Bad to the {herring}Bone

Louisville in August usually means humidity, heat and more humidity. Shockingly, the temperatures have been in the 60s and 70s for the last week. This has a plethora of advantages in my life. Most importantly, I was not stuck doing my daily runs on a treadmill. As a teacher, I have been soaking up my last moments of freedom until kids return to my classroom, and my "morning" run - most might call this an afternoon run since I generally sleep until about 9:30, get on my computer for an hour and stroll out the door around 11:00 - is an integral part of that freedom. Summers in the south {if one wants to classify Louisville, KY as south} don't allow for much outdoor activity between the hours of 9:00 AM and 10:00 PM {at least not for this Colorado girl who is used to a dry mountainous heat that puts the stickiness of the east coast to shame}. August involves me rummaging through my shorts, tank tops and near-nothing dresses to find {yet another} combination. Meanwhile, my purse houses a surplus of layers to combat even the most intense air conditioning. This last week, however, I have actually been able to layer {before leaving the house} and be comfortable outside; thus, eating outside became a staple, and my husband sought to avidly play golf every evening. Our worlds collided on Friday night when he got to play 18 with his buddies, and I drove with one of his buddy's girlfriends to the clubhouse to meet them for dinner. It was one of those divine summer moments that are epitomized by delicious nachos, an epic sunset and {duh!} herringbone prints.

J. Crew Factory herringbone tank + Else mint skinny jeans + Tory Burch aviator sunglasses

Michael Kors Hamilton tote

Francesca's statement necklace {similar colors here}

INC International Concepts wedges {similar style here}

The view of the 18th hole from the back deck of the clubhouse

I Believe in Miracles.

My sister- and brother-in-law are {for lack of a better term} baby-making champions. Just a few years ago, they told us they were pregnant with their first little one, and now, almost three years later, they are the mother and father to three beautiful girls. Maebyn Noelle celebrated her 1st Birthday on August 11th, 2013. On August 12th, my sister-in-law walked into the hospital to give birth {yet again} to identical twins. While I have come to appreciate any birth as miraculous, it is the birth of these two little twins that has made me relish the power of prayer and the possibility of miracles.

About five months into MaKenzie's second pregnancy, she and Ross found out that the twins were suffering from TTTS, twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. Because the girls were identical and sharing the same placenta, one of the twins was stealing nutrients from her sister. The risks were high for both babies, and the prognosis was far from ideal. The percentage of twins who both survived the disease was very small, and those who did usually arrived very prematurely.

So, they prayed.

They prayed for peace. They prayed for safety. They prayed for Truette Lynn and Larkyn Ellen to make it to 33 weeks without any complications. And, while they prayed, a miracle happened. The babies' amniotic fluid levels evened out. The TTTS became non-threatening, and at 37 weeks, these two beauties were introduced into a world that at one point seemed so far away {almost too far}. Truette was a mere 45 grams from not having to go to the NICU, but both girls were healthy, strong and alive.

Ross and MaKenzine's faith in the face of improbable odds touched my heart in such a way that I only hope I exude the same conviction in even the most mundane tasks of my daily walk of life. As a newlywed, I find such inspiration in witnessing couples go through pregnancy and parenting successfully, and I would be remiss to ever forget their strength in these moments. I would also be remiss to ever forget God's goodness. I look forward to a life of more miracles as the Aunt to such an amazing group of little girls.

Read more about TTTS here. Read more about Ross & MaKenzie's story here & here.

Maebyn's 1st Birthday Threads

Yum & Fun

Larkyn Ellen & Truette Lyn: Born August 12, 2013

Uncle Jordan & Aunt Steph

Leaving the Hospital {woohoo!}

Cobalt Crush

If you walked into my closet-of-old, you would have been confronted with four colors: black, white, gray and denim. Every shirt-in-awhile, you would have stumbled upon something yellow or red, but its presence would have felt entirely out of place. As a recent college graduate, my budget was limited, and I couldn't bare to spend my hard-earned teacher dollars {which didn't come easy} on something that {I thought} could only be worn once. I'm also nearly positive that I rotated five outfits through every five workdays for my first year as a working professional {classy}. My new-found appreciation for color-blocking, pattern-playing and monochrome-matching has led to a deep appreciation for anything not of the black-and-white family.

My husband and I enjoy playing random psyche games like "Would you rather...?" and "If you could only...?" to establish unrealistic parameters for our lives. Questions include: Would you rather be forced to eat your own toenails or have your eyebrows shaved off? If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what song would it be? Obviously {or hopefully}, we would never be forced to make these decisions, but the answers are so comically amusing - and most times, require such intense thought - that we get lost for hours in a sea of inquiry. I can recall one question, however, that required only a split second of decision: If you could only wear one color for the rest of your life, what color would it be?

