Over the last few months, Graham and I have been quietly looking at homes on the market in Charlottesville. For the first time in our marriage, we . . .
I dare someone to talk with their besties as much as I do with mine. Every day, we connect, leaving Voxer messages that are 6, 8, 13 minutes long. . . .
Y'all a professional photographer I am not. I don't shoot in manual. I don't have the best lens. I make a ton of amateur mistakes. But I've worked . . .
Graham came home one night a few weeks ago and I was done. "I'm going out," I said. "Where?" he asked. "Anywhere but here," I responded. Y'all. There . . .
You know February 14th is approaching when the Target dollar section transforms from New Year's confetti to heart overload. Personally, I think . . .
Just after Christmas, my middle schooler went to visit family for a few days in North Carolina and I decided it was time to do the unthinkable, enter . . .
You guys, sometimes I think half this blog is dedicated to the mixed bevs and cocktails Graham and I are concocting on any given weekend. I promise I . . .
I can't quite remember when I started making my pomegranate sangria, but it has been my Thanksgiving contribution for at least the last 8 years (I . . .
Y'all, we sorta, kinda, really on accident rented our house with Airbnb three times this month. It all happened so fast. Earlier this year, I blocked . . .
I took my pre-teen back-to-school shopping and lived to tell the tale. Okay, that's a bit dramatic. But, really. Maddox starts middle school next . . .