BaK ToO SkOoL

This year is the first year in my six years of teaching that I have the same room from the year before; it is also the first year that I will not have any new class preps. I wish I could say that these two facts alone eased the anxiety of a new class, but as a senior English teacher, I feel such an intense pressure to increase my students' reading and writing abilities before they embark on that small journey called life {wherever it takes them: college, military, employment or a place I call WTF-land} that even the familiarity of my room and my lesson plans could not make that pressure go away. I find that nearly all of my thoughts go towards competing with the likes of a social media world that has captured {nearly} all of their hearts while working within the confines of a classroom with very limited technology; however, the beauty of a new school year exists in the hope of a new beginning. The frustrations of last year are shed and, in their place, optimism emerges. Back to school means my greatest dreams for these kids are not yet dashed by their over-interests in less lucrative ambitions, acceptance of apathy or premature beginnings of other sorts. They come on the first day with their new composition notebooks and un-sharpened pencils, and they all sit and write so delicately on the first page in response to my first question. Next week, a backpack will be lost. In a month, someone will have cut my class. In six months, the senior-itis will be suffocating every ounce of work ethic from their very beings. The first day, however, is an escape from all of the will-happens; it is the hope that all the negatives will, this year, fall into the didn't-happen category. And, maybe, just maybe, they will. Maybe they will learn where to place a comma when beginning a sentence with a subordinate clause. Maybe they will find a deep appreciation for Beowulf's alliterative verse. Maybe they will master the eloquence of a perfectly formulated thesis statement. Maybe {and, of course, hopefully} they will become better people. But, maybe, they won't.

The first day of school does leave a small twinge in my heart for a few summer specialties. One, I love sleeping in. A 7:30 AM start to school means I am {hopefully} waking up at 6:00 AM to get to my classroom with time to spare for mailbox-checking and photo-copying {I didn't even know people functioned this early until I started teaching}. Two, I love to start the day with a long run. I don't feel like a normal human being until I've met my daily sweat quota, and getting any type of workout before the school day begins is just an overzealous, unrealistic idea. Three, I am insanely jealous of people who get to "go out" for lunch. I often wish for a small semblance of lunch as a teacher, but by the time the bell rings, I'm lucky to have made it to the refrigerator to grab my sack of food, which generally contains leftovers from the night before {if I'm lucky}.

The first day of school, however, also brings an aura of positive energy. Friendships are reunited. Teams are brought back together. The hallways smell of coffee, new shoes and laughter {if one can get past the stench leaking from the boys' bathroom}. The new school year means new life and, more importantly, new clothes. Of course, I never miss an opportunity to buy a new outfit. This year, in the spirit of saving, I was coveting the striped Merona dress from Target. Nevermind that I already have an almost identical version from Madewell, the Merona dress is knee-length {a must for teaching} and heavier material, which makes it great for every season. More importantly, it has pockets {yes, multiply the cuteness of a dress by 10 when factoring in these gems}, and it cost me a mere $22 with my Carthweel app. Paired with a bow belt and some pretty pumps, this dress helped me usher in the class of 2014 with all smiles. Here, my friends, is to the maybes.

Back to School // Merona dress {local Target but similar here + here + here}, Rachel Roy pumps {1/2 size up}, Target bow belt, Zara pearls, Michael Kors Jet Set watch & Coach large Saffiano tote

Madewell {Take One} // J. Crew cardigan + Cece suede flats, Deux Lux handbag {from TJ Maxx, but similar here} & eBay jewelry

Madewell {Take Two} // J. Crew colorblock cardigan, MIA Limited Edition Elana captoe flats & Michael Kors Jet Set watch

Dog Days of Summer

I. Love. My. Dogs. And, I feel completely justified in saying it with such emphasis because I do not have kids {yet}. That motherly, nurturing gene that exists in women is fulfilled in me by a 17-pound male Puggle who continually poops in our basement and a 75-pound female Boxer-Pit Bull who takes up three-quarters of our king size bed. I spoil them so rotten that my husband may {or may not} have said once or twice in our nearly one year of marriage, "I wish you loved me as much as the dogs." What he can't possibly understand is that I do not love them more, just different.

First of all, my girl Roxy is just that, my girl {although she would probably choose my husband if given the choice because I am convinced that she has a crush on him}. She has traveled with me through three states, four houses and five jobs. In a time in my life when I packed up everything I had ever known and moved 1,500 miles away from Colorado to Portland, Oregon, she was sitting in the passenger seat next to me. Then, again, when I packed up everything from Portland to move 3,000 miles to Louisville, Kentucky, she was in the back seat. She was a very stable part of a very unstable time in my life. Frank, on the other hand, is my little prince. He prances around the house, following in every single one of my footsteps, and it is not possible for him to sit anywhere without human contact. He does not have the potential to hurt even a fly {although he tries}, and I recently discovered that he viciously attacks all of our mail when the poor delivery man slides it into our door mail slot. His personality is unparalleled, which is what made it so devastating when we came home from church on Sunday and he started yelping every time we went to pick him up. All we kept saying was, "Something is really wrong with him," and yet neither of us wanted to fork over the hundreds of dollars to go to an emergency clinic on a Sunday afternoon.