Blue. Boom. Done.

From cerulean to navy, I haven't met a blue I didn't like {which very much bodes in my favor as a Kentucky resident}, and I'm currently crushing hard on cobalt. There is a certain radiance and richness to it that screams neon without the eye-piercing dazzle {although I also love me a good neon every now and again}. This bright blue is my new black.

Cobalt Bottoms // Gap 1969 always skinny jeans + butterfly blouse {similar style here and color here}, J. Crew Cece flats {similar color here} & Michael Kors Jet Set watch

Cobalt Top // Target Xhilaration tank, Joe's black skinny jeans, Madewell skimmer flats {print also available here}, Coach handbag {same color here}, Tory Burch aviator sunglasses, Michael Kors Jet Set watch & Cara NY jewelry

Cobalt Details // J. Crew yellow lace dress {similar here} + Cece flats {similar color here}, Coach Madison Lindsay crossbody {similar color here} + sunglasses {similar style here}, Michael Kors Bradshaw watch & cobalt flower earrings

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

I'm a Sucker {for Chambray}.

I still remember my fourth grade yearbook picture. My hair was curled in tight tendrils {a product of the foam rollers my mom had used to cover my head the night before}. My tongue stuck out from a gaping hole on the side of my mouth where I had recently lost a tooth. More importantly, I was wearing a denim button-down tee with a bolo tie {yes, you read that correctly} strategically placed beneath my shirt collar. Little did I know that 20-some-odd years later my elementary look would be making a comeback. I spent hours scavenging for a replica of the photo {if not only to just prove my previous claim}, but when you've moved as many times as I have in the last ten years, these small things are no longer easily accessible {or, more likely, they no longer physically exist}. Fortunately for you, I was able to locate some oh-so-stylish, replica snapshots of the look.

Savage Bolo Tie

Susan Caplan Exclusive for ASOS Vintage 70s Bolo Bull Tie

I would probably swap the bolo for something a little {or a lot} more feminine {i.e. pearls}, but there is something about the denim shirt that makes my heart swoon {maybe because it pairs so perfectly with colored and printed bottoms}. I wear chambray {on average} 2-3 times a week, and I have absolutely no shame in admitting this stat. I have proudly organized an entire section of my closet in devotion to my growing chambray habit, and I have heard on more than one occasion from my husband, "I'm embarrassed to say this, but sometimes, I wish I could wear your clothes." Nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. The number of chambray button-downs and popovers grows exponentially in our household, so as of late, I had been jonesing for something a little different {enter the chambray dress}. While in London, I found exactly what I had in mind at a trendy chain called Uniqlo. It was love at first sight {and second and third}, and I could hardly wait to bring it home to explore all the possibilities. I recently decided to take it for a spin on a mid-week lunch date. I had six seniors on my basketball team last season, and all of them {minus one} are leaving for college in the next couple weeks. I treated them to a hearty {and not-so-healthy} throng of chicken wings and nachos. Apparently, during a "bathroom" break, they ran out to my car and covered my windows in obscure signage {including "Honk. It's my Birthday!" on the back windshield}. I spent my entire ride home feeling pleased with my chambray threads while waving thanks to those who honked so spiritedly.

Uniqlo chambray dress {similar here and here}, navy tights {love these}, Target belt, Zara pearl necklace, J. Crew Cece ballet flats, Michael Kors Hamilton tote & Jet Set watch

Lunch Date with My Girls

I got punked.

Chambray Love Affair // [top right] Gap polka dot chambray {similar here} + [bottom left] BDG colorblock chambray {similar here and here} + [bottom right] J. Crew chambray popover

My niece Maebyn rocking baby chambray // Gap long sleeve {0-12 months}

Chambray + Printed Denim // Gap chambray shirt, Gap 1969 camo skinny jeans {sold out but similar colors here} + bracelet {loving this}, J. Crew Janey neon flats, Coach boyfriend watch & Rebecca Minkoff navy mini mac

Chambray + Colored Denim // J. Crew chambray popover, 7 for All Mankind yellow skinny jeans {similar here}, Marc by Marc Jacobs ankle boots {similar here}, Tory Burch Amanda logo clutch crossbody & Michael Kors Jet Set watch

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

The Art of Introversion

Sometimes, just sometimes, something on Facebook will catch my eye {aside from ridiculous commentary or an inappropriate photo from a long-lost "friend"}. As a high school teacher, I have been schooled by my students {no pun intended} on the de-evolution of Facebook, which is currently being taken over by Twitter and Instagram; however, I am not a high school student, and I still appreciate keeping up with old {genuine} friends from Christmas Past {I do live 1500-miles away from where I grew up} as well as those in Christmas Present. A couple days ago, my news feed informed me that two of my "friends" liked an article titled "6 Things You Thought Wrong About Introverts" {yes, I realize I am personifying my news feed}.

