndNinaTurnThirty 

Happy 30th {To Me}:

On my 28^th birthday, I created a bucket list. 

Not one that I wanted to aspire to over my lifetime but in Year 28. 

There were little things and big, real big things. It was motivating and focusing on difficult days. It gave me a sense of purpose and accomplishment. On my 29^th birthday, I surveyed the list and cried all the ugly tears when I realized that I had checked every. single. box. All of them. Despite it being a difficult year, the bucket list prevailed and I felt so accomplished. 

You can read all about the Year28 Bucket List here.

Year 29, it was no different. I again comprised a list and set out to push myself, challenge my introverted ways, and once again dream big. 

Friends, you should make a bucket list. Small things matter too and when you are able to look back and see the checked boxes, it is exhilarating. 

So get to bucketing, I don't think you will regret it.

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Without further ado…the Year29 Bucket List…because as of today, I am 30. Holla!

That doesn’t make me anxious or sad or anything really. I got plans for 30 so,  bring it.  

Now really, without further ado, the Year29 Bucket List…

1.       Take a cooking class.

I did more than just take a class, I learned that you can check cookbooks and cooking guides out from the library! It’s like doing homework but with a subject you are actually interested in. I did lots of reading and trialing of recipes and venturing into the world of new foods. You can read more about recipes I tried and my approach to cooking (which in general falls under Paleo or the Whole30) here.

Oh, I also joined a cooking club. We call it ‘C-Club.” It’s a tossup as to whether the ‘c’ should stand for ‘cooking,’ 'chatting,' or ‘crying.’ C-Club was modeled off the book Bread and Wine and consist of a few dear friends. We meet monthly and cook and chat and cook and cry. I will confess that we have taken C-Club to a few restaurants instead of cooking but 3/5 of the members had (or will have) a baby this spring/summer so sitting and being served was needed. C-Club gets deep. Real and authentic. My type of conversations.

2.       Join a GC. 

Some call them Bible Studies or small groups but the church I have been attending calls them Gospel Communities or GC. It sounds small but this one was big for me. I think I have discussed a few times how I am an introvert so gathering with a group of essentially strangers sounded overwhelming. But, I knew my spirit longed for a body. Not knowing where I belonged, I emailed the pastor and gave him a brief overview of my life and asked if he could guide me. A part of me hoped that he would say ‘we just don’t really have the right group for you’ so that I could cross it off my list and chalk it up to having tried. I wanted a place where I fit…me and my newly divorced, mom of a decease child self could feel accepted.  Needless to say, I wound up in a wonderful group mixed with single peeps and married couples of varying ages and have felt right at home. {A special thanks to Jordan and Lauren for hosting}.

3.       Go on my first date. 

I did! I went on a blind date and had a second date and then promptly retired from dating. It wasn’t him, it was me. And I don’t mean that in the nice way that people use it to dump someone. It really was me not being ready. Dating is a whole new world for me. An overwhelming, scary, risky, intimating world. I know now that I wasn’t ready then and it is ok for me to admit that. It’s been almost a year since I retired from dating. I am now more settled and self aware and confident in who I am. Don’t get me wrong, I still cringe at the thought of dating but cringing is better than upchucking my lunch. You are welcome for that visual.

4.       Define my career. 

Year 29 afforded me a job change. I wasn’t unhappy in my previous job, in fact it was hard to leave, but my new role allows me to support families who find themselves in tender moments and faced with the reality that life isn’t always easy. This job allows me to pay forward the care that was once given to me and my Addy.

5.       Run a Half. 

Gulp. We did it and you can read about it here. 

We are hoping to run another this fall. Two halves make a whole right?

6.       Establish a Financial Emergency Fund. 

Between the medical bills from my pregnancy, genetic testing for hopeful answers, and the legal fees from my divorce, my savings account set empty. Completely depleted. That is a scary place to be when you have a mortgage and no wingman. So this year, I pounded out a cash budget, cut excess expenses, and took a strong stance on saving. The emergency fund was first and saving for my vacation second. Year 30 will afford some even tougher decisions regarding where I call home.  Baby steps. 

7.       Take a 30^th Birthday, once in a lifetime, hope wins, good does come, celebration vacation.

Nailed it. Two weeks exploring Spain and France with two dear friends did the trick. I have about 700 pictures that I have been sorting through and I will write a whole post complete with pics soon. It was incredible and the most perfect way to bid farewell to my twenties. 

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30. 

Friends, I am 30. 

I don’t feel 30 but it sounds like a number that better fits me. 

More mature. More established. More self aware. More who I want to be. More, well me.

Cheers to 30.

