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The $5 Dinner Party

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There is a place for you at the table.

Hi! I'm Kellie, your friend in the kitchen, supporting your confidence and capacity around food for the nourishment of yourself and those you love.

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21 years ago I cried with my family in the parking

21 years ago I cried with my family in the parking lot outside our dorm building, marking well the transition from that beloved phase of life to this next exhilarating and terrifying one. You were waiting in our shared dorm room when I returned. We agreed, perhaps instantaneously, on most things: our room would be a reflection of us, freshly 18 and ready for all the joy the world could offer; we would meet as many people as we could, everyday sitting with someone new, with special preference for those eating alone in the cafeteria; and we'd stay by each other's side, living our new life together.

A lot happened that year that we couldn't have predicted, but these last nine days I think we could have. From our 2nd floor room with the cinderblock walls wallpapered in photos and magazine pages, filled with inflatable furniture and the piles of clothing we shared, I think we could have seen forward in time to this visit. Forward in time to these precious relationships you're creating with our two Littles, forward in time to this friendship and care and system of support all these years later.

We'll happily pull the stool to the table for you anytime. Our little Bug may throw an enormous fit about it, but you're used to that by now, right?! Because now you're not just my lifelong friend. You're ours. See you again soon, our dear friend.

The culprit was the avocado. Or perhaps it was the

The culprit was the avocado. Or perhaps it was the knife. Or, maybe the culprit was just me and my poor dexterity in that moment. Either way, here I am with a deep gash on my pointer finger and a simple bandaid holding everything together. Stitches should have been used instead of the bandaid, but, alas, the urgent cares (11 of them!) were out of room, capacity having been reached long before I marched into their full waiting rooms yesterday afternoon. No stitches could be obtained throughout the city because people here are sick and there just isn't enough medical care to go around.

My finger will heal and I will be fine. And I hope all the people in all the urgent cares across the city, and the people my doctor told me about when I was finally able to get medical help this morning, the ones in our city who are laid out along the hallways and filled two and three to a room -- gosh I hope they'll be okay, too.

I've heard about the strain on the medical system. I've heard about the full hospitals and the crowding and the reality that not all would be able to get care. But until I put that knife through my finger while slicing an avocado yesterday I didn't really grasp what that meant or how that looked. Our systems can only bear so much weight, and ultimately systems are made up of people, of individuals who have held up collapsing pillars for a year and a half now.

Friends in the medical field. My goodness. This is so so so much. I'm so sorry. Thank you. It's invisible to us outside your clinics and hospitals and offices, but you are surrounded and, I can only imagine, so very tired.

When I was young books were my life-force, summoni

When I was young books were my life-force, summoning me from every waking moment and pulling me away from sleep, activity, engagement. I'd read under the covers by the sliver of light from the hallway, eyes straining, story keeping me awake long after bedtime. I am summoned in the same way now, but hold it in check much more because, when I find *a* book that absorbs me with velocity, it is hard to climb back out. These days I read less, a book or two a month, but many don't take hold. Still the all-encompassing ones come along a few times each year, swallowing me whole so that my light stays on far later than I intended, and my early morning wakeup becomes focused on the story, THE STORY!, in front of me. These are the books that stay, that resonate, that I process my own experiences through, finding recognition and relief page after page. My local bookstore, a delightful virtual bookstore, that sets up pop-ups in local spaces, that allowed me to take not one but TWO! advance copies when I was there picking up book orders last Christmas, they are to thank for this current moment, this absorption of my morning quiet time into the life of this story. I forgot about the book until earlier this week, when our bookshelf shelf collapsed from too many books and too many moves and then the book was in my hands and now, not even halfway through, it's already in my bones.

What are you reading right now? What's the last truly great book you read?

When the spaces are busy, so is my mind. Clearing

When the spaces are busy, so is my mind. Clearing out, consolidating, and reorganizing is my favorite start-of-week life hack. No need for a million organizers from the Container Store (although yes they are very fun to see they are not so fun on the budget)!

#1: post-busy week/fu weekend fridge
#2: emptied, wiped down, washed out, dried, and put back together
#3: ah now we can breathe again
#4: I love a freshly organized essentials drawer. It's not junk if it all has a spot and is all useful!

Not sure what to throw away and what to sort? Give everything a job. No job? Get outta here. But if that food isn't rotten, I bet you can figure out a job for it 😉

The biggest struggle though is always that last fridge shelf. Why do I always want to put it in backwards? Why do I get so frustrated? Why do I always think that there is no way these shelves ever *actually* all fit in here to begin with?! Luckily we overcame but whew it was dicey there for a few minutes

My grandpa always had a fig tree in his backyard.

My grandpa always had a fig tree in his backyard. He lived in sunny San Diego and I can see the way he would open the sliding glass door every morning to go out and check on his beloved tree, clearing up any fallen leaves or dirt around it, checking on leaves for brown spots. He loved that tree. He and my grandma both grew up in Italy, and so the act of growing fruit on their property was not a novelty to them as it was to me, a girl from Denver, Colorado. When we moved to Alabama, I knew I wanted a fig tree like my Grandpa's. Around the time we moved in, an anonymous note arrived in the mail, welcoming us to the city and gifting us with $100. From that gift came our fruit trees: fig, lemon, and lime. For the last year, I've learned how to care for them, lugging them inside before the cold and outside again to soak in sun. After 1 year, we had our first fruit. And now, everyday, there's more. Jammy, soft, slightly sweet, and with seeds just crisp enough to know that it is, indeed, a fig. Just like my Grandpa used to grow.

#celebrateeverything

Day 2 of school for the human children means day 2

Day 2 of school for the human children means day 2 of attention for the leafy kids. Our backyard, just off the forest, is shaded by towering walnut and oak trees. Thrownut is the squirrel who makes these trees its home, and if you're wondering if Thrownut got its name because it belongs on the Olympic baseball team, the answer is a big ol' yes. The fiddle leaf has now been moved out of walnut range, the torn leaves have been removed, the broken leaves propagated, and we are all just trying to peacefully coexist and protect the deck plants from mutilation. Right, Thrownut? Right?!

#sameteam #thriftskirt #fiddlesticks

A few days away down on the coast did this family

A few days away down on the coast did this family good. As Coloradans, six hours of driving got us nowhere close to a coast. As Alabamans (are we Alabamans now, a year in to this grand adventure?), six hours got us smack dab on the ocean! Dinners at sunset, a birthday celebration for our @jasonrdavis , long strolls through adorable waterfront towns, sand in every crack and crevice, and seafood for most every meal. We'll be back for more wave floating soon.

Back home for more birthday goodness for our two birthday boys ✨

If the newly minted five-year old requests chicken

If the newly minted five-year old requests chicken and waffles for his birthday lunch, you pull out all the freezer staples and make it happen!

Happy birthday to our darling littlest creative soul. We love every bit of you.

When saturated color does much more for your space

When saturated color does much more for your space than fresh white ever could. Cheers to a fun project and a satisfying before and after!

Most days, our far-away from home-ness is okay. Ot

Most days, our far-away from home-ness is okay. Other days, it's harder. When these two zoom with their cousins, who are having a sleepover at Nana and Papa's, and want to pack themselves into boxes (with water, food, and airholes, because #smart) so they can join the fun, it's the latter that holds true.

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