Last year I took the leap to share my blog. I was overcome with the support and love I received from my readers. I am so grateful to have shared my life with all of you. In return, you have all shared kind words and wisdom that has inspired me to continue writing. Thank you thank you THANK YOU!
In this next year, I hope to share more stories and thoughts with you all, and I ask that if you've enjoyed my writing in this past year- you share with me any ideas you might have for new blogs! I've been thinking about how I can make Libbynotelizabeth.com a better blog, and I think that more interaction with my readers is the key. You can leave a comment, message me via facebook, or email me at lagroseclose@lcmail.lcsc.edu. Here's to another year of me spilling all my juicy secrets(kidding)-stories-advice-and unorganized thoughts! -Libby
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Happy late bday to my brottttha! Dillon is my older brother by a year and a half, and from the ages of 12-17 he thought I was the biggest troll. To be fair, I am- he just decided to quit fighting my shortcomings. As adults, he is one of my best friends. I think people who fought with their siblings as children can attest to the simple fact that there are stories to be told- that will probably only be funny to the two of you. Dillon once threw my 'That's so Raven" perfume (which smelled like cotton candy and pubescent anxiety) into the street in front of our parents house where it shattered into little shards of pink glass. I'm still fuming about his blatant disrespect for my perfume- that I can only compare to owning a bottle of Chanel- because it was so prestigious. I was not kind to Dillon either, I was actually probably worse than he was. I once raced home from the school bus, leaving Dillon in the wind because he had a broken leg(that I actually helped break in the midst of our fighting weeks prior) to get into our house and lock the door. I remember it was winter and he was pounding on the window screaming at me to let him in. In that moment I saw genuine crazy rage in my brothers eyes. He was so angry with me. I knew he didn't find an ounce of humor in what I had done, and he was going to beat the shit out of me if I unlocked that door. I had already committed. So I shook my head at him, my heart racing for what I was about to do. I walked away. I turned my back and went to the kitchen to grab a snack. Luckily (for Dillon) my dad drove up the drive way with almost comedic timing. The second I had settled into my afterschool snack I saw my dads pickup backing into our driveway. Shiiiiit. I was in trouble. I remember Dillon hobbling in on his gimp leg with seething anger as he went to hit me. LUCKILY (for me) my dad didn't let the whole "eye for an eye" situation play out, and he mediated the fight I had created. For several years it was a continuous cycle of pissing each other off. I don't remember when the transition to being friends with my brother happened, but I'm guessing it took place towards the end of high school. As our friend groups became the same, and our interests began to align, we found that our sense of humor was essentially the same. Laughter was the real building block in our friendship. I know that it was slightly annoying for Dillon to allow his little sister to tag along to hang out with friends, but I knew if I could make him laugh he would let me join. (side note- my mom has always called me Taga- a nick name for tag along, because I always wanted to hang out with my brother) I have Dillon to thank for any witty-shameless sense of humor I have accumulated. He taught me the value of not laughing when something isn't funny, and not everything women say has to be so precious. He laughs the hardest when I say something wildly out of line, and quick witted. He never gave me fake laughs- as most siblings don't. In return, he showed me the best classic movies and let me ride to school with him in his Subaru. For those who don't know, Dillon's Subaru was a popular car for cruising and listening to music when we were in high school. And imagine my excitement when he would drive me to school in the notorious "Sub". When we decided we could be friends, it was a real game changer. We were just too close in age to get along for a majority of our adolescence, but as adults he's one of my favorite people. Dillon always lets me steal food off his plate when we have family dinners (I have serious food envy), and gives the most solid advice when I feel lost in life. He is a genuine, and generous soul. SOOO HAPPY 24th BIRTHDAY, DIL! I hope this year is full of gut busting laughter, and people who remind you how spectacular you are.