Time out. Before you go and call us bad pet owners, here's the down low on Roxy's life up to this point. She is approximately five. I rescued her at three-months-old. Two years ago, she got hit by a Land Rover going 40 MPH on a Friday night while visiting my future in-laws. We were forced to rush her to an emergency clinic where she stayed for a week while they performed surgery to reconstruct her pelvis {yes!}. I couldn't afford it, but I had nice parents and a decent credit card. Six months ago, she blew out her knee including a full tear of the ACL. My husband and I were faced with, yet again, a hurt {but relatively healthy} dog and a hefty bill. We just found out last week that she broke off a piece of the knee implant, which will inevitably mean another surgery {thank you, Roxy}. Time in.

So, as any 21st-century pet-owner would do, I Googled. I scoured for every possible reason that my little dog would not want to be picked up. I went from constipation to bulging disk and back to constipation. I resorted to feeding him wet food mixed with canned pumpkin since he refused to drink water and wouldn't go to the bathroom. I snuggled him all night {as any good mom would do} and got him to the vet first thing in the morning {after crappy sleep and a 6:30 AM run that had me in tears for fear that I'd be taking my dog to his death bed in a few hours}. My hope was restored when I grabbed his leash for the outing and he started running around me in circles like the Frank-of-old; the second miracle happened when he finally pooped on our way into the vet after going dormant for over 24 hours. Hallelujah. All was right with the world. His back is still bothering him, but the vet said it's nothing that a few doggie pain killers and muscle relaxers {mixed lovingly with canned pumpkin} can't fix. Compared to Roxy, it was a surprisingly cheap day. I don't know how much I would have spent to make his pain go away, but I can tell you one thing: the number in my head was probably {much} higher than the number in my husband's head. Thankfully, that battle was saved for another day.

Roxy in Her Prime {pre-surgeries}

My Traveling Co-Pilot

Roxy Post-Pelvis Surgery

My Little Prince

Frank's Water Bowl

Best Friends

She a Gold Digger

Once upon a time {in a land far, far away}, I hated gold jewelry. It distinctly reminded me of something that my grandmother {or any grandmother} would wear, and I couldn't help but stare at it in disgust. When I hit my mid-twenties, I started singing a {much different} tune. Now, if it's gold, I'm probably wearing it {or at least wishing that I was wearing it}. Something about gold pieces just screams sexy-chic, and they have the ability to make any outfit go from drab to fab. Gold. Bam. Insta-droolworthiness. I have five staple gold goodies that I rotate {rather religiously} through my wardrobe:

1. Gemvara Twine Wedding Band :: I am absolutely in love with my vintage, 100-year-old solitaire diamond engagement ring. When I started shopping for my wedding band, I knew that I wanted something simple that would take nothing away from the diamond's sheer wow-ness. Since the setting was platinum, I also knew that I wanted something gold. Yes, some people naysayed my optimism in mixing metals, but I could not be happier with the selection. The simplicity of the gold twine band next to the power of my stunning solitaire {truly} never gets old.

Gold + Navy + Nude // Francesca's striped dress {similar here}, J. Crew schoolboy blazer, Jessica Simpson Calie pumps, Target belt, Solitaire + Gemvara twine wedding band, Inga Creations earrings, Michael Kors Hamilton tote & Jet Set watch

Michael Kors Jet Set watch + Gemvara twine wedding band

2. Michael Kors Jet Set Watch :: This watch is the staple piece of my jewelry collection. You are hard-pressed to find me wearing anything else. My favorite part about it is, once again, its sheer simplicity. There are no numbers. There are no diamonds. It is just a perfect shade and finish of gold that compliments every possible outfit combination.

Monochrome Blue + Gold // BDG colorblock Chambray {similar here and here}, J. Crew Tippi sweater + Cece flats, Gap velvet skinny jeans & Michael Kors Jet Set watch

3. Inga Creations Tusk Necklace :: Aspen-designer Emily Gustafson loves gold just as much as I do, which means that I keep her jewelry line on heavy repeat. My newest favorite piece is an antler strung on a gold chain wrapped perfectly in gold wire {totally Colorado, right?}. Enter code "PUPSANDPUMPS" at checkout, and she'll treat you to 20% off your order {woohoo!}.

My recent haul from Inga Creations

Dressed Up.

{or} Dressed Down.

