pesto. the besto! (three-ingredient recipe)

You guys. I promise I will stop blogging about my time at home soon. But not yet. There is just so much to share!

My uncle and aunt, Mikey and Betsy, have this awesome garden in their backyard. It produces beautiful, huge vegetables that make my mouth water just thinking about them. Tomatoes with crazy flavor - neither too tough, nor too soft. The kind you want to bite like an apple. 

And there's basil. So. Much. Basil.

I can still smell it.

Partially because they let me fill a grocery sack up with it, which I put in my suitcase. Total basil party in my bag. I opened it after the flight and let the herby goodness wash over me. 

Because it goes bad faster than spinach (which is really, really fast), I had to do something ASAP. This party of one can only eat so much basil. 

And so, I made pesto!

Because I didn't know how real people make pesto and because I only had so many things in my pantry, I made up my own recipe. And it worked! So, without further ado, healthy pesto, for you...

Ingredients:

3 T Extra Virgin Olive Oil
4 C. Basil
Salt and Pepper to taste

Yields about two servings of pesto

To make:

Put basil and olive oil in Food Processor
Add salt and pepper to taste
Blend until creamy

Enjoy. Freeze. Laugh because you're so happy you'll have basil all winter (assuming you made more than two servings...).

Happy eats!

on waiting.

Last week when I was home, it was just my parents and me Wednesday through Friday. And being there reminded me of when I first graduated college and got a job in Indy. I lived at home to save money (medium successful...) and it was just the three of us.

Together, we moved out our my childhood home into our new one. We broke it in together, learned the new neighborhood, developed new-house routines. 

It was fun - really fun. It was the first time I'd lived at home as a grown up. It had never been OK for us to have a glass of wine together. I'd never had job stuff to talk to them about instead of school stuff. It had never been just me and them - it had almost always been the seven of us, or at least always five of us. Never just three. 

I look back on it as a really sweet time I had with them and I'm so grateful for it. It changed my relationships with them and helped us see one another in a new light. 

But you know what? While I was living there, I was so stressed. I couldn't relax because I felt like I should have been living in my own apartment. Failure to launch. That's how I felt every day. Silly for living with my parents, when everyone else had houses in Broadripple and apartments in Indy. I was in the suburbs replacing high school framed pictures in my bedroom with college ones, while everyone else was hanging cool prints in their freshly painted kitchens. 

Comparing, comparing. I was so stressed.

I thought of that when I was up early Wednesday morning. I was brushing my teeth, so excited to go get some of my mom's coffee before work. And all of those feelings came rushing back. I was in my old routine and it felt like barely anything had changed - like I'd stepped back in time just for a moment. 

And I looked in the mirror and told myself what I wished I'd known then: calm down, Whitney. You'll get there. You aren't stuck - it's just not your time yet. Be grateful for the right now. Be grateful for what you're learning; what you're living. The next step will be taken, but right now is so important. And it's so sweet. Don't rush it. Take a deep breath and enjoy it. 

I write this as I sit in my house in Atlanta. Melissa is in the other room and I'm on the couch, blogging away. Our place is clean. It has cute decorations. It has wood floors and things I didn't even imagine having back then. 

Because the future is so often sweeter than we could have imagined. 

But we have to wait. We have to embrace the now in order to get to the future. So today, I'm not rushing. I'm not stressing. I'm enjoying it, carrying my head high, my heart filled to the brim with joy. Because the future is exciting, but the right now is so worth living. Every minute of it. 

amber waves of grain

I'll be the first to admit that one of the reasons I moved south was the weather. We Bibers grew up in the Midwest, but there's no doubt we have southern blood somewhere in our lineage. We have no interest in winter, no matter how you slice it. 

But as much as I love (love) this Georgia weather, every fall, Indiana calls me back. I ache for the crisp weather. The blue skies contrasted against the green grass and yellow corn. The brightly colored sunsets that make your heart melt. The smell of waking up in my at-home bedroom, dewy mornings pouring in my wide-open window. My mom's uber-strong coffee, my dad's homemade breakfasts. 

And although this year's trip came earlier than my typical go, Indiana was ready for me. Unseasonably fallish, it was. It was cool and crisp and sunny and filled me up to the brim with Hoosier love. 

There was dinner with friends at Napolese. 

There was a family party, where I got to meet my cousin Chris' baby. As well as my cousin Becca's baby. Yes. Two babies. Two! (Yes, I was in heaven. No, I didn't care that I got spit up on three times. Oh, and yes, I debated stealing them but didn't think I could get through TSA.)

There was apple picking with my parents and Sam.

  

There was sushi at Kona with my parents.

There were walks and sunsets and iced coffees and good conversations and rest. Oh! Lots of rest. There was happiness and joy. 

And there was corn. Lots of corn.

And it was wonderful.

Happy Monday!

{yes}

My friend Jordan and I used to joke that when she said maybe, she meant no. And when I heard that maybe, I heard yes. I just can't help myself! I believe so deeply in the power of yes.

To say yes is a gift. It's to take on an adventure. It can be a risk - a life change - a small task. It can be so little or so much and you often don't know which until you're already into the yes. It's a glass of wine   - maybe - or it's hours of good conversation and a friendship growing deeper over an accidental bottle.

But I am only just recently learning the power of no. To know you need the time to yourself, the space, the opt out. 

To say yes is exciting on the surface, but to say no - to know your own needs on that level - is exciting in its own right. It's maturity and self respect. It's knowing when you need sleep instead of that glass of wine. Or time to reflect instead of divulge in conversation. 

Call it a testament to my parents' undying support, as I think my incessant yessing begins with a belief that I can do it all. My parents told me I could, so I can, right? Maybe. But just because you can do everything doesn't mean you should. To complete everything - carry the juggling balls over the finish line - is good. But to do fewer things, very well, can be so much more fulfilling. To go deeper into one task, master the skill is an entirely different level of satisfaction. 

And I'm still learning it. Learning to cut back and play to my strengths. 

Oh my gosh I am not a DIYer. And that's OK. No one needs me to DIY for them. But you know what I can do? Organize your closet. So when you're done crafting and your scissors and glue and paint are everywhere, I'm there. 

I'm learning it evermore as I get ready to go to Africa. I've been blown away by the support I've received. It has been incredible to  see the way people have said yes to me - have offered me the skills, gifts and support they have. I'm in awe. 

The way my dad gave to me financially last night, so generously. 

The way so many of you have supported me financially, also so generously.

And in prayers. 

How friends have called me asking what they can buy for the trip. Sunscreen? Bug spray? A sleeping bag? 

The way my company gave me product to take over. 

The way people have asked me the right questions, cared about what I will be doing, given me their time, love and concern for my travel. 

Shared my page. 

Shared my passion.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. For giving me what you can. For giving me the gifts you have and for saying yes to my adventure. 

I just love you all.