-Your favorite little sister Writing while working and going to school is hard, so my apologies for the consistently inconsistent blogs. As I sit here at my computer trying to force myself to write a history paper, I figured what better time to spill all the nonsense in my brain. Perhaps, after I write for fun I can buckle down and write for school. I've noticed I can't focus on homework when I have chaos in my brain. For that reason, I love to journal- or blog. SO I INTRODUCE TO YOU: MY SUNDAY NIGHT CHOATIC THOUGHTS; and by chaotic I mean severely disorganized.
No one likes a liar. I don't find myself lying often, and I consider myself a truthful person, for the most part. But when I do lie, oh baby do I commit!
Through out my life, I have been known for some half hearted-intentional lies. In part, I find it funny to fuck with people. The first worth mentioning was in fourth grade when I told everyone my real name was 'Libeth'. As you can tell from my blog name libbynotelizabeth.com - I am often called Elizabeth. Libby is typically a nickname for Elizabeth, but my parents new from the get go I was a more casual gal who couldn't handle the responsibility of being 'Elizabeth'. Just Libby. But in the drama that 10 year old girl finds herself in, I needed to stir the pot. It started small. At recess telling my friends "the truth". I played it up, acting as though I was freed from the burden of hiding my real name. I sucked about 4 of my closest girl friends into my lie. Please, just call me "Libeth", I insisted. They did so without hesitation. I don't believe I was that good of a liar, but I'm sure my friends loved the drama that I was trying to create. I told people that my parents made a hybrid name of Libby+Elizabeth, in more fourth grade terms -they couldn't decide. I got bolder, telling my teacher and other adults. I honestly don't remember their reactions, but from what I do remember no one exactly called me out on my lie. Probably because it was so stupid, it came off as a joke. My best friend Sidney fed into my lie as well, to the point she started to go by "Sideth". I don't remember the origin of her being called Sideth, but I've always appreciated her for being that friend. To this day Sidney falls right in line with my bullshit. Sidney's step dad still calls me Libeth on occasion, a subtle reminder that I once tried to convince people I had a hybrid name because my parents were indecisive.... Sorry mom+dad;). To be totally honest and transparent, I don't want my readers to think less of me because I find comedy in little lies. For the most part I live my life with honesty and expect the same from others! But on occasion I just can't resist! As I've grown older I have only lied about a small handful of things. On occasion I tell my friends I have terminal diarrhea so I cant hang out, and have feigned car problems to avoid going to class. But both of those occasions are reserved for when I need to catch up on Will and Grace, or have homework I didn't finish- sometimes both at the same time. I will have to dedicate another blog to other stories of me messing with my friends and family, but as I wind down writing this I ask you to reflect on the best lie you've ever told. How old were you, and did a nickname haunt you because of it? XOXO -Libeth Iceland. Scotland. Switzerland. Italy. France. I started my summer off by traveling with one of my best friends, Sadie. She's the friend I got my misspelled tattoo with(check out that blog if you haven't), so you know sending us off into the world together is a recipe for a delicious story. Sadie and I travel well together, because we share similar travel philosophies. We both value good wine & beautiful sunsets. We love to see historic sites, and know the importance of dry shampoo while on the go. Sadie and I were both confronted by a young/power hungry TSA agent, who forced us both to toss our dry shampoos. Our dry shampoos weren't breaking any size limit, but the woman was hell bent on us having greasy hair. I felt like throwing my hands in the air. Instead I tossed the hair product, and went on my way. There is something about being in Europe, that makes you forget all about your hair dilemmas ;)... Sorry, I digress. Onto the travels!