4. MIA Limited Edition Elana Flats :: I am semi-embarrassed to admit that I had to trade in my Tory Burch Reva flats a few months ago. The elastic backs were digging into my heels so badly that, by the end of the day, I was sporting them as clogs. Plus, I over-pronate ridiculously far {running lingo for "my ankles roll in"}, and anything with an elastic back just doesn't bode in my favor. I started a mad hunt for a pair of black flats with gold detail, and I found these gems. Love them. Plus, super comfortable {in 1/2 size up}.

Gap corduroy skinny jeans, J. Crew Factory herringbone tank, Zara pearl necklace, MIA Limited Edition Elana Flats, Michael Kors Hamilton tote & Jet Set watch

5. Madewell Skimmer Flats {similar here} :: Finally, my Dorothy shoes. While clicking these suckers together won't get me home after a long night out, the gold glitter stays perfectly in tact, and they are sure to garner plenty of compliments {trust}.

Jason Aldean Concert // Blank NYC coated denim + Tory Burch Amanda logo clutch + Madewell skimmer flats {similar here}

Summer Wedding Secrets

I am not a sappy wedding fan {by any means}. In fact, I am what you might call an anti-traditional wedding-ist. I appreciate tradition, but I have a hard time accepting tradition for tradition's sake; however, I am always touched by how people decide to vow themselves to each other before God - so much so that I have truly come to appreciate nuptials on a much deeper level than ever before. One, it reminds me of the commitment I have made to my own husband {which is always worth being reminded}. Two, I enjoy seeing couple's creativity lived out in a very finite period of time. Three, I love not only dressing for the occasion {obviously}, but I also love seeing how everyone else dresses for the occasion. Weddings are such a unique blend of fashion statements that I can't help but get lost evaluating ensembles {in the midst of making a fool of myself on the dance floor and eating entirely way too much wedding cake}.

Jordan and I had two weddings slated for this summer. The first was an outdoor event in a beautiful park. The second was in a gorgeous downtown church. Surprisingly, I have found that any summer wedding requires layers. Outdoor weddings always bring the possibility of rain, and indoor weddings in the southern state of Kentucky usually entail an {overly} abundant amount of air conditioning. My Forever 21 cotton blazer worked perfectly on both occasions.

I feel blessed to have shared in a special moment with two very dear sets of friends. More importantly, I witnessed the greatest father-daughter dance of all time {"Butterfly Kisses" gets dominated at the 1:40-mark}, and Jordan and I made insta-wedding friends who owned the photo booth with us like it had never been owned before {props rule!}.

Outdoor Wedding Wedges // INC International Concepts platform espadrilles {sold out but loving these}

Outdoor Wedding Threads // Kate Spade Robbie pencil skirt, Mossimo collared blouse {local Target but loving this}, Forever 21 blazer {similar here}, & Michael Kors Hamilton Bag + Jet Set Watch

Indoor Wedding Threads // Maison Jules dress {local Macy's but loving this}, Forever 21 blazer {similar here}, Tory Burch aviator sunglasses, Rebecca Minkoff Mini Mac, Michael Kors Jet Set watch & Inga Creations pearl dangle earrings

Indoor Wedding Heels // Sole Society Sheila pumps {limited quantities here but also loving these}

Golden Details

Photo Booth Fun

Proud to be an American

Traveling abroad has sealed within me a deep appreciation for my country. With every bite of imitation American cuisine and every un-air conditioned store I walk into, I yearn for the good ol' U-S-of-A. Don't get me wrong, Europe is beautiful {stunning, really!}, and I have uttered on more than one occasion, "Wow, I could live here!" The quaint architecture, the beautiful town squares and the epic vineyard-views are enough to make any girl squeal with delight. Plus, for a runner like me, I am overcome with joy to find miles upon miles of bike paths at every city we visit. Yes, in fact, I could live here.

A couple days ago, however, I felt such an allegiance to my country, I could not imagine living anywhere else. On our bus trip from Germany to Paris, we stopped in Luxembourg to visit the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial. It started as a plot of land rented by US General Patton before "The Battle of the Bulge" during WWII. It became home to thirteen-thousand soldiers who lost their lives in the war. Many of those bodies were shipped back to the United States, but the space still houses 5,000 heroes in a sea of white marble crosses. The names of the soldiers are engraved on the backs of the crosses, facing their home country, and General Patton's grave sits at the front of the memorial, facing his troops. I found myself crying for a throng of people whom I had never known, and yet it was like we were all related. We shared the same blood: American. This doesn't seem to hold the same value as it did for those who lived through such a tragedy, and I don't know if it ever will, but I do know that I was sobered by the experience. I wished I could bottle the emotion and share it with my national comrades who {naturally} want to ascribe to Republican or Democrat, pro-life or pro-choice, black or white. These men died for one label, and we are remiss to ignore such a powerful common denominator. Unfortunately, life happens and we are forced {too often} to make a choice that divides our oneness.

