While we were there, my husband got the call that he landed a new job! This is something we’ve been waiting on for more than six months, and something he’s been working toward for the past six years. More on that later…

Here are some other things that kept my month extra bright and joyful.

storytelling

With all the traveling I did, I didn’t read or watch much (pleeeeaseee comment article and movie/tv recs). But I did find a few new avenues of storytelling and people’s art that I really loved this month.

Wild Geese Podcast: This is slowly becoming my comfort podcast. The host, Anna Howard, is incredibly well-spoken and has a way of explaining life experiences that feels both grounding and relatable.

Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally: Picture this: It’s my first full day in Paris. I wake up extra early so I can curl my hair and make sure my makeup looks super good before walking to the Louvre. It’s a Friday morning, and Harry Styles has just dropped his fourth solo studio album. The third track—“Taste Back”—comes on. It finally gets to the chorus and you hear, “Must be lonely out in Paris if you talk like that…” AHH! But for real, I am very much enjoying this new album, and I can’t wait to see it in concert in October.

what i loved writing

I wrote several articles for my full-time job at 417 Magazine that I am so excited to share.

I wrote about a new small business in town called Ozarks Farm Stop. Its mission is to shine a light on local farmers and makers, helping them have a home for their products throughout the week rather than just on the weekends at a traditional farmers market.

At 417, we have a column called “We Tried It,” where a writer goes out into the community, tries something quirky and writes about the experience. I wrote two articles for this column, one about goat yoga and one on bookbinding.

When it comes to my passion project, which is this Substack page, I am proud of two of my recent articles. One details my adventures in Europe earlier in March with my best friends. The other dives into how to have a spring reset without the pressure of completely reinventing yourself.

what i loved baking

I have a recipe for you! One of my goals this year is to get more comfortable in the kitchen—cooking meals and baking. One of my favorite spring desserts is carrot cake, but as a gluten-free girly, I hadn’t had it in years. That is, until this month. Here’s my recipe for a gluten-free, single-serving carrot cake:

Ingredients:

• 3 tbsp gluten-free all-purpose flour

• 1 tbsp brown sugar

• 1 tbsp granulated sugar

• 1/4 tsp baking powder

• 1/4 tsp cinnamon

• Pinch of salt

• 2 tbsp milk (any kind)

• 1 tbsp oil (vegetable, melted coconut, or butter)

• 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

• 1/4 cup finely grated carrot (packed lightly)

Instructions:
Preheat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease your mini Dutch oven with butter or oil. In a small bowl, whisk together all of the dry ingredients until evenly combined, then stir in the milk, oil and vanilla until smooth. Fold in the carrots and any extras (like raisins, pecans, walnuts or crushed pineapple). Spoon the batter into the Dutch oven and gently smooth the top. Bake uncovered for 18 to 25 minutes, depending on the depth, until the top is set and a toothpick comes out mostly clean (I had to do the full 25 minutes). Let it cool for 5 to 10 minutes before eating so it can firm up and develop that soft, cake-like texture.

For any easy cream cheese frosting to top the cake with, mix two tablespoons of cream cheese (softened), one and a half tablespoons of powdered sugar and a tiny splash of vanilla. However, I just used good ol’ store-bought Betty Crocker icing.

march’s small joys:

🌼 at-home matcha lattes
🌼 buying new spring wardrobe staples
🌼 planning my first garden
🌼 smoothies (they’re underrated)
🌼 borrowing my best friend’s favorite books
🌼 homemade lemonade

I am so excited for April as the weather continues to get warmer. 2025 was a tough year, so I’m proceeding with caution, but things are looking brighter so far.

Now, though, I love spring. I think that shift came from caring less about what people think and more about how I can take small, daily steps to feel better in my own life. Instead of emerging from winter completely transformed, spring feels like an opportunity to start just a little bit fresh. To add things that make my life better, rather than trying to become a different person entirely.

These are small things I’m adding to my life starting today to make it that much better this spring.

1. opening the windows, even when it’s still a little too cold, and letting fresh air count as productivity

Do you remember that feeling growing up, when you’d wake up on a Saturday or Sunday morning and wander to the kitchen for breakfast? You’d feel the slight breeze coming in from the windows, mixed with that crisp, earthy air. It was instant serotonin.

2. going on walks without tracking them or turning them into a goal

Working a desk job, and a traditional 8–5 makes it easy to overthink movement, but spring feels like the perfect time to reset that mindset without overthinking it. Walk outside with the simple intention of breathing in fresh air or letting the sun graze your cheeks. Instead of feeling like it’s something you have to do, look at it as something you get to do after a long winter.

3. morning sun instead of morning scroll

This is something I need to prioritize. Those first 10 minutes after you wake up really do set the tone for the rest of the day. Instead of immediately rolling over to check what I missed overnight, I plan to leave my phone on the charger, open my curtains and let the sun hit my skin.

4. cleaning one small surface instead of the entire space

As previously mentioned, I’m not a fan of spring cleaning. Something about it feels like a lot of pressure, so instead of thinking I need to clean my entire space or get rid of everything all at once, I’m focusing on one surface at a time. First my coffee bar, then my dresser, then my nightstand and so on.

5. journaling one line about the day

I’m finally ready to admit I’ve fallen off my journaling game. Part of it is that I write professionally, so when I try to wind down, I’m not always excited to write just for myself. To ease back in, I want to write a single line or sentence each day—something small, simple and entirely for me.

This list is nothing dramatic, just small steps into a happier, healthier version of myself.

Other things I’m looking forward to this spring:

🌷 Planting my first garden
🌷 Driving with the windows down
🌷 Computer work on my front porch instead of in my office
🌷 Going on walks with my dog
🌷 Listening to The Tortured Poets Department (it’s become an April ritual)
🌷 April showers (and May flowers!)

My most recent adventure? 10 days, four countries, one carry-on suitcase and memories I can’t wait to share.

Paris, France

When my husband, Nick, and I were planning this trip, we knew we’d be visiting three new cities, and we wanted our fourth one to be familiar. For us, the pick was obvious: Paris.

I would consider Paris my soul city. No matter how many times I visit, it’s the city I dream of going back to as soon as I leave. The first place we stopped by was Copains Bakery, an entirely gluten-free pastry shop. I eat 100% gluten-free, which can be difficult in cities known for croissants and decadent pastries, but Copains was excellent! Our second stop and main priority was my favorite place in the world: The Louvre. I could have spent the whole day in the Louvre just staring at paintings—it’s my happy place. However, we were packing a lot into two and a half days in the city, so we spent about four hours admiring the art and then headed to the Latin Quarter.

