Happy St. Paddy’s Day, y’all! Who’s got plans to hit the pub tonight for a goblet of green beer? I wish I could say I did, but in a moment of sacrificial stupidity, I decided to give up alcohol for Lent this year. Sigh. Oh well, I’ll just have to live vicariously through your holiday-inspired Insta feeds! (Tag us!) In other news, a few links we’re loving this week:
I fear that I may never stop talking about the 5 short days the three of us spent in Paris. I never actually wrote anything in my notes about my time there, but I believe that to be because I knew I’d remember everything about this magical city. Every detail about the French streets, the romantic lights, and the quaint cafés. Every sound from the boats on the Seine, the taxis during our bike tour, and the music playing on the Champ de Mars. Even every smell from each and every crêpe that I ate that week, and boy did I ever NOT hold back on those. The locals there, the architecture of the buildings (from the modern addition of the prism in front of the Louvre to the renovations of Rodin’s house), the history behind the city…just about everything could never be erased from the deepest crevices of my mind. They are most certainly engraved there for the long haul.
We’ve all been there: It’s 4 o’ clock in the afternoon on your day off—AKA, the day that you planned to get your whole life together (i.e., clean the apartment, catch up on your side hustle, organize the pile of mail that’s been growing on the kitchen counter, shop for groceries, attend a yoga class…)—and all you’ve managed to do is make your bed, browse Pinterest for interior design ideas, and successfully post a photo of your smoothie bowl on Instagram. #goals
Welcome to the third (and final) installment of the heartbreak monologues, a post that tackles the age-old question: Can men and women be just friends? If you missed Part I and Part II, check ’em out! I hope you enjoy reading the conclusion to our Valentine’s Day series, starring:
The Romantically Unavailable Best Friend
THE STORY // About a year after my humiliating episode with Jared, I met a new guy (Simon) at a house party in college. I spotted him from across the room about halfway through the night and immediately thought of Flynn Rider from Tangled: he had the same slender build, long(ish) dark hair, relaxed demeanor, and—as I would come to find out—a refreshing directness about him that drew me in immediately.
In honor of Valentine’s Day (or perhaps in spite of it), I’m paying tribute to the failed flings that molded my younger years, and the three men that each played a specific role. In case you missed it, I covered my first taste of love—and my first heartbreak—in Part I of this series. Catch up here! Otherwise, enjoy Part II, a heartrending account of false hope and self-doubt, courtesy of:
The Self-Righteous Arse
(The Holiday‘s got me speaking British.)
THE STORY // Fast forward five years since our last undertaking: I’ve just turned twenty, and my “type” has evolved from Poetic Bad Boy to Uncomplicated Nice Guy. (Think Clark Kent, sans superpowers.) Growing more involved in my church, I spend a lot of time daydreaming about a strong Christian man with a heart of gold sweeping me off my feet. Well, in my third year of college, one finally does… And then, without warning, proceeds to drop me on my ass—I mean, arse.
With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the nature of romantic relationships—the joy they provoke, the agony that can ensue, and the everlasting marks they tend to leave on our hearts.
Before I met my husband at the tender age of 21, there was a small handful of boys (men?) that made a brief appearance in my mostly uneventful love life. And although I only officially dated one of them, I can honestly say that I learned a thing or two from all of them. Which is what sparked an idea: Rather than bore you with tales of my happily ever after (February doesn’t need any more mush), why not give tribute to the failed romantic endeavors that shaped my past? After all, these are the stories that we never forget.
January is a strange month, don’t you think? It arrives immediately after the holidays, and yet it feels a world away from the festive chaos of December. It is the return of routine after a season of letting loose and going with the flow. A clean slate, if you will, another crack at getting it right this time. With January comes a shift in priorities, resolutions for a better life and a happier you.
For perfectionists, January can seem both invigorating and threatening. A bitter wake-up call in the midst of a well-deserved slumber. Or, it can serve as a time to breathe. To reassess. To start over.
To show yourself—and everyone around you—a bit of compassion.
It’s that time of year again, friends. ‘Tis the season of peppermint hot chocolate, twinkling red lights, and tacky sweater parties. What’s not to love?
The bustling weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s are undoubtedly my favorite time of year, but they can also be some of the most stressful. Especially if, like me, gift shopping is not your forte. (What in the world do you buy your single, successful 32-year-old brother who vacations on private yachts every other weekend and has everything he needs? Beats me.)
Come December each year, despite the cozy comfort and merriment that winter is supposed to bring, I inevitably find myself feeling a little bit…well, anxious. Don’t you? Whether it be finding the perfect gift for your significant other, deciding what to wear to Christmas Vigil Mass, or throwing your very own New Year’s Eve bash—there’s always something to be thinking about. The stress of which never fails to show up on my face, in the form of a gnarly breakout. Oh joy!
It’s the year of 25! I celebrated my 25th birthday a month ago, and Kristen turned the big two-five just yesterday. (Pop open the champagne!) Come to find out, we’ve learned a few things in the last two-and-a-half decades of being alive. If we could go back ten or fifteen years, here’s what we would tell our much younger selves:
Good morning, readers! Just in case you missed it last month, welcome to our monthly “Coffee Talk” series, a Q&A feature of the women in our community with inspiring stories to tell. Each month, Kristen and/or I will be sitting down to chat with a lovely lady we genuinely look up to, and the highlights of conversation will be posted here for you to read. These women are beyond amazing, and we hope that you can in some way relate to or learn from the lives they lead and the words they share. That said, grab yourself a cup of joe and join in today’s #realtalk about the revolutionary #girlboss movement, kicking cancer to the curb, and what it means to “have it all.”
I’m thrilled to introduce our November guest, the one and only Megan Silianoff! In short, Megan is a 35-year-old ovarian cancer survivor, the author of 99 Problems but a Baby Ain’t One, and the founder of Houston’s coolest boutique PR firm.