As some of you may have noticed, I went ahead and name dropped all the countries I traveled to at the beginning of the blog, I felt like I was listing my credentials. Libby Groseclose, Travel blogger. We started our journey in Iceland. Iceland was my first experience with midnight sun. It was a little disorienting trying to sleep with the light still in the sky, but it also aided in our adventures, because we never had to worry about losing daylight. Sadie and I rented a car, and drove around to Iceland's nature hot spots. The drive was remarkable, because everything was a contrast of vivid blues and greens, to black and dark red. The black sand beach we visited felt like something out of a painting. The black sand stretched along the beach with the blue ocean kissing the shores. There was a fog playing over the ocean, which added to the picturesque quality. The little beach in Iceland left me feeling grateful. I noticed as I traveled, and appreciated sights like the black sand beach that I felt more whole having seen that beautiful part of the world. I was grateful for this experience that left me with a deeper understanding of natures beauty. As I wind down my experience in Iceland, I must worn everyone how expensive it was. Sadie and I, being the broke college students we are, had to eat rice for just about every meal while on that leg of our trip. Suffice to say, Iceland was not where we dabbled in foreign cuisine. The next country we flew to was Scotland. AND LET ME SAY IT LOUD AND PROUD; SCOTLAND ACCENTS ARE FUCKING GORGEOUS! Although, at times, the accent was so thick I couldn't tell if they were speaking English, I still thoroughly enjoyed listening to people talk. We walked all over the old town in Edinburgh, and drank plenty of beer along the way. The castles and shops were massive, and gave us plenty to explore. We spent a good chunk of our day walking around the Edinburgh castle, which was rich with history. It was a little spendy- about 45$ for the both of us-but it was well worth the money. After walking all day Sadie and I sat down for dinner where we continued our beer consumption, as well as trying haggis. For those who don't know what haggis is, it's sheep heart+liver+lung+spices all chopped up and cooked in a stomach. And it was surprisingly delicious, we ate the whole dish. After trying haggis Sadie and I were feeling confident. We had covered a lot of ground and tried new things. How did we try to celebrate? Getting tattoos. It was definitely influenced by the beer. The shop we walked into was about to close, so our tattoo celebration was short lived. This was probably a good thing. As I mentioned earlier in the blog, last time I got a tattoo with Sadie it ended up misspelled and prominently placed on my shoulder. And I was sober when that happened... Counting my blessings this time around. We ended our night walking around Edinburgh, and looking in little shops. Our time in Scotland was short, and I am certain I will return someday. It was fantastic. The food...the history... THE ACCENTS ;) The next country we visited was Switzerland, where we rented a car that we drove to Italy. At this point in our trip, Sadie had done ALL the planning, and I pulled a brief stint where I attempted to help. Let me clarify this stint lasted thirty minutes in the car, and I caused more stress than anything (God bless Sadie's patient+humorous+Libby-forgiving nature). As we sat in the car and scrolled through sites to help us decide where we wanted to go (because Sadie and I are FUN broads who live life without over planning- side note; is it redundant that I had to refer to us as FUN?) ... I digress.. We were searching through websites when I came across a cute little site I want to shout out for any one who is traveling locally, or out of the USA myitchytravelfeet.com their catch phrase is "the baby boomer's guide to travel" WHICH I THOUGHT WAS BAD ASS, and as I scrolled through the site, I found it super helpful. Sadie had ultimately done all the real heavy lifting, and found us a gorgeous little room in the mountains of Italy. The drive from Switzerland to Italy was something I will always cherish. The mountains were all consuming. Sadie and I listened to songs that were meaningful to us as we drove through the vast mountains. Listening to music and taking in scenery on car rides is my favorite. The drive to Italy was like nothing I had ever seen, between the mountains and stone roofs, I was mesmerized. While in Italy we overindulged in pizza, ice cream, and wine. Heaven. We ended our two weeks of travel by staying with Sadie's family in France. After being left to our own devices, the home cooked meal Sadie's cousin, Gaelle provided us with was a little slice of home that I had missed. It was nice to sit down with family and enjoy a meal. Gaelle owns a goat farm, so on top of the hospitallity, I was also indulged in goat cheese for every meal.(XOXOXO, Gaelle). The time I spent with Sadie's family was precious. Gaelle worked in the morning, and showed Sadie and I around her town in the evening. I'm grateful to have met her friends, and seen where she calls home. As I prepared to head home, Sadie prepared to stay for another two weeks. Sadie and Gaelle found me a carpool deal to take me part of the way to the airport. I was very interested when I got in the car and found the driver was a rugby player from Argentina, the front passenger a Welsh woman, and beside me was a little old lady in bright yellow pants from Toulouse, France. Most of the car ride the passengers spoke French, and occasional the little old woman beside me would grab my shoulder and laugh. I had no clue what she was saying, but her happiness was a little contagious, and I learned while in France everyone is very close. People greet with kisses on the cheek. When I got to the air port I said goodbye to my car pool friends, and made my way inside. I was sad to leave the adventure of travel, but excited to go home and see my family. I hope that I continue to make travel a priority in life. I feel strongly that there is much to be gained by exposing yourself to new people and experiences. There is so much joy to explore in this world. -Libs As many of my social media friends know, April 29 was my 22 birthday! I feel so overwhelmed with the love and kind words from the people in my life. As an official 22 year old woman, maybe I should get a roll on this adulting business?