There, we toured the recently restored Notre-Dame Cathedral, and we shopped in the Marais. We looped back around to the 6th arrondissement, stopping by places like Shakespeare and Company bookstore, Melodies Graphiques, Ralph Lauren Cafe and Debauve & Gallais chocolatier.

During our second day in Paris, we strolled through the Luxembourg Gardens and the 8th arrondissement, walking along Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Nick planned a dinner at a fully gluten-free Italian restaurant called Su Musura by Ciro, and it made all my Italian food dreams come true. I’m still thinking about it. We ended our time in Paris with a river cruise on the Seine, a tradition we have each time we visit our favorite, romantic city.

Prague, Czech Republic

Our journey to our Prague day trip began at 2 a.m.

We woke up, checked out of our hotel, ordered an Uber to the bus stop, boarded a one-and-a-half-hour bus to the airport and then flew another hour and a half to Prague. When we arrived at our hotel in Prague at 8:30 a.m., you can imagine the joy that flooded our veins when they told us our room was ready, despite check-in being at 4 p.m. We rested up and then hit the city.

Prague is layered and a little moody. It’s mysterious and quietly beautiful. Walking across the Charles Bridge, you can see the city from both sides of the bridge, scattered with rust-colored roofs and castle-like peaks. Some of our favorite things in Prague were the coffee from (A)void Cafe, chimney cakes, the painted street signs and hidden art throughout the city.

At night, while looking for a place for dinner, a hole-in-the-wall pizzeria found us, serving some of the best gluten-free pizza we’d ever had. We ended our time in Prague with a toasted hot chocolate and another walk along the Charles Bridge to see the city views at night.

Munich, Germany

Nick and I took a five-hour bus from Prague to Munich, Germany, for only $13 each. This is the part of the trip where we went from staying in cozy, luxe hotels to the unknown of hostels. We met up with our friends and went to reveal where we’d be staying for the next two nights. To our surprise, the hostel was stunning. It had six beds built into the walls like cubbies, enough room for a couch, two showers and built-in cabinets big enough to store our suitcases flat and open. We were stoked.

Our first destination was the Rathaus-Glockenspiel, and we made it just in time to see the carillon, which features 43 bells and 32 life-sized figures that re-enact 16th-century historical scenes. From there, we went to Hofbräuhaus München, the world’s most famous historic beer hall, for a German dinner.

Munich is traditional with a modern undercurrent. There was no shortage of things to do, and some of our favorites were visiting the Munich Residenz, strolling through the airplane exhibit at the Deutsches Museum and seeing the views from the top of the tower of New Town Hall.

Edinburgh, Scotland

Edinburgh was the city I was most excited to visit—a fairytale town with literary history. As a writer, it’s a dream.

Our first hours in Edinburgh, though, were a bit rocky. The six of us arrived at 1 a.m. at our hostel, hopeful for what a six-bed private room could be after our positive experience in Munich. However, we were let down exponentially. Without getting too into the details, let’s just say we stayed one night and checked out first thing in the morning, booking a last-minute Airbnb.

We didn’t let that get us down, though. Once we settled into our new rooms, we hit the ground running. First stop: a shop to buy an umbrella… because it was pouring. Classic Edinburgh.

We wandered over to The Writers’ Museum, a free museum dedicated to authors Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson. From there, we meandered through the streets, in awe of the architecture.

During the two days we were in Edinburgh, we ate at places like Makers Mash Bar (the gluten-free Scottish egg and sticky toffee pudding were two of my favorite things I ate the entire trip), Landy’s Fish and Chips and The Elephant House—famous for being the “birthplace” of Harry Potter. We had cappuccinos from The Milkman and cocktails from The Alchemist. We strolled through Dean Village and saw views of the city from Edinburgh Castle. We even did a pub crawl, visiting seven different pubs in Edinburgh (which really should be nicknamed ‘the city that never sleeps,’ by the way, because people are out all hours of the night). It was the perfect place to end our dream European vacation.

My love for seeing the world is always reignited by trips like these. I spend so much time planning and dreaming, and then suddenly the trip is here, and it’s everything I hoped for. Then I come home with a little post-vacation blues lingering. But it’s also a reminder of why I work so hard and dream so big in the first place.

Everyone I know says they want a slower life. And almost everyone I know is still panicking. We’ve learned how to romanticize a slow life, but not how to live one. We leave the big lights off (warm lamps and candles only), drink hot tea, journal and go on walks, but beneath the gentleness is the same fear of falling behind.

The strange part is that nothing is actually wrong at all. There’s no deadline chasing us or any piece of life that needs solving. The panic feels unearned, which somehow makes it worse.

I see it in everyone and everything around me, like articles that tell us to slow down and enjoy the quiet, accompanied by a list of 100 ways to maximize your free time. The aesthetic of a slow life has spread faster than the skill itself (because, yes, mastering a slow life is a skill). We’ve dressed slowness in movie nights, taper candles, fresh-baked cookies and crafts, but most of us are still wired to achieve, react quickly and live a fast-paced life.

I find this especially true for people in their early 20s. Their whole life, all they’ve known are days laid out for them, anchored by school, homework and extracurriculars. Then, for those who choose college, life speeds up even more, every day feeling more consequential—weighted with a deadline, a test, a goal. And then you finally, truly enter adulthood and are handed the option of a slower life. And you have absolutely no idea what to do with it.

It’s hard to fully embrace the goodness of a slow life; it’s not something that comes naturally. I now have the time to do the things I’ve been longing for (read, practice yoga, cook), but it feels overwhelming. I end up scrolling on my phone for hours, just to keep my mind from wandering, and by the end of the day, I can’t even remember a single moment that felt meaningful. Which leaves me to wonder if a “slow” life is really about speed at all or more about control and learning how to be present without letting anxiety take over.

If you feel like you’re failing at living a slow or peaceful life, you’re far from the only one. Most of us were trained for urgency; it’s practically woven into our DNA. A peaceful life takes practice. And maybe the goal isn’t a slow life at all—it’s a sustainable life, focused on balance, built around habits and routines that truly fill your cup, guided by choices you can maintain over time (for your health, your work, your relationships and your environment) without burning out.

Instead of focusing on the aesthetics of slow living, I’m aiming to highlight the goodness of balance. It’s okay to love a packed, busy day, check check checking off the to-do list items, as long as those days are woven between ones of rest, positive habits and little choices that make life feel manageable and meaningful.

