The blog
Writings on food, faith, creativity, and family, all with the goal of helping you nourish your soul.
Welcome to my little home on the Internet! If you were in my actual house, I’d offer you a drink and start raiding the pantry for snacks so we dive into the deep stuff (I’m not great at small talk). My internet home isn’t much different–there’s food to savor and words to mull over about everything from faith to creativity to family.
explore by category:
We Keep Running Out of Snacks [and a recipe for Whole Wheat Pumpkin Scones with Bourbon Glaze]
A few days ago, one of my kids walked in from the garage holding a nearly empty, Costco-sized bag of tortilla chips. He stuffed a few crumbs into his mouth when I realized, “Wait, isn’t that the bag that’s been sitting in the garage all night?”
So yeah, my kid is eating stale chips from the garage. But also, why were the chips in the garage?
A Story About Scones [and a recipe for Chocolate Peppermint Scones]
It’s 11am on Friday morning, and our mastermind group has already exchanged several Voxer messages. Most days, Sonya, the East Coaster, starts us off with a “Good morning, how is everyone?” message, often peppered with commentary about the car in front of her or how people can’t park. Her day is in full swing, and when I see the notification on my phone that I have a message, I can hardly wait to hear what’s going to be said. Also, I’ve never found someone’s verbal road rage so endearing.
I’m in the Central Time Zone, so sometimes I’m next up, although Ashlee and Katie, the West Coasters, are more disciplined than me about waking up early. They often beat me to replying, but I catch up eventually. I have serious FOMO if I miss a message. For the rest of the day, we leave each other Voxes about everything from book marketing to health updates to marriage and kids to what we ate for breakfast. These messages are among the most meandering, delightful, sometimes hard but always grace-filled, conversations I’ve had in my life.
Blueberry, Orange + Oatmeal Scones
When I was a kid, my mom used to take my brother and me to a farm near my grandmother’s house to go blueberry picking. Being the wise woman that she was, we went first thing in the morning so we could avoid the hot sun – but the two hour drive meant getting dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn to start our adventure.