no. that shits for 23 year olds. Next year for sure. Sorry, I digress. The main point of this blog is to share a little knowledge I have gained on surviving my early 20s, thus far. I will preface this blog by saying I am barley scraping by, so take my words with a grain of salt. Treat yourself like a glorious, beautiful, house plant. In these past few years I have learned the importance of drinking water, and spending time in the sunshine. If I have any freshly graduated youngsters reading my blog, take this advice. Allow natural light into your living space, it helps the sad days, and makes you get out of bed for your morning classes. Additionally, drinking water and staying hydrated IS LIFE CHANGING. No, seriously. I'm pretty sure I was severely dehydrated for about a year, when most of my fluid intake was either PBR or coffee. When I drank water more frequently I realized- Oh? That's what is feels like to be alive? NEAT. Photosynthesis? You can't eat taco bell every time you drink. I feel like the font of that sentence made it abundantly more cute. But you know whats not cute? Getting drunk and eating 8 tacos. That shits really humbling the morning after. You wake up surrounded by crunchy shells and shredded lettuce, wondering what possessed you. I've learned if you eat dinner before you go out with friends, you are less likely to succumb to the drunchies (drunk munchies). The morning after a night out, you can get some brunch, that's more classy;). Call your people and tell them you love them. Life's too short to not connect, or reconnect with the people who matter. Where ever you are in life, never hesitate to shower someone you care about with a little sunshine. Brighten their day with a phone call, text, or going out for a cup of coffee. I have had very few regrets worth holding onto, but I always have a hard time knowing I didn't reach out to a friend when they were struggling. AND HAVE YOU MET MY FRIENDS? THEY ARE SWEET SOULS WHO DESERVE TO KNOW HOW LOVED THEY ARE. The older I get, the more I realize how important it is to take care of the people you love, and I am blessed to have the people in my life reciprocate this belief. Your early 20s are for accumulating experiences, books, art, laughter, wisdom, knowledge...not money. I am known as what you would call a 'baller on a budget'. I want to do everything, but I have no money. But that's okay! I've learned to prioritize what I really want. I have never chose a new purse over a trip with my friends. I have learned going to local art exhibits are a non expensive, but valuable and mind expanding. I would rather travel the world, than stay at home with a new wardrobe. I have pulled away from the need to have what everyone else has, and began to value the gift of experiences. +++++++ HUGE shout out to my parents who are endlessly supportive of me living life to the fullest. They taught me the importance of living life for simple pleasures, as well as big adventures. Embrace where you are at. Since starting college, I have found myself looking at everyone around me thinking 'what the hell am I doing'. It's so easy to compare yourself to others. I have friends who have babies, getting married, buying houses, graduating college. And here I am, living at my parents house, googling "Can I drink wine while on antibiotics?" (that is sincerely the last thing on my google search). But I also don't think I give myself enough credit for the kick ass things I am doing. I am going to school for a major in History for secondary ed, and I'm living for new experiences. As I typed that out I felt gross for being so braggy, but I think we are taught to stay quiet about our successes, and not celebrate too loudly. I have friends who are living life to the fullest working part time jobs, with no college experience. I think that's pretty kick ass as well. We are all just trying our best, and we need to stop comparing. Comparing steals away from the contentment/happiness you can feel by loving where you are at in this moment. As I wind this blog down, I just want to say thank you and love you to everyone who made 21 a great year. I am blessed beyond words. I hope 22 is a year that allows me to grow in love, faith, happiness, and experiences. -Libby Happiness is a Sunday morning. There is nothing better than the rhythm I find myself in on Sundays. I often start my mornings with coffee, overusing the creamer and feeling no guilt. I have been raised by a coffee snob(my mom) who thinks the creamer in my coffee is an assault to the magic that coffee already possesses. And to that I say; life is too short to impress coffee snobs. I drink my coffee proudly. NO SHAME IN THE COFFEE CREAMER GAME. After my coffee, I love some trashy reality TV. As I sit down on my lazy Sundays I always make time for my shows. I think part of my love for these shows is because they are such a contrast to my life. Where