Holidays and Life Changes.

Tis the season to be... beyond busy, stressed out, and gaining weight! Some people call that jolly. The holidays bring back a lot of memories for me, as I'm sure they do for everyone else.  This year, memories involve so much more than Christmas's past.

As of the seventeenth of December, I am no longer a resident of Louisville, Kentucky.  Academically, I have finished college. No more scantrons, no more product IDs, and no more Kentucky.  I'll be brutally honest when I say, "Thank God."  I have been dying to move home since I moved away last fall.  Then again, now that I am gone, it seems a little sad, a little lonely in a way.  I miss my old room, my kittens, my routine, and my freedom.  Instead of that, I gained my dog, my family, my safe home, my best friends, and someone a little more special.

After six months of bad cell reception, grainy Skype quality, poorly timed text messages, and overall not niceties, I got this man back.  It's not been an easy six months, between his overwhelming work load in the Marines, my stress over school and internship, and a three hour time difference, things with us have seemed to fall the wayside.  We spent his birthday, our one year anniversary, and Thanksgiving over two thousand miles apart.

All sadness aside, I now have him back for the remainder of the holiday season and then will regretfully have to hand him back over.  Until then, look at some happy pictures from this break and my happy friends and family.

I was able to go Christmas tree hunting with AJ and his family.  Erika brought along her boyfriend, Keegan, and they are the dictionary definition of a handsome couple.  So obviously there were photos snapped.

This family means so much to me. They have become my Holland family, and my two best friends belong to it.  The Wells have made me feel so welcome, they have given me support, wise words, coffee in the morning, and reason to smile!

To say that I am just excited to be back with this girl, is the understatement of the century.  I am a happy girl, back in my home state, ready to see what God has to throw at me, and I know there will be a lot.

Stay tuned and have a great New Years!


Any photos you see of me here are from my beautiful friend Erika! See past post and her blog here!

Miss Erika.

Meet Erika.  

A fellow blogger, coffee lover, and photographer.  Most of you will recognize her from my various social media updates about her, and some of you have the pleasure of knowing her personally.  She is one of my very best friends.

Around this time about two years ago, I went to a party hosted by my friend, Sarah.  I didn't know anyone who was coming.  I was actually warned about a few of them, so I was understandably apprehensive.                                                                                                                                                 When people started to arrive, I slowly backed myself into the corner of the kitchen, everyone seemed to know one another, they were all very comfortable, and I was looking for any reason to escape.  Then in walked Rachel and Erika, both of them asking about my last name and where I went to school.  As it turns out I had met Rachel my freshman year of high school and I was friends with Erika when I was in beginning band... about 2005.  Needless to say I was completely rude and didn't remember... Whoops!  

Over the next few months, Erika and I bumped into each other a lot.  We bonded over surviving the end of the world, sitting quietly together in a hectic New Years Eve party, and Pinterest partying whenever the movie nights got boring.  Needless to say it was pretty much instant friendship.  

In two years there has been so much that has changed in both our lives.  We helped each other through everything from the celebration of new relationships to the loss of a grandparent.  We spend holidays with each others families, braved blizzards and Michigan roads to attend Christmas parties, survived a post apocalyptic photo shoot together, spent countless hours chatting, skyping, texting, or snapchatting, she has surprised me in Kentucky, and I bring her tea when she is sick.

In March, Erika and I suffered a mutual loss.  Her brother, my boyfriend, left for Marine basic training.  I came home on spring break about a week after he left, and we just sat in her room thinking that the next knock on the door would be him asking to chat with us, or it was him coming up the stairs to sing along with Erika playing the piano.  Needless to say, it wasn't. Over the time he was gone, there were lots of shared "I miss him too's", info passed from his letters, celebrations of his milestones, and prayers for both us and him. Twelve weeks later we were reunited in California to watch him graduate. Which led us to bond over exhaustion, frustration, sun poisoning, and aloe. Hours I would not trade for the world.

She has been such a huge support in my life.  Not just though AJ's enlistment, but also through my struggles at college, with other friends, with family, and most importantly, with God.  She has held my hand through sermons that made me sob, prayers I could not put into words, and through times where I needed the physical support.





I owe a lot to her. I have her to thank for my sanity at times, for my favorite coffee houses, for introducing me to my Marine, for my inspiration in so many things, and for helping me become who I am today.  There will never be a way to repay her for any of these things, but I will try.

Erika is a rare beauty.  Not just in looks, though she is obviously a stunner, but in her heart as well.  From my stories above, you can tell that she is a comforter, and it is not just me she is looking out for.  She is one of the truest and most reliable friends anyone could ask for, and many know what it is like to call her friend.  Her helping hand never falters, wisdom seems to pour out of her, creativity is second nature, and her love seems unfailing.  Wit and genius sparkle in her hazel eyes and grace shows in her every movement.