 

Family Reunion {Oh, Sweet Memories}

I have vivid memories of our family reunions from my childhood. 

It was always one of the highlights of my summer. 

Once a year, we would gather for a weekend at the family farm. 

At one time, only a gravel road led us there. It is secluded and peaceful.

Well peaceful the other 51 weekends out of the year. 

There were simple tents pitched to elaborate campers pulled in. 

It was where you went to bed to the hum of the cicada and rose with the smell of bacon being cooked over the campfire stove. The early birds always got the worm. 

There were fresh, homemade donuts dripping with gooey glaze. 

And of course when dinner rolled around, the plywood table covered in vinyl cloth was overflowing with anything you could imagine. But, you knew not to fill yourself too full because just as the evenings would wind down, there would be roasted marshmallows for sticky smores and bowls piled high with homemade fresh churned vanilla ice cream. 

There were intense games of Uno, slip-and-slides, and water balloons. 

And for a couple of years, the younger generation blessed the older generation with a production of some sort. We handed out tickets and programs and one was pretty much required to come because there was no place to escape. I remember one year my oldest brother directing us in a rendition of The Wizard of Oz. I'm certain it was nothing short of agonizing to have to sit through but there were never complaints. 

There were pictures taken in the same tree year after year and giggles because Great Aunt Max always had the biggest, floppiest hats. There was a hayride and horseback rides. And a stop off at the same creek for wading and crawfish catching. 

Though the gathering has gotten smaller over the years, 

this past weekend still brought many of those same memories. 

As I about to put my toes in the wading creek, I hear a little voice call for me.

I turn to see my cousin's two-and-a-half year old daughter with her hand out stretched wanting me to take hold. I reach for her and she grabs tight. In we wade together. As the cool water began to reach her thighs, she kicked and splashed, and squealed with shrill delight.  

And in that moment, I felt it. 

As she clung tight to my left, I longed to look down to my right and see my Addy's hand in mine. Oh what would it be like to have her there too? To share with her memories that I cherish. To experience the pure joy from my beloved that radiated from my cousin's daughter. 

As my heart stung, I looked down on the creek bed and there was a rock, the perfect shape of a heart. I picked it up and held it tight in my right hand. 

Since Addy's passing, my mom has collected heart shaped rocks. To her, they are little signs of our Addy with us. Wading in the creek, aching for my daughter, a simply yet perfect little rock put my heart at ease. 

My Addy, she is with us.

She is with us always. 

Suburban Gardening

It is not really an urban garden and certainly not the type you would find on a nice plot of land in the country so I guess you call it a suburban garden? 

I may have just made that up but let's go with it. 

And warning...if you are a real gardener, now is the time to stop reading because my motto goes along the lines of trial and error. If you are experienced, my low down on suburban gardening will sound like nails on a chalkboard.  I'm not an expert and I could be breaking every cardinal rule of growing but it works for me.

Growing a garden makes me really happy. I seriously feel like a kiddo in a candy store when I get to pick something that I actually grew. It's the bees knees and if I can do it, so can you. Trail and error people, trial and error.  When something actually grows you will feel like you should quit your job and become a farmer because practically you are. 

Or something like that. 

Anyway, the first summer in my home, I decided to try my luck and put Emily to work tilling up the grass. God bless little sisters. 

In total, my little raised bed garden is only 4 foot by 8 foot. Pretty small but being in the 'burbs puts limitations on how much of the lawn one can actually convert. There are millions of online tutorials for what is best so I just went with what seemed most logical.

Two things:

1. The soil in my area is all clay based so a raised bed garden was best. 

2. Don't even judge my two tone fence. I stained part of it when I first moved in and well the other half took a back burner to life. Oops. 

 Each spring, I use a shovel to loosen the soil that is left over from the previous year (because it is a small area a tiller isn't necessary after the first year of digging up the yard). Once it is loosened, I pour compost soil over the top. I have no idea if it is necessary but stating with a top layer of fresh nutrient rich soil makes sense in my head. 

The winters in Missouri don't lend themselves well to growing from seeds so I start with transplants. And let me tell you the best kept secret...go to your local farmers market to buy your transplants. Why? Because farmers are a gold mine of info and they love to share their passion. So I think about what veggies and herbs I love to eat and then illicit the help of an expert to map it out. The first year I gardened, I was clueless so I wondered through a booth and saw zucchini transplants. I happen to love zucchini so I asked how it is grown, how much space it needs, how much one transplant yields, etc. The nice farmer was so excited to see a "kid" express interest in something he loved that he went on and on and on. 

 The key to mapping a garden is understanding how each thing you want to plant grows. For instance, zucchini grows out on a vine while peppers grown up on a stalk. Keeping that in mind, zucchini need more space between each transplant while peppers can be planted closer together. 