I love using this vertical to reflect on the past month. January in particular is my least favorite month of the year. It always seems to inch by slowly, it’s cold cold cold in the midwest and it’s filled with “what-ifs” and unknowns for the year to come. But reflecting on January helps me notice the good I usually miss and hold onto the bright spots that did show up.

storytelling

One of my goals for the year is to consume more art, including books, movies, TV shows, articles and more. I used to think watching movies and TV was lazy, but in the age of short-form content, choosing something longer with intention and meaning feels almost productive. Here are some of my favorites from January:

People We Meet on Vacation: I loooooved this movie. I can see it becoming one of my comfort watches. I didn’t read the book, which I think helped, because I’ve heard through the grapevine that readers weren’t huge fans of the adaptation. The casting felt spot-on, and it was such a feel-good watch.

Traitors: After The Summer I Turned Pretty and Dancing With The Stars, I’m thrilled to have another show to look forward to each week. I wasn’t a huge fan of last season, but I’m absolutely loving this season of Traitors. Is it because Rob Rausch might be one of the best characters to grace reality TV screens in years? Possibly.

what i loved writing

A few of my stories came out in 417 Magazine and Biz 417 that I really loved and spent a lot of brainpower on.

Researchers at Missouri State University discovered an unknown civilization, or a lost city, in the Amazon. I had the chance to interview them and dive deeper into their findings.

I covered the opening of The Story House Bookstore in downtown Springfield, run by a brother-sister duo and a longtime friend. They have big dreams for this space, and I’m excited to watch it grow.

Many larger cities have underground systems where workers mine limestone or other rock, leaving subterranean spaces. I wrote about Springfield’s underground system and where it all began.

2026 ins and outs

I’m usually not one for making ins and outs lists, but using this as a guide has helped me focus my energy this month and let go of what no longer serves me.

ins:

• reading nonfiction

• print media

• finding creative hobbies

• eating 100% gluten-free

• voice memos instead of long texts

• getting eight hours of sleep (especially on weekdays)

• a luxurious night routine

outs:

• doom scrolling

• overconsumption (no, I don’t need that sweatshirt in another color)

• getting takeout more than cooking at home

• everything performative

• polka dots (sorry!)

• quiet luxury

• nonchalance

small joys:

⭐ brown butter lattes
⭐ almond flour chocolate chip cookies
⭐ sledding
⭐ using mason jars as iced coffee cups
⭐ my heated blanket (lifesaver)
⭐ homemade cards

I am hoping February brings slightly warmer weather, more art and positive media to consume, more home-cooked meals (please share your favorite recipes) and screen-free hobbies.

from the photo archives:

Most of the art that matters most to me didn’t come from someone trying to make the next big thing, or really by someone with the urge to be seen at all. It came from someone with a deep desire to create, so deep that they thought they might die if they didn’t create. And so many people feel this way, then still talk themselves out of doing anything at all. They say they’re not talented enough or disciplined enough. Or, they tell themselves they’ll do it when they have more time, are more confident or are more qualified.

One of the best things you can do for yourself is to bring to life the thing you’ve always wanted to make. Make it loud, make it quietly, make it bad, make it yours. Write it in your notes app, film it in your kitchen, paint it on scrap paper, say the thing you keep editing in your head out loud and then say it again.

I often think, what if some of my favorite singers, authors, actors, never put themselves out there in the way that they did? We wouldn’t just be missing their work, we would be missing the way it helped people feel seen.

More than ever, the world needs more art that can only come from a person paying attention to their own life. Someone out there is waiting for the thing you are afraid to make. It might be that creative spark they needed, help them through a tough chapter of life or simply remind them they’re not alone.

Been thinking about this little reminder over the past week, and thought, if I can’t stop thinking about it, someone must need to hear it. Whoever you are, I can’t wait to see your art. 💫

It wasn’t until the end of high school, when I had no idea what I wanted to study in college, that my dad suggested I could find a traditional career through my love for putting pen to paper. The summer before my senior year, I attended a two-week program in New York City that solidified it for me. I went on to graduate from college with a degree in journalism, specializing in reporting and writing.

My job is one of the things I’m most grateful for in this life. I feel lucky to even have a job in this day and age. While yes, there are aches, annoyances and days that feel endless, I really do feel fortunate that I spend my days in a career that regularly fuels me and sparks my creativity. After nearly three years in the industry, I’ve collected a few lessons that stick.

1. everyone has a story

But not everyone feels they have a way to tell it. That’s one reason I love this platform—it gives people a place to share thoughts, feelings, beliefs and ideas with anyone willing to listen. My favorite part of being a journalist is talking to people, especially those in my own community, and helping their voices be heard on a larger scale.

About a year ago, I interviewed a local sports superfan about the recent national recognition he received. What started as a casual conversation about football turned into a personal story about the recent passing of his 7-year-old son, and how that lighthearted sports recognition helped spark moments of joy in the darkest times of his life. It’s moments like this that remind me everyone has a story they’re working through, and you never know which chapter they’re in. Which goes into my next point…

2. listening is a way to show others how much you care

How many times have you wanted to just get something off your chest? Whether that be through a phone call with your mom, over coffee with your best friend or in bed at night with your partner. It’s come to my attention in this career that many people don’t have that, a person to turn to who will be a sounding board for them. It’s shown me the importance of being that for other people in my personal life. Someone who can absorb and understand.

3. closure is rare

So many topics, conversations and stories are left open-ended. Not everyone gets the answers they’re looking for. Not everyone gets answers at all. I’ve learned to live with partial truths and unanswered questions, and, surprisingly, to find peace in that.

4. some people want you to ask the uncomfortable questions

Discomfort doesn’t mean disrespect. The questions I’ve been most afraid to ask often turn out to be the ones that matter most. Most of the time, people aren’t upset that you asked, rather they’re relieved someone did.

5. perspective is shaped by who you talk to

Being a journalist quietly rearranges your worldview, conversation by conversation. Reporting puts you in rooms you’d otherwise might not find yourself in. Hospitals, daycares, nonprofits, niche small businesses. I find myself woven into these worlds with a hyper amount of knowledge about their every struggle and every success. It becomes difficult to put people into stereotypes or boxes. It challenges the filtered worlds we all accidentally build around ourselves.

The biggest thing I’ve realized is that these lessons aren’t really about journalism at all—they’re about people. The more we talk to new people, listen, hear their stories and try to understand, the more we soften ourselves. We grow more curious, more patient and more aware of the complexity in everyone around us. That, I think, is the part worth carrying beyond any career.

2025 was one of the hardest years I’ve had in a while, and I feel like I’ve been hearing the same from friends and peers. While there were many good, exciting moments throughout the year, I also struggled with health, routine and the ongoing adjustment to a new era of life.

I am someone, though, who loves a do-over. I love the idea of a new year as a chance to reset and reinvent pieces of my life. I know there is a lot of chatter about New Year’s resolutions and the pressure tied to January 1, but personally, I love it. To me, it feels like permission—an opportunity—to start over.