When we arrived in Paris, I was reminded of a powerful tool that serves to unite all of us by our common denominator: sports. Through the work of {what could only be} Divine intervention, we were privy to the finish of the 100th riding of the Tour de France. Flags littered the air and chants resonated on every street corner. My husband quickly found a group of Americans, and for a small moment in time, we were home. U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

Entering the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial

White Marble Crosses

Group of Americans camped out at the Tour de France

100th riding of the Tour de France {entering the Arc de Triomphe}

Some old red, white & blue // Citizens of Humanity Avedon velvet pants, Gap striped tee, Vans satin boat shoes, Inga Creations leather wrap bracelet & Michael Kors Hamilton Bag + Jet Set Watch

Excuse Me, You're in My Seat

On a river cruise, meals are very regimented, so the dining hall is always full. As human beings, it is our natural inclination to form cliques, and these dining experiences become a breeding ground for this grouping. Jordan and I immediately made friends with three other couples a few hours into our trip {the only three couples to find our passport mishap most amusing}, and these friends naturally became or dinner mates {and so much more, of course}. Last night was the captain's farewell dinner {ironically, it is not actually the last night, but rather the second to last night} and the tagged "mama bear" of our group went downstairs to grab our table. Surprise! Another group had taken our seats. So, naturally {but not without complaint, seeing as how we had sat there for every meal for the last week} her and her husband went and got the opposing table across the room with sufficient seating for our posse. The group who had spent the entire trip sitting at our now "new" table did not like this one bit. They made numerous complaints about how we had taken their spot, but "mama bear" was not moving, so there was no chance of table surrender. When the rest of our group finally arrived, we found our new location {plus a lot of drama}. We looked confusingly on our stolen table and saw the couples high-fiving each other. High-fiving? I'm sorry, did we do something wrong? Okay, so we're the loud group - the ones who talk when they shouldn't be, the ones who take just a little longer to linger on "just one more photo" while the guide {and the group} waits impatiently, the ones who laugh loud during meals and get a lot of stares. But, we're not selfish; we're the first to buy extra water bottles for the group, take a picture for you with your significant other, or donate our earphones if you forget yours for the tour. For whatever reason, these people just wanted our table, and for whatever reason, they had made it personal.

It took everything within me {within each of us, really} to not say anything. As a high school teacher, I thought of the advice I would give my students: just let it go, it's not worth it, be the bigger person. But, at that moment {and only that moment, of course}, I wanted to kick that little voice square in the face and be the small person. Do we ever really leave high school? Fortunately, my foot didn't have to do anything and the scenery did the face-kicking for us as our side of the ship drove by beautiful vineyards and gorgeous small towns and our old side passed shrubs and weeds with no picturesque value {giggle}. More importantly, we had another dinner amongst great company, and we didn't change a darn thing {except for our seats, of course}.

View from Marksburg Castle on the Rhine River

View from our "new" dinner table

Sharing seats {for the photo}

Captain's Farewell Dinner // Modcloth "Shoreline Soiree" dress, J. Crew Cece flats & Michael Kors jet set watch

Here's to History.

We have spent the last few days moving throughout Germany - Nuremberg to Wurzberg to Rothenberg -  and I have one word to describe the country: Cool {really cool}. It is a place filled with a remarkable history, and I am in awe of the locals' dedication to that history. They are obviously home to a catastrophic international event, yet it is not a source of shame for the current population.  From what I understand, it took awhile to get to this point. The peoples' initial response to Hitler's devastation was embarrassment; they sought to destroy everything that remained of the Nazi party and concentration camps because they did not want to explain the horror to future generations. It wasn't until many years later that they realized the disservice they were doing to their country; they weren't learning from the mistake because they were being ignorant to its existence. If anything, they were contributing to the initial devastation because they thought they could will it away with the naivete that it would never happen again. Finally {light bulb!}, they poured their energies in the opposite direction: learning as much as they could about the experience so it could never {and would never} happen again.  As I stood in the middle of the Nazi Rally Grounds a couple days ago, I really began to wonder about my "historic" human errors: Was I sweeping them under the rug, acting like they've never happened? Or, was I owning them {in all their ugliness} as a means of preventing them from ever happening again? Germany's restoration came through answering yes to the latter, and my introduction to Germany is challenging me to do the same.

Entrance to Nazi Rally Grounds {aerial view}

Memorial at Nazi Rally Grounds for Concentration Camp Victims

Rothenberg, Germany

Kensie pleated corduroy shorts {similar color here & similar style here}, Gap polka dot chambray, Zen Threads American Apparel bike tee, Nike lunar glide +4: Livestrong edition, Coach Madison Lindsay crossbody {sold out color, but available style here} & Tory Burch aviator sunglasses

A pup working in a shop in Bamberg, Germany