I have always pondered where to file myself in the introverted/extroverted conversation, so I happily opened the link for a quick read. My world was rocked. My husband is a total extrovert {like a-walking-poster-child, find-his-picture-in-the-dictionary kind of extrovert}. It is very clear that he feels most alive when being surrounded by as many people as humanly possible. He has never met a stranger, and if you need something fixed, he has a friend to do the job {I love this about him, by the way}. I, on the other hand, find {or did find} classifying myself in one of the two camps very difficult. I enjoy people. I mean, I am a teacher, so I interact with {on average} 120 students throughout the course of my day. But, this same job also offers a great deal of solo working time - lesson planning, grading, etc. I enjoy being at home, and I enjoy being alone {and when I say enjoy, I mean love to such an intense degree that I might even feel guilty about it}. Because my husband is so outgoing, I have spent the last few years trying to understand my own psychological makeup. I, too, would classify myself as outgoing - I am not timid around new people or when faced with a new experience, yet I have such a strong desire to recharge away from large crowds of people. I love running, and I love racing, but when people ask to go running with me, I hesitate for {probably} much longer than I should because it is such a sacred solo moment in my day {so sacred, in fact, that I leave my headphones at home}. For so long, I've been trying to fit myself into an extroverted box because I felt such a shame about being introverted; I thought that being an introvert meant that I was shy, awkward and, frankly, downright boring. God Bless the Huffington Post for opening my eyes to a long list of introverts who are, in fact, very sociable but also pensive and independent - Abraham Lincoln, Albert Einstein, Bill Gates, and Gandhi.  I can now walk through life as a proud introvert, relishing my quiet moments alone and being all the better for it.

Summer Picnic // Target racerback tank, 7 For all Mankind Roxanne skinny jeans {similar here}, gray polka dot Tom's, Coach Madison Lindsay crossbody {sold out color, but available style here} & Michael Kors Bradshaw watch

How Frank approaches boxes in the back of the car {sit on them}

Amazing Race: London

I have always had a secret fantasy of being on the game show Amazing Race. Couples race around the world performing physical and mental tasks in order to reach checkpoints first in hopes of winning $1 million at the completion of the event. I have always surmised that my husband and I could dominate such a game {pardon my lack of humility}. Jordan and I were both college athletes, and we are both fairly intelligent; more importantly, we are both two of the most competitive people I know {like can't-play-a-game-of-cards-without-rubbing-a-victory-into-the-other-person's-face competitive}. The problem with this competitiveness, however, is that it can work against us in a scenario where we must work together as a team to make progress {as witnessed in Amazing Race}. For those of you who have ever played shuffleboard with me and my husband, you will know how heated we can get with each other if one is "under-performing." We may or may not have gone home from a picnic or two on bad terms because we failed to win a game of cornhole {true story}.

We arrived in London on my Birthday, and my husband {bless his heart} wanted to make sure I had a wonderful day {after waking up at 4:30 AM to catch our flight from Paris International Airport}, so we rented a car thinking we could get to our hotel quicker; plus, we thought we'd want our own transportation to get around the city and countryside. Hindsight: Terrible idea. The English drive on the left side of the road. We should have known what we were getting ourselves into when we got in the car, and my husband {car keys in hand} opened the passenger door while I sat down {as the passenger} in front of the steering wheel. We were {at least} smart enough to rent a wifi hotspot that would allow us to use our iPhones while driving. My heart started palpitating at the first turn, the wifi hotspot wouldn't turn on, and my husband was asking me for directions in a city I had never been before {terrible combination}. After leaving the airport Enterprise, realizing we had a faulty wifi hotspot, and then returning to the airport Enterprise based on our own sense of direction {since we were GPS-less}, we were finally able to embark on our journey {some 40-odd minutes later}.