In about two weeks, I am moving back home, where I will be a mere twenty minutes away from her again.  There is no way of knowing what will happen between us in the time to come, but I can tell you that it will involve more all night life chats, photo shoots, mugs of tea, study dates, and adventures I know God has planned. And I am looking forward to that!

If you want to check out her blog (her photography is amazing) click HERE!

Things People Don't Understand About Culinary Students.

We have real college degrees. 

We took English and math classes just like you.  I will not use my intro to physiology or religion classes in the kitchen, but I still had to take them. 

We love it when people cook for us.  

Please don't be scared to make us food.  We are food lovers not food critics.

We have weird names for things. 

"Robokus" are food processor.  "French" means knife. "Up at" means serve. "Side towels" are pot holders.  

We talk fast, use a lot of French terms, and don't measure.

Get used to it.

We laugh at one-use kitchen tools. 

Apple slicer? We have a knife for that.

We are passionate learners.

We learn best by mistakes, so expect some experiments that are disgusting or delicious... and if its good, don't ask us to replicate it the next night.  We weren't paying that much attention, we won't remember. 

We can work noon to midnight and still have energy to burn.

Our jobs are exciting and hard.  Adrenaline gets us through a shift and it hangs around for a few hours after.  If you want us to come home after work, we are gonna make noise... let us go out with the gang and grab food and drinks before we come home. 

We hate being still.

Don't ask us to sit till the job is done. 

We call things out.

"Sharp! Hot! Open! Behind! Hot and sloppy!" When we yell, pay attention.

We love people and serving them.

Which means working nights, weekends, and holidays.  Don't get upset about us missing Mothers Day... again. 

We hate doing dishes, but we hate not doing them.

Things have to be clean, and it drives us crazy when they aren't

We don't like people to touch our knives. Don't.

Our knives are an extension of our arms.  We know when they need to be sharpened, how they should be weighted, how the grip should be molded, and how we liked them cleaned.  Taking our knives is like taking away the keys from a teenager on their sixteenth birthday.  Expect some screaming. 

We will ask you to do things, but if you aren't fast enough, we will do them ourselves.

Don't get upset with us... we are just trying to get the job done.

We keep the sinks empty unless washing something.  

If we find something sharp hiding under the suds, you will get yelled at.

We have a flow.  

If you mess with it, we will get flustered.  It's just one of those weird ticks we have. 

We can be lewd, vulgar, insulting and obnoxious in the kitchen.

Take it into stride.  The kitchen can be a very stressful and dangerous place.  Even though we seem angry and upset, it is still one of our favorite places to be.

We are scarred.
In more ways than one. We are yelled at, harassed, questioned, and misunderstood even by the people who we love and who love us most.  Our hands also show the evidence, covered in burns and healed punctures, sometimes tattoos, and we are proud of them.

ALSO...

Your colorful knives are embarrassing.
Stop.

Beauty and Strength.

"You are beautiful. You are strong." 

I have heard these words a lot this week.  Compliments paid to me when I am helping someone with lab work or when I show up on the weekend to volunteer my time for an event.  Classmates ask me how I find the time to do everything, how I am strong enough to wake up before dawn every morning, even on my worst days.  How I never seem to let anyone know I am having a bad day. 

People believe that I am beautiful, happy, successful, and strong, but what do those even really mean.  What is beauty?  What is strength?

I don't feel beautiful, when my eyes rimmed with red and draped in purple. I don't feel strong when I break down in the middle of a classroom.  Beauty cannot be found in my hastily braided hair, and strength is not defined by hiding under the covers.

I am not beautiful.  I am not strong.  I am just a very good actress.

I keep a level head when people are counting on me, but I am put into a tailspin when I'm counting on myself to keep it together.  I try not to let people see me cry, I hide. That is not what I call strength.  I call that embarrassment, humiliation, weakness. Those are the words that come to mind when someone says nice things about me.  I smile at their ignorance about who I really am.  I never let the compliments sink in.

I smile. I work. I get the job done, but I'm crumbling.

To me, beauty means I am hiding behind God-given curls, mascara, and anything that will make it look like I got more than five hours of sleep.
To me, strength means I am hiding behind a smile and a convincing "I'm great."

I am not complimented by beauty or strength, because I see them for what they really are.  They are really just hiding.

So I am not beautiful, I am not strong.

I know these words aren't inspiring, I wish I could come up with some that are.  But today, as I am writing this, I look on in envy of those who seem to have their lives all together.

The ones who aren't crying in the middle of class.
The ones who are better at relationships.
The ones who don't need makeup to make them look flawless.

Then I realize, they are hiding too.  Just in a different way.  They don't struggle with everything that I do, but they have their own struggles they are hiding from the world.

So today, this post is to let any of you who feels crushed and weak know that you are not alone.  You are not the only one, you are not a bad person for crumbling, and it is okay to ask for help.  It is okay to just break down and need a hug, a bag of chocolate, and a day off every once and a while. And I promise you, you will be beautiful and strong again soon.