This past week, I’ve been evaluating areas of my life where I might want to make a change. I’ve been researching hobbies I want to take up, and habits I want to crush, as well as ones I want to start. Perhaps more on that later in a separate post. For now, these are all of the things I’ve loved in 2025.

What I loved reading:

New year resolution for 2026 No. 1: read, read, read! I did not come even close to reading as much as I wanted to this year. The mental overload was too much, but I am making it more of a priority in this next year. I did, however, consistently love Caitlyn Richardson of milk fed’s Substack articles. She brings out a sort of inspiration and critical thinking I’ve been missing in my life since college.

In a similar realm, I’ve loved Ayushi Thakkar’s milk & cookies. My favorite post of her’s this year was one titled, “on social values, moral confusion, and being a decent human offline.”

Some of my other favorite articles of 2025 include Intelligencer’s piece on AI, “Everyone Is Cheating Their Way Through College,” Vogue’s cover story on Hailey Bieber, “Hailey Bieber Is Shutting Out the Noise—and Finding Her Bliss” and Elle’s profile of Daisy Edgar-Jones, “Daisy Edgar-Jones Takes the Lead.”

What I loved writing:

If anything, this year reminded me how lucky I am to work in the industry I once only imagined. Journalism is woven into my sense of self, and I don’t take for granted that I get to live inside it every day.

My favorite article I wrote this year was, by far, 417 Magazine’s March cover story, “Sounds of the Ozarks.” I explored the lives of local musicians as well as the Ozarks’ history of musical talent. In December, I wrote another cover story all about pets, which felt especially fun this year since I became a first-time pet owner.

When it comes to my Substack, I feel so thankful for this growing community and creative outlet. Some of my personal favorites include “what if the dream looks different up close?” “i don’t have a favorite color,” “notes on soft ambition” and “confessions of a nostalgia-aholic.”

What I loved watching:

Sooo many things. I loved watching The Summer I Turned Pretty and having something to look forward to each week. I cannot wait for the movie, whenever that is actually happening. The same was true for Dancing With the Stars. This was my first year watching, and it was nice to have a weekly ritual to get excited about.

This was the year I finally fell for reality TV. I was sucked into Love Island, and I absolutely devoured Love Thy Nader, The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives and Traitors. I am unashamed (and also incredibly basic).

In 2026, I’m planning to watch some of those classic everyone-should-see-this movies, like The Titanic, The Great Gatsby and Gone With the Wind. This holiday season, I watched The Holiday for the first time, and it quickly became my favorite Christmas movie ever.

What I loved listening to:

Obviously, I loved The Life of a Showgirl. It’s the die-hard Swiftie in me—it’s just inevitable (my favorite songs are “Honey” and “Actually Romantic”).

More surprisingly, my favorite song of the year is Kelsea Ballerini’s “People Pleaser.” I almost wrote an entire Substack post just to sit inside the feelings it stirred. Every single line cuts deep and resonates. Her entire EP, Mount Pleasant, is great, but that song takes the cake for sure.

I also spent time with Olivia Dean’s discography this year. I love how classy and sophisticated her sound is at such a young age. It felt like a softness the music industry has been missing.

2025’s small joys:

• Paris

• Extremely oversized cozy sweatshirts (Parke really is that girl)

• Vintage designer watches

• Rhode everything—blush, skincare, peptide lip tints

• Computer work while sitting outside

• Day trips

• Gluten-free cinnamon rolls

• Becoming more analog

• Handwritten anything

• Adding color in home design

• Thoughtful gift-giving

I am cautiously excited for everything 2026 might bring. Whatever it is, I hope it’s soft, new, lovely and maybe a little life-changing.

I turned 25 four months ago, and nothing about me feels drastically changed compared to who I was at 21, or even 20 or 19. There was no sharp moment that made me feel older or wiser. But I know, in a way that’s hard to explain, I’m practically brand new.

I actually had to go back and read journal entries from the last four years for the growth to really click.

“I am scared for what’s to come after college. What if I don’t find a job? What if there isn’t enough structure in my life?” —February 10, 2022

A year later, the anxieties of growing up were still there, just in a different shape:
“Yesterday, I accepted my first adult job. I am definitely suffering from a bit of imposter syndrome, but I am excited to get started.” —January 20, 2023

Just a handful of months following, life looked a whole lot different:
“Too much time has passed, but I am writing this one month after Nick and I’s wedding in Spain—to say it was perfect would be an understatement.” —October 14, 2023

And nearly another year later, I wrote:
“I quit my job! And got a new one! There’s been a lot going on at my job, but I feel really good about where I stand here. I even wrote one of the biggest stories of the year so far! Hopefully the fear of being fired at any moment goes away soon.” —September 27, 2024

Then, just earlier this year:
“We just got back from the most restorative week in Europe! London, Oxford and Paris…” —March 3, 2025

When I line moments up like this, the growth is obvious, but it all felt unremarkable as it was happening. It actually felt like life was happening around me, and I was just existing. I hope, if anything, this is a gentle reminder to sit and think about everything you’ve accomplished in the last five years—or at least everything you’ve changed intentionally.

Since I turned 21, I’ve graduated from college, gotten married, bought a house, traveled a whole lot, got a puppy, started a new job, quit said job, started a different new job, written many magazine cover stories and had tiny wins and some of the best days all in between those moments.

I never want to let this time pass me by. Even this last year, 2025, has felt slow and uneventful, especially compared to the years that came before it. But when I look a little closer, the days add up differently. The days I worked my 8–5, I was helping to provide for my family. The days that felt like laziness or rotting were probably just days I was recharging. So far, year 25 has been a season that doesn’t need to prove anything. Not every year needs to be loud to matter.

What’s really changed from age 21 to 25 is hard to list. I trust my instincts more, I feel smarter, and I’m more prepared for big moments and life changes I thought may never come. I still have questions about life and the future, but those questions feel less like sirens and more like things I’ll figure out with time. At 21 years old, every unknown felt like a threat, while at 25, they really just feel like doors that have yet to open.

I’ve been thinking about my life like a thrift store. You know, the kind of place that smells like your grandparents’ basement and has shelves full of things that are a little weird, a little one of a kind and deeply personal. The sort of place where you have to slow down and really look if you want to find anything worth keeping.

The end of every year pushes me to sift through my habits and decide what I want to keep, change or quietly let go. It’s no secret—I think everyone feels it—that 2025 was just not our year. It definitely wasn’t my year. I struggled with health issues in the latter half of the year, I drowned in work and I lost a lot of the positive habits I should have protected. Big life changes knocked me off my routine, and I haven’t quite settled back into it.

Which is why this thrift store mindset has felt so gentle. I’m not hauling my entire life to the curb or committing to something destined to collapse by February. I’m not even making a spreadsheet to track my progress (though, you could!). I am just acknowledging what belongs and what never did.

