I’ve been big mood purging lately – and it feels goooood.

It feels so much better to go through my already existing collection of **everything under the sun** with a fine tooth comb rather than constantly scouring the internet or a thrift store for more.

Some may find it morbid to be reminded that actually we can’t take a thing with us when we go. I’ve been honored to play a part in making sense of what’s left in the world after a life is gone – most recently for my grandmother Dorothy. She voluntarily moved out of the home she built with her husband into an independent living facility nearby in (to my recollection) her late 80s, and she lived there until she passed last July at age 97. What a feat! Most of us have a death grip (pardon the pun) on our independence and our surplus of stuff and couldn’t fathom leaving it behind willingly. But the thing is everything must go. All of it! But it’s up to us if we do it willingly or not.

I want to do it of my own volition. I want the detritus of my life to be in order when I’m not here to make sense of it anymore. And while I am hoping many years stand between me now and me no longer, I have no idea what’s to come. But I do know how I feel when I’m not drowning under a ton of items I don’t use/wear/cherish/even remember I own.

A piece of this puzzle that’s continued to stand out to me is, as always, my life partner. Whether I am scouring the thrift for a new score or ruthlessly throwing out everything I touch, he’s there supporting me. No one has ever celebrated a new find with me like Robert Reid Geddes – even when we both know I’ve nary a hanger to hang it on. And when I’m scrambling to find packing supplies because I sold something on Poshmark? Rob’s got some for me! It’s so easy to support someone when they’re doing something we understand and which aligns with our own philosophy. But when something doesn’t make a lick of sense in our personal world? A bit more difficult! Not for Rob, somehow. He inspires me endlessly, and this is just the most recent chapter of his love writing itself in front of me. My decluttering only feels this satisfying because I decided to do it – every part of the process. I was not nudged, judged, given an ultimatum, or even a single suggestion.

May we all be given the space to exist. Whether you’re consuming or purging, ebbing or flowing, I hope you feel love through it all as well.

We spent the absolutely sweltering early afternoon at Dollie’s Farm in Franklin, IN. The weather has no business behaving this way in late September, but we had a wonderful time despite the heat. We go pumpkin patching together every year, but we’d never been to Dollie’s before. I am so certain it won’t be the last time! This place was ripped from the pages of a fairy tale.

Three of Rob’s besties are engaged – including both couples with us here! This is such a sweet phase of life for this friend group, with so much to look forward to. Our annual outing to the patch is always my personal fav and though we’ve tried a few different spots throughout the years – I’ve gotta say this one was my favorite. The single downside (in my entirely unbiased, objective opinion) was the lack of refreshments, so just wanted to throw that out there in case you wind up checking it out – though I hear if you head down there on 10/7 they’ll have a lot of vendors (including one selling pumpkin spice mimosas!) so it’s not an always drinkless, foodless spot – but I’m sharing that for my fellow hangry humans.

Can’t stop won’t stop taking photos of this one – I will doggedly pursue you and gas you up for the rest of my days, RRG! I still can’t believe this life is mine and I’m the one who gets to live it.

After a quick late lunch, we all went our separate ways – Rob and I headed home to a quick nap (though I also snuck in a nappetizer while Rob drove us home so to be fair – mine was not so quick). We went to the grocery once we could muster up the strength and energy, where I found…you guessed it – more mums. It is no small thing to me that Rob never even hinted at the fact that we just drove an hour and a half for mums, or all the pumpkins we also bought…but instead helped me pick out the ones we’d like on our porch, and made sure they had a safe spot in the cart. Easy like Sunday morning (or evening), loving this one.

I hope you had a great weekend and got all the mums and pumpkins your porch can hold, if that’s your thing.

Ashley

Or are they?

It’s not going to come as a shock to anyone that I’m not a summer time girly. I simply *cannot* stop myself from griping when I step out into 86 degree heat and a million percent humidity. I won’t stand for it any longer!

Happy Fall everyone. I’ve decided it’s fall, and I’m freeing us from these shackles.

Now that it’s my favorite season, I figured I would share today’s weather appropriate fit – remember when blogs were used for musings and inspo and not just as a sales tool? We’re throwing it back there today.

I’ve loved a navy as late, but I don’t own much of the color. I knew I needed to find a navy top when I stumbled upon these vintage navy and gingham trousers. The navy in the pattern is dark enough that I can definitely do a black with it as well, but I wanted to match it more exactly.