How things grow is a question that the farmer can answers or good ol' google. 

 This year I planted zucchini, peppers (yellow, red, and green), green beans, and tomatoes. I have found that tomatoes (and my herbs...basil, rosemary, and parsley) do quite well in a container (so in a pot instead of being stuck in the ground). And, each year I like to throw a wild card into the mix. Basically it is one new type of transplant to keep my 'trail and error method' alive. It's something I have never grown and don't have my hopes set on thriving. If it works, I will incorporate it into future gardens and if not, no biggie. 

 The wild card of the year is brussels sprouts. I mean what? 

I love brussels sprouts and if you google how they grow it's actually kinda neat. 

We shall see what will be with them!

 Because transplants are a little weak when they are first planted (as in a little flimsy thing trying to defend itself again rain and wind) I have found that giving them a little boost in stability is helpful. You can get as fancy or as popsicle stick/sharpie/loosely tied twine as you want. 

Type 'garden support' into pinterest and you will be mind blown on all the ways in which you can protect your veggies. But alas, keeping it simple works too. 

Someday, I would love to have a big garden with lots and lots of wild cards but my little 4x8 produces plenty of goodness for me (and any tenants that I have at the time).

If gardening sounds overwhelming, start with a couple containers and see how it goes. When you get your first tomatoes or are able to grab fresh cilantro to toss into guac you might as well chalk yourself up to being as great as Martha. 

Preparing for The Big 3-0 {Thirty Baby}

This summer I will be 30.

That is the bIg 3-0 friends!

T-h-i-r-t-y.

I'm not one who gets all bent out of shape about age and don't particularly feel that thirty makes me "old." It is just natural progression rolling ahead and I'm quiet fond of the idea of leaving my twenties behind. They were not particularly blissful and thirty almost feels like a number that better reflects the life experience and wisdom that have come with the experiences life has brought.

Of course, if I'm being honest, deep down, raw & real...the number thirty doesn't scare me but at times, contentment does. Recently, I sat at the side of one of my dearest friends after she beautifully brought her third child into this world. Of all the events of life, child birth is the most miraculous of all. As I held her newborn child, giggled over her chubby cheeks and squinty eyes, and soaked in the newborn smell,  I caught myself lost in thought. I left and headed to a shower for another friend who will welcome her first baby this spring....the shower being hosted by yet another friend whom we will soon celebrate as she welcomes her second child this summer. I am awed by the opportunity to watch my friends become mommas (for the first, second, and even still for the third time). It is a deeply cherished joy. Motherhood is simply beautiful and utterly incredible and watching those whom you love experience it, is a gift.

Yet, walking away from a whirlwind day of celebration, I found myself lost in wonder of what my future holds. While the number thirty doesn't intimidate me, this isn't what I envisioned for being on the brink. As I celebrate the joy of life with my dear friends, I catch myself in wonder if it will ever be me.

When I turned 28, I wrote out a big bucket list and spent the days leading to 29 marking off dreams. Big and small. Realistic and grasping for what seemed just beyond reach. It was fulfilling and motivating and healing. When I celebrated 29 and looked back to reflect that every box had been checked, I was overcome by what became possible in the midst of such brokenness.

30 felt like it needed something too. Something to mark the leaving behind of the decade that stripped me, shattered me, and yet shaped me. Despite feeling like this isn't how I envisioned this season of life and wondering what may or perhaps may never come, I'm embracing what is. Alive in the present.

So, thirty is being ushered in with a dream. A dream that is being planned into a reality.

A little trip you might say.

Well,  a little jaunt half way across the world.  
With two dear friends {One of whom is ushering in her 30's too}.

Me, them, and a hunger for adventure, exploration, and the opportunity to embrace what is.

Happy 30th To Us. 

{Happy} Mother's Day

{Happy} Mother's Day. 

This is the third Mother's Day that has passed 

since my beloved daughter went to be with Jesus.  

I wish I could say that it has gotten 'easier' with the passing 

of time but 'easier' won't do. 

It's simply different. 

I felt it today, that deep hole in the pit of my soul, it still burns. 

It aches, longs, cries, yearns, and wonders. 

Oh what I wouldn't give to go back. 

To hold my sweet child. To kiss her chubby cheeks. 

To look into her eyes and tell her just how much her momma loves her. 

This journey hurts, over and over and over again. 

But interwoven is peace, and comfort, and reminders of the hope that prevails. 

Forever and ever her momma I will be. 

Hold your babies tight and celebrate them as the best gift of all. 

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Happy Mother's Day Dear Friends.