Some of my favorite thrift finds include a chipped, vintage Christmas mug, gorgeous gold frames, a cutie swan that sits on my bookshelf and wicker baskets I have scattered throughout my house. Each of those pieces earned its spot in my house because it felt right, not because it matched a perfect plan.

The real appeal to this way of evaluating life is that nothing has to be perfect to be treasured. Planning to be active a bit each day is just as great as planning to get 10,000 steps each day. Or promising to jot something meaningful in your journal each day is just as valuable as setting a goal to write three full pages or 500 words a day.

I’m not trying to turn myself into a new person this year. But I am evaluating my daily habits and keeping what feels good and fuels me and dropping what’s holding me back. Each day’s small, imperfect treasures can add up to the best version of myself.

inherited traditions

Growing up, there was one thing that I knew would signal my launch into adulthood: being allowed to shop on Black Friday. My mom got up with her mom every Black Friday before the sun rose. Sometimes they didn’t even sleep after Thanksgiving, heading straight to Walmart or Toys R Us (r.i.p.) as soon as the dishes were done to sit in line for hours to purchase toys for my siblings and me. I longed for that rush of a different shopping experience and to see what all the fuss was about. Even when I turned 16, I wasn’t allowed to shop in person on Black Friday because my parents worried about traffic and my not-so-seasoned driving skills. But once I was 18 and my middle sister was 12, we created our own tradition of getting up as early as possible to score the best deals. Now, seven years later, with our youngest sister joining in too, it has become my favorite holiday ritual. We get up, grab a holiday drink from Starbucks and go straight to the mall to be there when it opens at 6 a.m. By 8 a.m., we have finished all our Christmas shopping, picked up wrapping paper from Target and sat down for brunch feeling overly satisfied. It is consumerism at its worst, but to me, it’s a collection of my favorite memories with my sisters.

chosen traditions

There comes a time in life when you realize you don’t have to keep up the traditions your family always did. Your adult lens shifts, and you understand that you are choosing to keep the magic alive.

I have a couple of these traditions. Each year, all my siblings, my husband and I go to our parents’ house to put up the Christmas decorations. It sounds like a normal holiday ritual except for two things. First, my mom has more Christmas decorations than the White House. Second, my dad likes to put them up in record time (under an hour). It ends up being this game that we all actually need each other for.

Another favorite tradition I choose to carry on is watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation on Christmas Eve. We make hot chocolate in our favorite Christmas mugs and snack on popcorn and my mom’s famous fudge while all trying to fit on the living room couches. We know the nearer we get to the end of the movie, the closer we get to Christmas morning.

accidental traditions

I love an accidental tradition (and I am manifesting more) because they happen serendipitously and add so much to my life each year.

I’m in my third holiday season married, which is just completely different than before. One of my favorite traditions I have created is making Christmas cards each year and sending them to practically everyone we know. This year, we even got professional photos taken for the cards. The crafter and stationery lover in me finds it incredibly satisfying.

A couple of years ago, my mom decided to drop off little tins of baked goods to friends and neighbors on Christmas Eve. That morning, my family gathered in the kitchen and made all kinds of treats. Chocolate chip cookies, no-bake cookies, ROLO pretzel delights, brownies, iced sugar cookies. The next year, we craved that same holiday baking feeling and decided to do it again, and it became an accidental tradition we now look forward to the entire month of December.

All these traditions make up who I am. They’re tiny lights on a path that bring me so much joy each November and December. I love them because they help me honor the past, stay present and feel excited for everything still ahead.

The biggest milestone this month was hitting my two-year workiversary at the job I once prayed with everything in me to get. It feels like forever and also no time at all. Being a journalist, I’m extremely grateful to even have a job in this industry—it’s oversaturated and tough to break into. I’m constantly wondering what could be next for me, and I haven’t landed on anything yet, but I’ll keep dreaming without limitations.

I always find it hard to unplug this time of year. I’ve been noticeably more on my phone, and I’m pledging to change that (please send your screen-free hobby recommendations!). I hope my November recap is more extensive than this, but nonetheless, here’s everything I loved this month.

What I loved reading:

Eli Rallo’s Does Anyone Else Feel This Way? made its way to my front porch this month. When I saw back in March that preorders came with a signed copy, I was sold. I read about three-fourths of her first book, I Didn’t Know I Needed This, but the topics were about dating, high school and college, and I am married and graduated from college, so I found it just not fitting for me in my stage of life. However, Does Anyone Else Feel This Way? is geared more toward post-grad twenty-somethings figuring life out, and I’m loving it so far.

What I loved writing:

I did a ton of writing for work in October, but none of it will actually come out until December or January. I can’t wait to share it all with you!

In October, I pondered the idea of soft ambition and what it means to still want the best for yourself career-wise, but also a slow, soft life. I went more in-depth in my Substack article, “notes on soft amition.”

What I loved watching:

It’s football season, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m a huge NFL fan—specifically the Chiefs. (And no, not in a bandwagon way. I’ve had season tickets for six years!) I’ve loved cozying up for Sunday games and making a few trips to Kansas City to see them in person.

I’ve also been loving Dancing with the Stars (I know, me and everyone else). There’s just something about having a weekly comfort show. My favorites are Robert and Alix, but I think Whitney is going to win.

And one thing about me: I’m a sucker for a good reality TV show. I devoured Love Thy Nader, following the Nader sisters and their lives, and I’m crossing my fingers for a season two.

What I loved listening to:

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: I haven’t stopped listening to Taylor Swift’s Life of a Showgirl. I don’t have any hot takes—it is a great album! I think it is sonically cohesive, Taylor sounds amazing and it is a bop. I truly don’t think there is a skip on the album so it’s hard to rank them, but my No. 1 favorite is “Honey.” Also, I am a “Wood” stan!

Spotify’s also been feeding me some Olivia Dean lately, and I’m adoring her music. My current favorite is “Baby Steps.”

Small joys:

• New glasses

• Music merch

• Hot lattes instead of iced

• A new quilted makeup bag

• Pumpkin spice lattes

• Sitting on the porch while it rains

Now, ambition feels more like a steady hold on what I already have.

My days used to be measured by how many boxes I checked, ruled by that to-do list. And now I feel more successful when I can look up from my laptop and appreciate everything around me. And I truly mean that.

when drive turns rigid

Life spent alone can turn selfish. There’s a difference between living alone and living for yourself. When I was in college, I was living practically by myself (with detached roommates), three hours away from the life I always knew. While I wouldn’t have labeled myself as selfish at the time, I was all I had. Each day was about me—what should I have for dinner? Where should I go to study tonight? How can I make sure I pass this test? There wasn’t much room for anyone else.