in Idaho can you find these types of characters?! No where, much to my chagrin. I tried to get my mom to star in "Real House Wives of Latah County", but she wouldn't go for it. Lost opportunity on both our parts, if you ask me. After I watch a plethora of TV, I try to do something constructive. I am a procrastinator, so there is always a pile of homework, laundry, cleaning, cooking, and writing that needs to be done. I think most people can relate to the Sunday catch up that takes place before starting the week. One thing that falls in with my Sunday rhythm is family dinner. I love to cook for the people I love. My family always pretends my cooking is good, but I have to wonder because I always overuse garlic. I can't tell if my excessive use of garlic is a character flaw, or one of my greatest strengths. I will incorporate it into anything. Chicken? ADD GARLIC. Pasta? ADD GARLIC. Rice? ADD GARLIC. Water? ADD GARLIC. Garlic? ADD SOME MORE FUCKING GARLIC. Luckily for me, the people in my life don't hate garlic. I love eating the food, and sharing laughter with my parents and brother. I laugh the hardest when we sit and share stories, they are the funniest people I know. Speaking of reality TV, GIVE US A SHOW. We are hilarious, and Keeping Up With The Groseclose's has a ring to it! @Eentertainment @VH1 @CMT (personally I think CMT would be a great network for my family's show, because Dillon does a great Matthew McConaughey impression, and that would win over a lot of Texan hearts). After laughter and food we tend to split up and go our separate ways for the week. I feel like my Sundays recharge my battery. I will always be a Sunday Lovin’ fool.
Sundays are sprinkled with insignificant truths, unintentionally meaningful. -Libby Am I qualified to give advice to our next generation of little lady CEOs, writers, nurses, teachers, doctors, mathematicians, musicians, ETC? In some aspects, definitely not. I swear too much and say things that make most adults question my wisdom. But I do have some advice that I wish someone would have shared with me when I was younger and starting to figuring myself out. As a full disclaimer I did have a wonderful mother who was always sharing her wisdom, but I was too sassy-teen-angsty to listen to her. This is the advice I would give to a young Libs:
1. Smile and laugh with no inhibitions. Don't hold back because of the crooked grin, braces, or the fact that no one else is cracking a smile. Smiling and laughter is beautifully contagious. 2. Be nicer to your siblings, they'll probably be your best friends some day. 3. As a young woman, it hurts when someone makes remarks about your body. UNDERSTAND THIS, our society is fucked. You don't deserve to live with insecurity, and I hope you start to practice self love. 4. You will use and abuse eye liner, at some point. If you're grooving with the over the top eye liner, WHO CARES. Most fashion choices you make will be laughable in five years. This is coming from the girl who wore black eye shadow and thick eye liner. I GET IT. 5. Embrace your talents, and work around your weaknesses. No one is good at everything (unless you're Beyonce), so stop comparing yourself to your friends. Take the leap and follow your talents. 6. It's actually very valuable to look like a troll from the ages 11-16. If puberty is too fast/good to you, how would you develop character? The nicest thing my brother ever said to me, as I was in tears feeling the weight of not being good enough-"Libs you're not the most beautiful girl in the room, but I think you may be the funniest. People who are too good looking don't develop character, and looks don't last forever". YOU LEARN SO MUCH IN THE TROLL YEARS! 7. Your education is valuable, listen to your teachers. 8. It's totally OK to be young, and love things that are a part of your childhood. You don't have to grow up too fast. 9. Don't wear stripper heels. I'm not saying this because they look declasse. I'm saying this because they are painful, and you will eat shit, and it will be embarrassing. I once had a pair of clunky, sparkly pink, high heels. I wore them to church (because I make really good judgement calls), and I slipped and ripped my tights. They also killed my feet. Not worth it. 10. Your friends will disappoint you, and you will disappoint them. True friendships will grow and forgive. The friendships that fall apart are OK to walk away from. 11. Invest in a good bra. Life is too short to wear cute push up bras that hurt your shoulders. RESPECT YO BOOBS. 