stay humble

When it comes to airline travel, Courtney and I are both a little lot bit ridiculous. We run through the airport more often than we walk. We're no strangers to having our names last called over the intercom. And we're notoriously the final passengers to board the plane.
 
(And to the rest of our family: I can feel ye cautious travelers cringing right now.)
 
 
I cannot count the number of times we've been driving to the airport in Virginia, Denver, Houston or Atlanta and one of us has looked at the other and said: "Are we going to miss our flight?"
And then the other of us looked at the clock and laughed, saying: "No! We're not going to miss our flight."
{meanwhile thinking: we might miss our flight}
We are overconfident to a fault. We operate as if we are above the law in the one place on earth that absolutely no one operates above the law. The plane would not leave without us!
 
One time, we were at security a few minutes ahead of schedule and there were two lines. Courtney had to go in the longer line, but I had the option of either one. So, I obviously chose the longer line so we could stay together longer. I had eight extra minutes. Puhlenty of time!
 
 
Fast forward 22 minutes and what was I doing? That's right. Giving Courtney the quickest hug in America and sprinting to my gate, sundress, sandals and all.
 
 
Last week, though, I received a text from Court that rocked my world. It went a little something like this:
And I say it again. What!

 
When I called her I needed to know every detail: What exactly happened? So the airplane actually just took off without you? Like it left? Even though you weren't on it? It just left?
 
 
Turns out, even we, with our false sense of security when it comes to ETDs, can be left behind. And let us be your cautionary tale: stay humble everybody. Ain't nobody operating above the law - on the plane or off it.
 
 
Happy Friday :)

mooore adventuring


I'm trying to think about how to tell you what I'm about to tell you in a clever way. And the amount of times that I have shared this news is making me dig deep into the realms of my brain to get creative.

So here we go.

In high school, I went through this phase where I thought it was really funny to tell cow jokes. I don't know why I thought it was funny. But I swear I snagged my high school boyfriend with them. He took me to the moo-vies, even.

(Yes. They were that bad. Like Colonel Moo-stard and moo-chas gracias caliber. All the time.)

So today, brought to you by Whitney Circa 2004, I ask you what a cow says when he finds out his house sold?

That's right. We're moo-ving.

Moving! 

Which means, yes, so far in 2013, we have a post about moving as a quarterly feature. January and April. But this is it. For real, for real, for real.  This is the last time we're moving for a long time.


When we moved in to our current place, we knew it was a possibility that the house might sell, but the market wasn't that good and the rent was low and the location was amazing and our luck certainly had to be up after living with rats. 

Right?

But, alas, someone has decided they want our abode as their abode and they don't want to rent it anymore. I thought about lobbying for these newlyweds to let Mel and me continue to live in two of the four bedrooms this house offers, but it didn't exactly scream logical.

So, in just three weeks time, we'll be on the move again. You might think I'd be worried that I have absolutely no idea where I'm going. But I'm oddly relaxed...


In the meantime, I've made a real short Greenwood Ave. bucket list, which includes: dinner at Panita Thai and to score an invitation to a porch party at our neighbors' house. They live on the corner of Highland and Greenwood in this hugely huge house with two wraparound porches and they're always having so much fun out there. 

Cross your fingers for good weather this weekend so I can deliver them some baked goods with a cow joke and a smile and really set the mooood right.

{I won't do that. Cookies. No cows. Promise}


say it out loud

Yesterday, I got myself in just a teensy bit of trouble with some people I love, because, apparently, I told very few people about planning to go to Africa. I'd like to say this is atypical for me, but I'd be lying. I have a tendency to sit on my plans: working out every single detail, every last step, before sharing them. Just to ensure they're really going to happen. And then BAM: the big reveal.

image via

Back up to a few months ago, when my friend, Maggie, was giving me advice on a situation. I reaaaallly wanted something to come to fruition and she said: If you really want it to happen, say it out loud.

At the time, I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by it. Why did that make a difference? Was this some sort of Thoughts from the Universe advice?

But then, yesterday, it clicked for me. Saying it out loud is letting go of just a bit of control and admitting that you hope something will happen. You really want it to. But you're not quite sure yet if it will. Saying it out loud is being vulnerable. It's letting people in to your space before everything is aligned - before all of your ducks are in a row.
image via

It's saying: I trust you enough to tell you I'd like for this to happen, but if I can't work it out, I know you won't hold it against me.  And it's being confident enough to know that even if it doesn't work out, the people you love will keep on loving you. Not matter what continent you're on.
And from where I'm sitting, having the people I love by my side sounds a whole lot better than having all my ducks in a row, any day of the week.

image via

Sidenote: Thank you so much for everyone who has donated to my trip! I am so grateful and excited. It's really happening, now! :)

{africa bound}

Years ago, when Courtney ran her first marathon, I told her, "I have no desire to run a marathon, ever. I just don't know why you'd do that?" {coming from the cross country runner}

Fast forward five years, and there we were, running the Chicago Marathon.

When Courtney and Ashley went to Africa a few years ago, I had the same reaction. "Why would you everrr...?"

But then, something happened. Something shifted in my heart and I couldn't stop thinking about going to Africa. I wrote it in my journal every day. I dabbled on websites: how much would it cost? how long would I have to stay there?

I couldn't shake the idea that I wanted to go - needed to go.

This winter, I started reading Love Does by Bob Goff. Throughout the book, he talks about his foundation, Restore International. With every story he told, the idea got louder and louder in my head, quickly turning from a quiet hum to a steady drum beat: I want to be part of this.

At the end of the book, Bob leaves his number. For no certain reason, I decided to give him a call: why not? I rambled for what must have been the longest voicemail he's ever received, going on about how much I loved the book, how amazing what he's doing is, does he ever need help with anything? Is he coming to Atlanta anytime soon? Does he want to get coffee?

Within a few hours, he called me back and, before I knew it, he'd suggested I come to Africa with him. In the true spirit of Love Does, I just said yes before I even processed the question.

So, this fall, I'm heading to Uganda with Restore International to get involved with the movement to combat local injustice. I'll get to help build classrooms in a new school that's under construction, will visit the existing school to meet the kids enrolled (the part I'm most excited about!) and meet with local leaders. I'm so excited :)

Listen below to hear him talk with one of the students.

I've been having a hard time figuring out exactly how to raise support. I just asked my friends and family to help me build the well less than a year ago.  They say it takes a village and sometimes I feel like when they say that, they're talking about me. 

I know it's asking a lot, but if you feel compelled to support me in my trip, I would greatly appreciate it if you donated to the cause. And, if you're able to donate $20, I will send you a bracelet in the mail! :)

When I was younger, I was incredibly homesick and hated to be away from my family. On one particularly long trip, my mom and best friend, Katie, took thick, colored rubber bands and wrote notes to me on them. I never took them off, and when I was sad at night I would read them and feel comforted. They wrapped me in love and made me feel less lonely. They became so much more than something around my wrist - they stood for something bigger. 

When I go to Africa, I am bound to feel homesick (it's in the fabric of my being). I hope that when I look at my wrist and see the bracelets, I will feel comforted and supported. I will feel loved and reminded that I wouldn't have made it that far without all of you. I will be reminded that it's OK to admit you need support from one village to get you to the next one.

Thank YOU so much!

image