I had two amazing friends in college (you know who you are <3 who I still talk to today, and I don’t know how I would have survived those years without them. I unknowingly grew a deep desire for success. I had to be the next big thing in my field. It was borderline unhealthy because it’s all I thought about. I applied to jobs every single day, and only the big ones.

Now, I want to make this clear: There is nothing, at all, wrong with wanting to be the best. Wanting to climb the ladder. Wanting to make a name for yourself. It’s when that drive turns unhealthy and self-destructive that it becomes important to step back and peek at the bigger picture.

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slowing without stopping

Two and a half years ago, I interviewed for my dream job. Spoiler alert: I didn’t get it.

“If you can just get an interview, you’re in.” That’s what I kept telling myself. My friends told me, too. I visited the Forbes’ offices in New Jersey, even, and a part of me just knew this is where I would be. In April, a week after I submitted my application to be a lifestyle writer, I got the email I’d been waiting for: “We’d love to set up an interview with you.” Over. The. Moon. I had my phone interview and an edit test and was convinced both went amazingly. Later that same week, I received the rejection. I’m not one to put all my eggs in one basket, but I was definitely envisioning what my life would look like on the water in New Jersey, less than 30 minutes from New York City. Scratch that.

Instead, I moved home, applied at a regional magazine I’d been reading for years, signed on as their only staff writer and started a new life I hadn’t really been picturing for a long time, if we’re being honest. Because everyone’s dream is to move back home… right?

Here’s what I didn’t know when I received the rejection letter. I didn’t know I was going to get engaged to my favorite person in a few weeks. I didn’t know that in less than two years at the regional magazine, I’d be buying my first house and adopting a puppy. I didn’t know I’d get to spend the most meaningful moments with my parents and siblings every week, growing closer than ever. I’d fall in love with this pocket of the country, weekends at the farmers market, playing pickleball with new friends, shopping at local spots that are people’s livelihoods. This life was waiting, quietly, in plain sight.

question your momentum

All that’s to say: question everything. What I thought was healthy ambition was, in some ways, self-destruction. I’m still ambitious, but my desires have changed. There’s so much beauty in the unknown.

I recently saw a quote that read, “Six luxuries in life: time, health, a quiet mind, slow mornings, meaningful work and a house full of love.” This is resonating with me more and more each day.

Soft ambition feels weirdly satisfying. I still want things, but now I mostly want them without breaking myself. Not getting what I wanted turned out to be the catalyst for getting what I actually needed.

What I return to again and again is this: we’re here to love one another. It’s natural to let the world harden you. Each experience is another reason to distance or isolate yourself. But it takes real strength to stay soft in a world that’s meant to tear you down.

These are the practices I’m holding onto right now. I hope they find a place in your own days, too, making life a little sweeter and softer.

choose noticing

Life is layered in gentleness. Picking up on the small things that make each day a little better ultimately makes life softer. Things like the leaves finally turning orange, the smell of woodsmoke on your walk, the neighbor swapping out the wreath on their front door, your coworker cutting their hair. Attention is an act of tenderness.

respond slowly

I am at my worst when I act on impulse, particularly in arguments. Maturity sometimes looks like writing out the angry text in your notes app—then deleting it. Or waiting to respond in a meeting or to a triggering email. More often than not, it’s better to pause, let your heart rate settle and then choose your response. Responding slowly makes you a better person for your friends, family, partner, coworkers and, in turn, yourself.

let yourself like things

One of the kindest things you can do for yourself is let yourself love something uncool—and love it loudly. Some ways I’ve been doing this lately is by scrapbooking, collecting things for my junk journal, taking video clips to stitch them together and post on my platforms—all creative little outlets.

It’s so important to find things that take your mind off of the everyday mess life can be. Even if those things aren’t creative outlets—something more like getting into a sports team, trying a new daily workout, taking a class at a local college. How you spend your time shapes who you are.

practice gentleness with your body

What does gentleness look like for you? Is it a cup of tea at the end of the day while watching a show that helps turn your mind off? Is it lunch with a friend? Maybe it’s getting lost in the secret garden of a good book. Or maybe it’s more physical—going on walks or runs, taking a hot yoga class, making it a priority to stretch every single morning. Finding moments of gentleness allows you to return to yourself more grounded than before.

seek softness in others

Once you notice how easy it is to assume the worst, you can start looking for the best instead. It takes practice and self-awareness. Going hand-in-hand, who you surround yourself with is one of the most important things in life. Yes, you are your own person, but you truly are who you surround yourself with, too. If your circle is full of negativity, it seeps in, slowly, but surely. Softness multiplies when mirrored back to us.

Staying soft doesn’t mean avoiding the world, and it doesn’t mean being swallowed by it either. It means meeting life with joy, patience, gentleness and an open mind. I’m no expert, just practicing each day—trying to be a softer version of myself for me, and for the people I love.

I also turned 25 this month (still feels weird to say!). I like to think my frontal lobe is all there now… though I can’t say for sure. Beyond the birthday excitement, August always feels like a lovely bridge from summer to fall—a chapter closing with warmth and laughter, while the next one promises crisp air, pumpkin spice and football games.

We wrapped up the month by saying goodbye to our first apartment together, a space filled with growth, love and memories I wrote about a few months ago when I realized our time there was coming to an end. The next day, we hosted all our friends and family for a housewarming party! It was an afternoon filled with joy, sweet treats and so much appreciation for the people in our lives.

Even though August was one of the busiest months of the year so far, I still managed to find plenty of little joys—and some bigger ones too—that I can’t wait to share with you.

What I loved reading:

Okay, I know I say it nearly every month, but I didn’t do a ton of reading this month (she said while cringing). Remember when I said it was a busy month? I did, however, start a book I am planning to finish in September… more on that next month.

What I loved writing:

I was finally feeling extra-inspired this month, which is such a good feeling. Visiting my great-grandmother’s house and bringing some of her old decor into my own home was especially meaningful, and I was happy to write about it. Her delicate china set now sits proudly in my cabinet, a little piece of family history I get to live with every day.

I also spent some time reflecting on those in-between moments in life—the pauses between big milestones. It’s a space I’ve been exploring in my writing, and the feedback from readers has been so validating. So many people see themselves in these transitions.

On the career front, I poured a whole lot of energy into Biz 417’s cover story, “Best Places to Work,” which highlights the top 20 workplaces in southwest Missouri. I spoke with leaders from every business to hear how they made the list and what it means to them. It was inspiring to see how different teams define success and cultivate culture.

What I loved watching:

Still The Summer I Turned Pretty—specifically episode eight! And I’m just saying, if Belly doesn’t end up with Conrad, I might sue Jenny Han.