When we pulled our hotel up on Google Maps, we learned that the airport was on the far west end of London and our hotel was on the far east end; what we also learned was that central London is comprised almost entirely of toll roads, which meant that we needed to drive {literally} an entire circle around the city in order to avoid the tolls. Google gave us a travel time of approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes {if only we had been so lucky}. London's interstate system is a joke. There is a round-a-bout every mile {or kilometer, or whatever they call it}, and I'm pretty sure Siri (1) was confused herself on how to give directions and (2) could not keep up with the fact that we were forcing her to "re-route" every five seconds because we'd miss the third exit on the five-outlet round-a-bout. I couldn't find a road sign to save my life {because I'm pretty sure they don't have them}, and I'd {attempt to} relay Siri's directions to Jordan in more detail, but I would inevitably fail.

We got to the hotel two hours later and after discovering how fabulous the public transportation system is, we decided to simply {or not so simply} return the car; however, this decision meant {once again} driving to a nearby Enterprise. At this point, we are reliving Just Married {you know, the  movie where Ashton Kutcher and Brittany Murphy go on their honeymoon only to come back divorced because everything that could go wrong, does go wrong on their vacation}. I'm closing my eyes deep in prayer that we don't die {not because of my husband's driving - he did fabulous - but because of the other drivers who have zero cares for anything going on around them}, and I'm nearly on strike for giving anymore directions. We drive to one Enterprise and don't see it, only to drive to another one that doesn't actually exist, only to return to the location of the first Enterprise {which we'd missed by one street} where the staff stays 30 minutes after closing so we can actually get rid of the metal nightmare. I'm pretty sure that if hitting and hair pulling were legal marriage moves, we would have been doing both simultaneously at this point. It's his fault for not listening properly {so I say}; it's my fault for not speaking properly {so he says}. Hashtag: Amazing Race losers. Hastag: relationship drama. Hashtag: let this day be over!

Fortunately for me, I have a thoughtful husband, so when I childishly stomped off to the bus stop with my it's-my-party-and-I'll-cry-if-I-want-to face, he quickly grabbed me and gave me a big hug. We moved from bus to light rail and found an amazing pizza joint with a live band playing in the basement. We chowed down on an exorbitant amount of food {including the best macaroni and cheese I have EVER tasted}, and I was lucky enough to get a little Birthday delight at the end of the meal. More importantly, my husband and I honed our teamwork skills, which we will most definitely need when we are asked to be the next set of contestants on Amazing Race {fingers crossed}.

Driving on the "right" side of the road

On the double-decker bus {finally!}

Restaurant: Pizza East {London, England}

Wood-fired Pizza Man

Birthday Dinner // Marguerite Pizza, Sausage + Broccoli Pizza, Mac + Cheese & Butter Leaf Lettuce + Avocado Salad

Birthday Dessert {go, Hubby!}

Bar: Concrete {underneath the restaurant} // Band: New Build

Party Foul.

Note to self, when traveling abroad, keep close tabs on your passport.

Sunday morning, Jordan and I were required to have our bags in the hallway of our hotel by 7 AM. If you know me or my husband, it should come as no surprise to you that we woke up at 6:50. It should also come as no surprise to you that I packed the night before while Jordan did not. I frantically rolled my bag into the hallway while glaring at my {always cool} husband who nonchalantly packed his suitcase at 6:55. Tension mounted as he rolled his things out at 7:05, and we continued to get ready in preparation for our 8:15 AM bus departure. By 7:45, my nerves got the best of me, and I excused myself to get breakfast. I walked into the hotel restaurant, Jordan followed immediately after, and we both waited in a 20-minute line to get an omelet {I know all you married people are following the relationship dynamics of this little fiasco}.

I'll spare you most of the ridiculous details and let you do the math. I got to breakfast with 30 minutes left before departure. I waited in a 20-minute line. So, I scarfed my small breakfast and left Jordan {still eating} to confirm our bags on the correct bus. Suddenly, the bags are confirmed, the bus is leaving, Jordan's still eating and I'm frantic. I run back to the lobby, tell him to hurry up {lovingly, of course}, and sprint back to our seats. Jordan strolls on 2 minutes later with his cunning smile and ridiculously handsome charm. Phew. We made it. Tension gone. A new adventure begins.

Until. Approximately 20 minutes into our three-hour bus ride to Nuremberg, our tour guide proceeds to remind us that only Euro will be accepted in Germany. Jordan starts searching for the Euro we had purchased at the New York airport. Briefcase? Front pocket? Middle? Zipper? Nope. Where is that Euro?! Then, the face. Oh, that face followed by, "Steph, did you get our passports and money from the safe in our room?" Stomach drops. Heart skips a beat. No. No. No. NO! I quietly walked to the front of the bus {from the back seat, mind you} to tell our tour guide of our predicament. We are already that couple; now we are going to be THAT couple. She looked at the driver and uttered those fearful words, "We have to turn around." Is this really happening? Yes.