I wound up finding the button down at Banana Republic Factory (because Factory only because I am far too thrifty for regular Banana Repulic!). I love that BRF has a petites line and basically everything is on sale always.

I am pretty sure the main reason I’ve avoided navy in the past is I’ve found it hard to match with a shoe – but I have great news. I am 30 now and care far less if anyone has a problem with my shoe choices! Also I have decided brown matches anything so brown it is. I’ve had these Madewell loafers since 2018 and they’ve held up wonderfully. They also click when I walk, which is a huge bonus.

It has been one hell of a weekend.

I had a lot of fun things lined up for this weekend – Easter celebration with my dad’s side of the family, Frugal Friends dinner, a walk in Holliday Park with a friend. None of that happened.

I picked up Buddy after work Thursday and poor pal had an absolutely raging ear infection. He’s not new to the ear infection – he had tubes put in his ears last February for it. This was something altogether different. His ear was draining a sometimes yellow/sometimes reddish substance that would. not. quit. Friday wound up being a PTO day to hang out with Gav and tend to his leaky ear, but the infection made sleep awful tricky and the fever that came with it certainly didn’t help. I couldn’t take him to a family gathering like that, so we stayed home. By midday Saturday, I could tell I was developing a fever of my own! Weekend plans were off.

By today (Sunday) midday, Buddy was much better. I felt guilty that he’d had such a lousy weekend but forgot the magic that is a child’s thinking – he’d gotten to watch TV and lay on the couch with me for days on end and he’d clearly already let go of the misery that was the ear infection/fever combo. He said he’d had a great weekend and wanted to keep snuggling. I’ll let it go too.

Tomorrow I’ll walk into Milhaus 2.0 – our new HQ that has been (at least) a year in the making – for the first time. I am a girl who gets attached to any and everything – the place I spend many many hours a week is no exception. Our firsts are so often easily set apart and noticed – but rarely our lasts. Life moves quick and we can’t always know the last time we’ll pick up our child, hug our parent, sit in Fletcher for your millionth meeting, etc. This time I knew, so I’d been saying quiet goodbyes and reflecting on all the growing I did in that space.

Covid gave me the gift of time with my son that I would not otherwise have had. Once my maternity leave was up, I returned to work 5 days before the Covid shutdown, and I never returned to that building until I turned in my notice and came to collect my things. I had no gradual goodbye. I did, however, have more hours with my son in his early life because I was able to work from home with him there with me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, but the mental strain of trying to do two full time jobs at once had eaten away at my mental health. With so much time inside, I also lost touch to something that is so much a part of me – dressing myself and going to work. I thought working from home would be ideal – I learned otherwise. It was much more like living at work.

My now boss reached out to me on LinkedIn about a job posting he thought I might be a good fit for based on my prior experience. I had no intent to take the call but I told Taylor about how random it was. She told me I absolutely must take the call, she’d been following Milhaus for years and had even applied to work there herself. From what I could see online, they seemed like a decent company but I liked working from home – right?

I took the job, and I honestly have a hard time wrapping my mind around how much I’ve grown because of it. It forced me out of the house again, to find suitable childcare for Gavin on the days he wasn’t with a grandparent, and to get dressed. I missed that me, and boy was it great to have her back.

The exhaustion of a new job also kicked my ass – my former position had every procedure written out, and there was no roadmap for my current role. At all.

It’s been an absolute joy for me to find my way in the working world again – in a role I was able to carve out for myself. I never set out to do what I’m doing, or imagined my life would look like it does. It’s so much better than I would have been able to comprehend.

Tomorrow is another new chapter – I can’t wait to begin.

Happy 2023! Today I am alive and well and that seemed reason enough to don a humongous bow and vintage dress and twirl around for a bit. I used to have so much fun with fashion – at the end of the year most of all. I have no idea where I got the idea that YE means it’s finally time to wear what I want without a care in the world. Why it didn’t occur to me to spend the other 364 days of the year doing the same is beyond me…but every NYE I wore the craziest outfit I could think of and then wore a chiffon, bubblegum pink party dress to ring in the new year at my house, with my parents, in the life I always led which did not require anything near so formal as a pink party dress. I think it was aspirational – I was “dressing for the job” I wanted rather than the job I had, if you will.