I’ve also been loving The Kingdom on Disney+. As a huge Kansas City Chiefs fan (my credentials are my season tickets and that I’ve lived in Missouri my whole life), it has been so entertaining to peek behind the scenes of the team during such a big year.

And, obviously, I loved watching the Taylor Swift New Heights episode where she announced her new album, The Life of a Showgirl, coming out on October 3. Prepare to be sick of me come October!

What I loved listening to:

“august” by Taylor Swift on repeat, obviously.

The last couple of days of August were marked by Sabrina Carpenter’s new album Man’s Best Friend. Her music is always a slow burn for me—I’m skeptical at first, and then it just clicks. This one was no exception. I am loving it now, and I am just obsessed with her wit and writing style. My top three are “Go Go Juice,” “When Did You Get Hot?” and “House Tour” (subject to change).

Small joys:

• Framing handwritten letters

• Vases filled with flowers in every corner of the house

• Pumpkin cream chai from Starbucks

• Enjoying my morning coffee on the front porch

• The farmers market every Saturday for tea

• S’mores

• Picnics in the park

I slipped on the first sweater of the season this morning before heading to work. It was the right choice at 7 a.m., cozy and soft against my skin, but by lunchtime, I was tugging at the sleeves, too warm under the midday sun. An inevitable part of summer persisting.

I’ve realized many times in life that I’ve been caught in the shift of stages, just like the less-than-smooth transition from summer to fall or winter to spring. The awkwardness from being 16 to 17 to 18—adolescence to adulthood. From high school to starting over at college. From college to career. Single to married. Apartment to house. Life doesn’t pause during these shifts, no matter how confusing or unfinished they feel.

For 17 years, August meant school supplies shopping. I’d wander the aisles of Target or Walmart with my mom, filling the cart with glitter pens, pink notebooks and bookmarks I probably never used. That ritual always carried with it the thrill of a fresh start. August always promised a clear next chapter. Now, well into my 20s, there’s no shopping trip to mark the turning of the season or a shift into the next phase of life.

I’m in the in-between right now. My husband and I bought a house in our hometown a couple of months ago, and we’re all settled in. I’m nearing two years at my current job and considering might be next, whether that’s looking for a new opportunity or growing our family.

In-between phases in life can feel dull. Stagnant, even. They feel like moments where growth halts, but I’m discovering it’s just the opposite. So much quiet growth happens in the in-between. These turning points prepare you for the next big thing. You learn how you’re filling your everyday moments and the changes that need to be made. For me right now, that means choosing how I spend quiet evenings after work, and how I spend my ever-important weekends. Instead of doom scrolling, I am trying to pick up more books, plan more dinner dates with friends, scrapbook, write freely, cook more meals and start new home projects. I am making use of my time—growing—until the next phase of life decides to arrive.

The in-between forces you to figure out what matters on a day-to-day basis: your health, your hobbies, your relationships. It invites a softer pace, a chance to notice details. The in-between isn’t a void, it’s its own season.

Wanda Jean never took no for an answer. She was as ornery as all get out, and she knew right from wrong better than anyone I know. She lived a life worth writing about, journeying from Swedeborg to St. Louis, Missouri, to California, and back to Swedeborg, collecting stories you’ll surely read about in a book one day. Family was everything to her, and so was faith. When she passed away earlier this year, it wasn’t entirely sad. She was going to see her Bobby, who we lost years ago.

Her farm in my father’s hometown is the cornerstone of his family. We visited many times a year, and it oozed warmth, always smelling faintly of buttermilk pie when she was home. In the corner of the living room stood a large cabinet with some of the most beautiful china dishes I’d ever seen: white porcelain with silver-soaked edges, blue rose and floral details woven across every plate, bowl, serving dish and teacup. I don’t know if it came from her mother or grandmother, but imagining the hands that once held it makes the past feel closer.

This week, I carried that very china set into my first house, where I’ll build my family. Now, it sits stacked neatly on my shelves, waiting. I can’t help but think of all the places these dishes have been before mine—at church picnics, on Thanksgiving and Christmas tables surrounded by joyful laughter, at tea parties with toddlers and long afternoons with the neighbors.

It’s more than just dishware. It’s a piece of history—my history. Through this fragile world, this china set has endured it all. Delicate enough to crack with a slip of the hand, yet strong enough to survive decades of use and love. It feels like a reflection of her: beautiful, stubborn and steady, even in her most breakable moments.

And now it’s here with me. While beautiful on the shelf, the truest way to honor it is by adding new dings and scratches gathered at housewarming parties, holiday dinners and afternoon tea with good conversation.

Someday, another young woman will excitedly show her friends this very set. She’ll say, “This belonged to my grandma Jordan,” or maybe even “great-grandma Jordan.” And I hope she’ll tell the story of Wanda Jean and all the places this china has been, carrying forward our family’s history from one set of hands to the next.

I wear my favorite outfit. I do my makeup the same. I wear my hair the way I know I love. I get my favorite coffee. I eat at my favorite restaurant and order the same thing I always do. Maybe it’s my way of easing into the unknown with things I already trust.

Today, I turn 25 years old. A quarter of a century. Quarter life crisis loading!

It’s strange to reflect on the last year and all the memories packed into it. The concerts, lake days, boring days, workdays, once-in-a-lifetime instances. I bought a house. I saw my favorite artists live. I went to many NFL games. I celebrated a year at my job (even though it’s felt like 10 years). I traveled to Paris, the UK, New York and South Carolina.

And still, it’s had its hard moments. After 23—the best year of my life—24 felt... a little muted. Unsteady. There were health struggles, everyday stressors, a lot of questioning. It wasn’t a year of big revelations. But still, I try to remind myself of the lessons I’ve learned in the past year and the collection of memories and good days.

So this is me taking inventory of what I’ve gathered, what I’ve let go of and what’s still unfolding.

what i’m carrying with me

There are people, places and pieces of advice that have quietly come with me, even as everything else has changed.

I’m happy to say I’m bringing all my friendships from the past year with me into this new season of life. As I grow older—and I know I write about it a lot—it’s not lost on me that the people in my life are what matter most. My friends and family come before any job, item or inconvenience. I feel deeply lucky to have the people I do.

I’m also carrying a quiet confidence I didn’t have at—let’s say—20. I still struggle with anxiety and self-doubt (who doesn’t?), but I’ve come to trust myself more: who I am, what I’m capable of and the creativity that’s always been there.

Other things I’m bringing with me in year 25:

• My journal. Literally! I’ve carried one with me since I was 6 or 7 years old. That habit isn’t going away now.

• My love for coffee and connection.