I did the walk of shame back to my seat with encouraging words from our bus mates {thank you, experienced travelers}. Jordan, being the gentleman that he is, accepted all responsibility {and offered the entire bus a round of drinks on the boat and a free room at the Kentucky Derby}.

The best part: laughter. Jordan and I could look at each other and find comedy in such a traveling faux pas. Marriage isn't easy by any means, but life together is made in these small moments. We're okay with being THAT couple {at least for this trip}. Yes, our fellow travelers will proceed to ask us if we've forgotten anything for the next 9 days as we traipse around Europe together, but we've created more relationships {which means more memories}. More importantly, we get to spend another day in this crazy place called life {and make it back to the good ol' U-S-of-A with the proper documentation}.

Scenery from Prague to Germany

German Architecture {love!} // College Dorms

German Cuties {Pup AND Pumps} // striped tee {similar here}, coral scarf, Nine West red suede pumps, & pleated skimmer khakis {similar here - wishing I could find those pleats!}

On Board! // J. Crew maxi skirt {old, but similar here}, DV Dolce Vita Archer sandals (gold), Target Xhilaration long & lean tank +  Merona Chambray, Tory Burch aviator sunglasses, Coach Madison Lindsay crossbody {sold out color, but available style here} & Michael Kors jet set watch

I've Got Friends in {Foreign} Places

If you have never traveled internationally, I have one word for you: Go. I am not a world traveler by any means {and I mean ANY}, but the more I experience other cultures, the more I realize how very different and how very the same we really are. While I hate the vagueness of that previous statement {and I would tell all of my high school students the same}, it is beyond true. No matter the country, no matter the people, and no matter the language, we all yearn for community. I'm a firm believer in the fact that we were created this way; God lives in a community within Himself as the Trinity, and I believe we exist in that same community: connecting to ourselves, to Him and to those around us.

Prague is a beautiful city, but its beauty is reliant on our ability to connect to it. When Jordan and I set out on this expedition, we wanted a foreign experience within an informal set of guidelines, so we settled on a cruise through Europe, but we book ended the cruise with additional days in Prague, Paris & London to give us ample time {and freedom} to explore. On our four-hour layover in New York, we met an American who had married a Czech lady and lived in both New York and Prague. We gave him our hotel info and crossed our fingers that he would call and offer to show us around the countryside. Fortunately for us, it worked. After Jordan and I spent 30 minutes trying to figure out the Czech subway system, we bought two tickets to get us outside of the city. Our new friend, Peter, picked us up in his little blue VW Golf-like car, and we set off on our adventure. Peter took us to see castles, golf courses, and the best part, his home {as an added bonus, I proceeded to get car sick weaving through all the back roads, which have no lines and are extremely narrow}. We met his family {including his 2.5 year old daughter who was bilingual, and therefore, smarter than me} and we spent the second part of the afternoon walking around their small village and talking in the village's pubs. Then, we boarded the city train and made our way back to our hotel.

Just when we thought the day couldn't get any better, we started to stroll the city streets in search of pizza {yes, I know, but there are just some things this girl can't live without, and pizza is one of them}. We found an amazing spot on the second story of {yet another} amazing building, overlooking one of the squares. Ironically enough, we didn't end up getting pizza {to default of our waiter who spoke very broken English and misunderstood our order}, but yet again, we made great friends. Traveling to foreign countries where no one understands what you are saying is beyond frustrating, but it creates an immediate, intimate bond between you and other Americans {which can hardly be felt when going about our daily routines in the actual country}. From across the room, I heard a faint, "Can we get a box for this?", I glanced at her black canvas Keds, and I just knew we were in familiar territory. After much-needed English conversation, we stumbled into a pub with her and her boyfriend, sipped on cider and Czech beer, and for that moment, it was like we had known each other our whole lives {despite the fact that they lived 3,000 miles away from us in the United States}. We were, at that moment, four friends traveling together and fraternizing with our German, Irish and Swedish counterparts who were, in fact, doing the same. It's amazing how the simple act of meeting someone with whom you share a national pride, language and culture can create such a deeper appreciation within you for those very things. And, what's even more amazing is how connected you can feel to your country when you are so many thousands of miles away. Here's to making more {foreign} friends in the days to come. Cheers!

Beautiful Prague Architecure

One of the Town Squares

Gelato {yummy!}

Village Bridge

Our New Friends {minus photographer, Jordan} //
Nike Windrunner jacket & Tory Burch aviator sunglasses

Prague Train Station