12. Don't be mean to other girls. Girls can be cruel, and your words can affect people. Empower and respect your fellow ladies, even when they aren't being uplifting to you. 13.Every relationship is a lesson. Always learn from the people in your life, but never stick around if it's toxic. "I believe in the woman I am striving to become." -Tene Edwards -Libby How does a spicy women, such as myself, handle mischief? Not well. I frequently find myself looking back on something I've done, thinking, what the actual fuck Libby. But I must say, spicy women have great stories. Or maybe they're lessons? No, no, definitely not lessons because that would indicate I don't repeat my mistakes. This is the story of Halloween 15', the day I learned I could no longer handle the responsibility that comes with dressing up as Macho Man Randy Savage. I simply couldn't snap into Slim Jim. This particular Halloween my best friend Sidney and I dressed up as WWE wrestlers, because we are nothing if not charming. Facial hair on girls is a staple of a sexy Halloween costume. Sidney was Hulk Hogan and I was Macho Man Randy Savage. At some point in the night Sidney and I ended up at different parties, so we probably looked especially stupid as we were each the only girls at each place to have facial hair. As I type this out I realize we would have looked ridiculous whether we were together or not. I would like to start this story by explaining waking up the morning after Halloween. I woke up to an epic hangover, laying on my brothers couch with left over hair on my face from the beard I glued on the night before. It looked like pubes were on my cheeks, but I assure you it was fake beard hair- a much more lady like explanation. I was hurting, it felt like I had wrestled someone the night before. Little did I know, I had. I wrestled my brother (who graciously woke up at 3AM to come get me from a party I was wreaking havoc on), in front of everyone at the party. When Dillon woke up the morning after Halloween, he gave me the look that only your sibling gives you. It was a smirk that was a mixture of "you're a bitch" and "you're hilarious". My brother has my sense of humor, we get along great. He knew the minute he saw my hungover ass that he was going to embarrass the shit out of me by telling me what I did the night before. He came out of his bedroom and poored himself a cup of coffee, as he prepared to tell me about my mishap. I was still in my Macho Man Randy Savage costume (minus the beard), which made the story he was about to tell me even more rich. For the people who are reading this thinking I'm a trash can person for blacking out, you are correct, but I in no way think it's cool or encourage drinking to the excess that I had. It's dangerous, and I'm lucky I have friends and family who took care of me. But I'm all about keeping it real with my blog, and sometimes mistakes are made. This was one of those nights, I made an ass out of myself. I had gotten very drunk by the time I reached the party, and wouldn't listen to anyone. My friends ended up calling my brother to come get me, because he may be one of the only people I would listen to. HAHAHA THEY WERE WRONG. By the time Dillon got there, I was in the back of the apartment in my red tights, and flamboyant cowboy hat, refusing to listen to anything he told me. What do you do when your sibling is being a stubborn asshole who won't move an inch? You put them in a head lock. I don't blame him at all, I believe I went to swing on him when he finally decided he just needed to get me out of there. When he got me to the living room we were in a full out wresting match, I was grabbing his legs, while he put me in a full nelson- this is not an exaggeration. People were watching in disbelief. Dillon told me the next morning there was a group of people who didn't know that we were siblings so they were very confused, and he just looked at them and said "she's my sister". and they were all like "aaaaaah ok makes sense". I had also puked all over that night, so the people at the party were ready for me to go home (they were actually very patient with me). Dillon and me were both laughing when he told me the story. The visualization of Dillon and I creating a scene at this party still has me gut rolling with laughter. It took Dillon, and my friend Cody lifting me up and carrying me down a flight of stairs to get me to the car. They dropped me on my head once, because I was thrashing around so much. Dillon was so fed up with my backtalk and defiance that he literally threw me in the back seat. When I drink too much, I can be all sass. But not clever or mean sass. I'm the kind of sass that makes no sense, but I'm sure I was hell bent on conveying my anger. Dillon is a good brother. He was probably annoyed and embarrassed to be wrestling me in front of a party, but he did it anyway because his little sister was being a shitty drunk who needed to go to bed. Dillon reminds me of this story when I need to be humbled. I refer to that night as the Halloween of 15'.I don't think the words "OH YEAH!" have escaped my mouth since that day. As I end this blog, I encourage you to think twice before dressing up as a WWE wrestler if you know you are going to consume copious amounts of beer.