• A shopping addiction I’m not ready to part with just yet.

what i’m leaving behind

In year 25, I want to focus on being present. Back in January, I chose “intentionality” as my word of the year. A reminder to move with purpose, not panic. I have a bad habit of believing everything needs to happen all at once. But there’s always room to grow, and that’s one of the best parts of life.

Most of all, I’m moving on from the idea that 25 has to look a certain way. It doesn’t—it just looks like me.

This year, I also want to leave behind the feeling that if I can’t be productive right now, then it’s not worth trying at all. Too often, if I miss the perfect window or can’t complete a task in one sitting, I spiral straight to the couch, sulking, brain-rotting and mad at myself for doing nothing instead of something. Rest is productive, too.

(I’d love to say I’ll spend less time on my phone this year, but I’ve broken that promise too many times to make it again with a straight face.)

Other things I’m leaving behind this year:

• Comparing my pace to someone else’s timeline.

• Putting off tasks “just because.”

• Checking my phone as soon as I wake up.

what i’m still searching for

I’m still seeking balance between ambition and rest, between dreaming big and being okay with right now.

Equally, learning the difference between intuition and anxiety is something I’m hoping to figure out in year 25. It’s been a tough season for my mind, and I want to find ways to quiet it or at least make peace with it. To turn it into a place that feels calm, inspired and kind.

I’m also searching for a rhythm that fuels my creativity instead of draining it. I want to get inspired by magazines, books and spaces like Substack, rather than defaulting to the scroll of TikTok and Instagram.

Other things I’m searching for in year 25:

• A consistent morning routine.

• The perfect latte recipe.

• The balance between documenting life and actually living it.

• A reason to stop doomscrolling.

Here’s to year 25: a little softer, a little slower and still unfolding.

It continued with health issues (ones I’ve been dealing with for months and still not ready to talk about) and emotional rollercoasters. It’s interesting how life persists through the bad days. Even in the midst of those, I found moments where I felt my happiest, like moving into my new house, spending weekends at the lake with my best friends and family, finishing projects at work and attending a beautiful wedding. These times reminded me that there is still good in each and every day, even when I have to search a little deeper to find it.

I’ve been trying to get my creative side back. You might’ve noticed I haven’t posted much lately. That’s because I’ve felt completely zapped of inspiration. But I’m slowly working to bring the spark back, doing what I know I love, returning to hobbies that fuel me.

Through it all, I’ve still been soaking up the things that fill my time and my cup. Here’s what I’ve loved this month:

What I loved reading:

I almost skipped this section because the first word that came to mind was nothing. But that’s not entirely true. I continue to love milk fed’s content here on Substack. It scratches my brain in the best way and keeps me inspired. I’m in awe of how much thought and content she shares with her audience.

I am hoping that once I settle into my new house, the fall will bring with it a cozy desire to crack a book spine and enter a new world.

What I loved writing:

I was so happy to feel the desire to write again this month. I reflected on my trip to South Carolina and what it taught me about adult friendships. I titled it “a seat at the table,” because it’s a phrase or idea I’ve pondered before: Who would save me a seat at the table? Do I have any friends like that? Realizing you do is like letting go of a deep, anxiety-exiting sigh.

I also loved writing Biz 417’s cover story for July, “10 for the Next 10,” as well as the recap for their annual event, Ladies Who Launch (yes, there’s a Taylor Swift mention in there).

What I loved watching:

You already know I’ve been impatiently waiting for the new season of The Summer I Turned Pretty. I’ve been debriefing with my sisters daily, watching every TikTok edit, reading every fan theory on X. Nothing could make me hate this show. I’m loving every dramatic, dreamy second of it.

Like the rest of the world, I also finished Love Island USA—she said with a sigh and deep eye roll. I don’t know why I thought something could top, or even come close to topping, season six, but season seven was such a letdown. I’m happy to be released from the shackles of Love Island, for now.

What I loved listening to:

I wouldn’t call myself a huge Conan Gray fan, but I’ve had “Vodka Cranberry” on repeat. I scream it in the car, while getting ready for work, on my way to meet friends. It’s an all-moods kind of song.

On the Love Island note, I listened to both Huda and Amaya Papaya’s episodes on Call Her Daddy. In my opinion, Huda’s episode was bad, and Amaya’s was worse. In Huda’s episode, I at least learned about her and why she acts the way she does. I left Amaya’s episode knowing nothing at all.

However, I loved Avery Wood’s episode on her podcast CHEERS! with Avery Woods titled “thirty, flirty and thiving.” So many little gems in there that I want to carry with me into this next season of life.

Small joys:

• Painting the walls in my house

• Gluten-free banana chocolate chip muffins

• Candle lamps

• Espresso martinis

• Antique stores

• Surprise packages on my doorstep

• Learning how to use my new espresso machine

That’s everything for July! I hope August brings healing, cozy vibes and maybe a new purse (it’s my birthday month, after all).

Send me your July faves: podcast episodes, beauty recs, articles, movies, TED Talks—whatever inspired you.

Until then, I’ll be writing letters in the margins. 💌

(Follow my Instagram for more!)

Having people who make life feel less lonely can make all the difference in the world.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I went on a road trip with six of our friends—three other couples. We drove 17 hours to Charleston, South Carolina, and spent four days eating incredible food, belly-laughing over inside jokes and making the kind of memories that feel stitched into your bones.

Every night, my husband and I would regroup, decompress and land on the same thought: How lucky are we?

Because friendship isn’t always easy.
And adult friendship, especially, is even harder to hold onto.

On the final day of the trip, we all woke up and slowly made our way to our Airbnb kitchen, which smelled of bacon and bagels. My friends had brought me coffee from a nearby cafe (my love language). We drove in the rain to nearby gardens and wandered. We were at the point in the trip where we were brainstorming where we might travel together next. We were throwing out random places, but I could tell we were all having the same thought: It doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s all of us together. No one said it, but we could all feel each other soaking in these final moments together. The final adventure on a trip we’d certainly tell our kids about one day.

Two of my closest friends are living across the country—two different parts of the country. Still, we talk multiple times a week and make it a point to be there for each other in some of the best and even the toughest moments—and the everyday nothing. It takes planning, effort, weird time zones and a lot of love, but we show up anyway.

It’s no secret your 20s are just weird. Everyone you know is in a different season of life—embracing being single and finding themselves, dating, married, buying houses, traveling, getting more degrees, getting dogs. Having those people who feel like home brings balance and joy in a way not much else can, besides family.

Sometimes you just need a reminder to think about your people—text them, call them, make a plan, soak it in.

There’s a kind of peace in knowing you don’t have to go through this life alone. Somewhere, someone is saving you a seat, laughing at your jokes, listening to you tell the same story again—and loving every minute of it.

The right people make even the ordinary moments feel like the good old days.