My dad was a new years baby, so every new year is also intricately tied to my dad celebrating another year around the sun. We celebrate his birthday at Pizza King in Pendleton, and it is always a rowdy time. Rob was driving us to the celebration today and the emotions hit me like a brick. It didn’t hurt that we were listening to Noah Kahan, whose lyrics always hit me hard. The below especially stuck out to me:

“‘Cause everyone’s growing/and everyone’s healthy/I’m terrified that I might never have met me”

I can’t even accurately describe how I feel stepping into this year. Everyone IS growing and healthy, and I am also so grateful I have gotten to meet me. I felt like I was living a life meant for someone else for so long – and now I know it’s because I was. It was not meant for me, nor I it. It led me to my current reality, so of course I can’t ultimately say it wasn’t the right thing. I don’t really think the universe makes mistakes because nothing is personal, or good, or bad. It just is. And while I can’t quantify why, I can finally say I feel perfectly at ease with where and who I am. I am so thankful for my family’s and friend’s health, and I also know this won’t always be the case. What a gift that today, it is.

I don’t have a clue where 2023 will take me – but I know it will have days for twirling and bow wearing, and days where the tears won’t quit. Many days will have a bit of both.

I sure am happy to be dressing for the life I live, because it’s definitely the life I want.

Happy New Year! All my love,

Ashley

This is my first blog post under my new moniker – it’s starting to settle right in and feel like I was never anything else. In case it trips you up like it did the first time I read it, it’s pronounced like “lettuce”, but Geddes. Maybe a blog on our wedding day should’ve preceded this one, but if I don’t write when I think to do it, it just…won’t happen. I haven’t written on this bad boy in ten months again. I’m no mathematician, but that’s awful close to a year.

My little buddy is almost 3 now. That fact is hard for me to wrap my head around – I would imagine that goes for any parent watching their kid grow. While my introduction to parenthood was nothing like I pictured it would be, the actual parenting gig is at times spot on and at others, absolutely nowhere near. I’ve done a lot of meeting myself in parallel to the time I spend meeting him, and I know we’re growing together. 

Last week we made the transition to Buddy’s new bedroom furniture – to be honest it was one I was dreading as he seemed adamant on keeping his crib. There was no real time constraint for why it had to be this week, but I am determined to let things go when it feels time rather than keep something in place just because I’m not “ready” to let go. It felt time enough, and it turns out it was! Though he seemed very certain he didn’t want new furniture, he was very receptive to walking into his new setup. He still has his changing table and rocking chair, but the crib was replaced with a bed and now he has a bookshelf for all his favorite reads. Rob’s parents gave us the furniture – they’re moving out of their house within a month or so (another tale to tell). I’m so thrilled we could give it new life almost 30 years after they bought it for their little boy.

A big bed in place of the crib opens up room for new possibilities – we’ve been reading books together on his bed now instead of squishing into the rocker. I love him on my lap and marvel at how my head barely fits over top of his now. I know it won’t for too much longer. I was reading “Love You Forever” and got to the part toward the end which is a real tear jerker when you’re an absolute sap like myself. I got through the past few pages through a broken voice (I was sick as well as emotional) and buddy noted the change in my voice and pace. He immediately tried to comfort me, turning around and touching my face saying, “Don’t cry mommy! You’re a big boy”.

This wrecked me much more than the book. I read all the books, listen to all the podcasts, do all the things I can to parent him as wholeheartedly as possible. I don’t see what he said to me as a failing on anyone’s part, but this is the antithesis of what I hope he knows of being a boy, and eventually a man – a full person most of all. I know he was parroting something he’s been told when he cries, and that’s okay. We do what we’ve been taught, and I know whoever’s mouth that fell out of meant only to comfort Gavin. 

I hold that and honor that as someone’s experience, and I also don’t want that for Gavin. I was blessed to live in a household with a man who let me see his full humanness – that isn’t the case for everyone. I tried to tell him that big boys cry, and also that crying isn’t negative. These are big concepts for a little guy; they can be big concepts for big people too. Big feelings can be big time inconvenient when they hit, but I want so badly for him to know he is not his reactions, and that his feelings are meant to be felt. I hope he can see his feelings as guideposts for what’s going on in his head and in his heart, but not as either a good or a bad thing. I really believe I can only do this by embodying it myself. The more authentically I live and feel and love and exist and mess up, the more he’ll understand he can (and absolutely will) too. He is a sponge, and I’ve got to be cognizant of what he’s soaking up.

Let’s see what year three brings us.

Love,
​Ashley