"Snap into Slim Jim!" -Macho Man Randy Savage Sorry for the long pause in my blogs, my laptop is currently out of working order. For Christmas this year we went to Hawaii, and while on vacation my laptop decided it was going to take a vaca as well. Enough about that shifty bastard(my laptop), and on to the vacation blog! Holidays with my family are spent at my parents house. We watch Footloose (the original) every year while we put up the tree. It's become a Christmas tradition to watch Kevin Bacon cut loose while we string popcorn. My brother, Dillon and I typically break into the wine on Christmas Eve, that goes along with our traditions. This year we decided to go to Hawaii with our family friends. Rum, beaches, and sunshine in no particular order. The plane ride over was long and exhausting. My brother so graciously let me know my hair had dandruff, mid plane ride. I would like to blame the hotel shampoo and also let my readers know my hair is typically in Pantene commercial condition. I don't believe this is an important detail about this trip, but people should know I look ROUGH when I travel. When we got to Kauai, it was breath taking. I was a little in awe over the beautiful ocean, and I was more than ready for drinks on the beach. We wasted no time in getting to the rum distillery. If you ever go on vacation to Kauai, I recommend rum tasting. I was feeling very Captain Jack Sparrow by the end of the first day. My vacation allowed me a lot of time to lay on the beach, and listen to the waves. That is my favorite thing in this world. It's peaceful. I get the best writing done when I lay in the sand and look out into the crashing waves. I have always been a beach bum (the Oregon Coast is my jam), and I find my creativity flows when I am by the water. I was able to get some really nice journaling time in, while we spent time by the ocean. While I was writing, or simply watching the waves crash, my family searched for sea shells. I found it to be really serene looking at my family sprinkled throughout the beach, digging in the sand. We were all spread out, but it felt like we were spending quality time together, especially when everyone would come together to compare sea shells. We spent a lot of time in the ocean swimming. I, in nature, like to push boundaries. That, mixed with rum had me swimming out in the ocean a little too far with my friend Makayla. We were quickly reeled in by our family. On one of the last days, all of us were jumping the waves. It was hilarious. One minute we would be laughing and diving through the water, and the next we would be tossed and knocked with the undertow, I called it quits when I got a bloody nose. At one point during our wave jumping two boys (I'm guessing 12) approached me to tell me I looked southern. I'm still perplexed by that statement, and have only been able to come up with one reason. I look like I eat a lot of butter. Southern people always are cooking with butter. My reasoning is flawless, but it still has me wondering what the hell those kids were getting at. Kauai provided us with memories we will never forget, with family and friends who we love. We did so much during our two week vacation. We zip-lined, snorkeled, ate delicious food, watched the sun set, went boating, drank ungodly amounts of mai tais. and just enjoyed each others company. I hope to write more about the vaca, but I mostly wanted to give everyone a quick update, because I haven't blogged in a while. Until next time, XOXO Gossip Lib |
AuthorLibby Anne Groseclose Archives
June 2023
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