Day 24:

Today was a good one.

My mom came into Dallas for an appointment, so we grabbed brunch and wandered through an antique mall afterward. I didn’t buy a single thing—and for me, that’s a small miracle. (Somebody call Guinness, because that’s record-breaking restraint.) I was proud of myself, even if it was hard.

But honestly, the best part wasn’t the restraint—it was the company. I’d missed my mom, and getting a whole day with her felt like such a gift. We laughed, we wandered, we dreamed up Halloween decor plans. It reminded me how much I value time with her—not just as family, but as a person I truly enjoy being around.

And layered into that was something I didn’t realize I’d been missing: adult conversation in general. Leaving teaching means leaving behind that constant hum of connection—coworkers to laugh with, to vent to, to just be with. Time with my mom filled some of that gap today, and I think I appreciated it even more because of that.

I haven’t mentioned this yet here or on socials, but I’m in a new season. A quieter one.

This is the first fall I haven’t gone back to teaching.

Last year was my final year in the classroom, and while I knew it was time, the shift has been… strange. I used to be around people all day—coworkers, students, hallway chatter. Now it’s mostly me, my thoughts, and my cats. (Who, to be fair, are much better coworkers. Terrible at staff meetings, though.)

I had a few freelance gigs lined up in the production world, but they haven’t kicked in yet. So, I’m here—with more time than I’m used to and a very real desire to make something out of it. If this blog, these reels, this strange little self-built life ever started bringing in what I made as a teacher? I’d keep going. I’d finish the book I started (about flarmahoogans, but we’ll get into that another day).

Today felt like a reminder that I am building something. Even if it doesn’t always look like it.

My walk today was the antique mall. Turns out weaving between curio cabinets and velvet chairs counts as cardio. I hit my water goals. I picked up the girls, helped with school stuff, and made space for both chaos and calm.

And about that chaos…

My house is currently overrun with Halloween decor and little black-and-orange piles that seem to multiply when I’m not looking. I’ve been trying to decorate for fall for about a week now, which mostly means things are halfway done. Nothing’s quite finished, but nothing’s untouched either. Pinterest would call it seasonal styling in progress. I call it: orange chaos corner.

There are corners mid-makeover. Trash that needs to be taken out. Ideas in progress, all stacked in quiet little reminders that I can’t do it all at once.

But I’ve realized: building something takes up space.
Not just in your mind or your schedule—but in your home. In the places that usually signal order or ease. And right now, my house is carrying the weight of that tradeoff. My house didn’t exactly volunteer to be collateral damage, but here we are.

Because when I choose to pour energy into a reel or a blog post or a big dream, something else usually waits. Lately, it’s the piles. The floors. The tidying that’ll get done tomorrow… maybe.

I can’t do it all.
But I can keep showing up.
And I can keep building the life I want—day by day, pile by pile. And occasionally, pumpkin by pumpkin.

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