holy manure

You know that exchange when someone says, "God! this smells awful — smell it!" And then you feel compelled to smell it, not because you'll enjoy it but just because you have to know for yourself, just how bad is it?

Well, I imagine that's what everyone in Winchester, Indiana is thinking:

Giant Gas Bubbles in Indiana Dairy Farm's Waste Pond Frighten Neighbors

a poem a day

The best five minutes of my morning commute: the Writer's Almanac on NPR. It usually airs between 9:05 and 9:10, when I'm usually driving into work (late, because I have an abusive relationship with my snooze button).

Garrison Keillor has a voice so regal, I'm convinced he could read the ingredients off the side of a Cheez-It box aloud and they'd sound like priceless verse.

I love this poem from last week, as Ryan and I have spent countless hours pouring through glossy magazines and window shopping since we moved into our house in September. It's good to pause and remember that "we already have everything."

the red room

Our breakfast nook, more commonly called "the red room," has finally been furnished. I found the table online for $130. The chairs were donated from my parents (they were a light pine color, and I painted them black). Ryan put my old TV up in the corner. And the Varsity photo was a gift from my brother Trey.

in bloom

My first March in Indiana, and the first sign of spring has appeared alongside the driveway. Visible proof of change.

Then there’s invisible change — the kind that’s harder to understand, to accept, to process. Change that I’ve been ignoring since August — which is the simple fact that this is my new “home.”

All winter, I’ve been busy trying to ignore that fact. Busy pretending that I’m living some parallel life to the one I left behind, and that everything in Atlanta is exactly as I left it. Telling myself that, if I chose to, I could return and pick up where I left off. When the obvious truth is that life moves on, whether or not you're ready for it.

But spring is made for new beginnings, right? The snow has melted and my down jacket has been retired for the season. Warm weather and sunshine are creeping closer. Ryan gave me these beautiful little roses. All reasons to smile today.

february flops

Just like that, it’s already March. I managed to make it through all of February with one measly post. Pathetic, even for the shortest of months.

I’d planned to write about house projects. I’d planned to write about the awesome tagalong-dingdong cupcakes I made for my valentine. I’d planned to write about our daycations to French Lick, Indiana, and San Diego. I’d planned to finish writing a children’s book for my beloved cousin for her sixth birthday. I’d planned to start writing my novel again.

Do you hear that…? I do believe that’s the sound of failure. I’ve made embarrassingly insignificant progress on all of these endeavors. Where did the month go? Well, let's break it down. Here's a look at the average day:



















Will I actually get some stuff done around the house now that The Bachelor is over? Or will I swap one addiction for another and start watching Real Housewives of NYC?

This is exactly why I didn't have cable when I lived alone.