Chocolate Covered Caramel Apple kind of Monday

With a title like that, I’m sure all my readers are thinking “I’d like that Monday!”.

It’s never really a bad day when chocolate and caramel is involved is it?

Unless you really miss the comfort of home, or your head is filled the self doubt inflicting disfigurement known as “impostor syndrome”, or the thought of being held in the arms of your love 2500 miles away is a desire so deep in your heart that you feel as though your senses are falling out of it. Or all of it combined.

Some days are easier than others. Some days I get really excited to venture out into the world and experience something new and exciting. Other days however, like on a chocolate covered caramel apple kind of Monday, it hurts to swallow from the puffy little lump in the throat. On some days the stress and lack of confidence makes it feel like none of the trial is worth it. That going back to the comfort of home would be of best interest for the sake of knowing what is expected.

That there lies the problem.

If believing in yourself to take on a challenging project, or speak op about your career goals, or just having the confidence in knowing that your all is better than enough is too hard to fathom, then surely believing that running away and building a happier life based on that mind set is just as laughable.

It takes courage to do what we do. I am talking about young adults stepping out into industry without a lick of sense about it. Internships can be fun and almost comical, but sometimes they put a load of expectations on green engineers to some how save the world. At least that is how it feels. And though we work long hours, ask many questions, and fearfully voice all concerns, we still end up feeling menial. College never prepared us for this. College never handed me a back bone with a big bag of confidence to dip into whenever I felt like I was the dumbest person in the room. College gave me just enough to get my feet wet. That doesn’t do me much good when I feel like I need to be swimming the mile.

With all that said I am fortunate to have family, both biological and my Brookie family, a super loving boy friend, and work place that really does care about my success as a student and engineer. I know that if it wasn’t for all that support, I wouldn’t be where I am today, but at the end of the day it is up to me to decide if I am having a bad day, good day, or a learning day.

This Monday was a bad day. I decided I wasn’t going to ask questions, I wasn’t going to try, I wasn’t going to say good morning to my coworkers, and that sad country was the only suitable playlist worth playing.

Jake, my other half, had just left the day before. My heart longs to be with him, as he is truly my best friend and hearts purest desire. When he left, a lot of my energy went with him. I woke up Monday feeling like an empty vessel. The high dry deserts of Mojave had more to offer for enthusiasm than did myself. Hang my head as the desert sun makes most flowers do and go rejoin my place in my cubicle crunching numbers. Today will be an absolutely awful day.

On Saturday, Jake and I were in L.A. and we decided to get a chocolate covered caramel apple. We never ate it. It sat on my counter untouched still in it’s elegant little box. Everyday I come home from Scaled Composites for my lunch break. It is a good chance to relax and regroup. Today, that chocolate covered caramel apple couldn’t have been placed ever more conveniently. I ate a portion and froze it to save the rest for Jake. I can’t wait for us to be laughing and talking about our day as we share this in the near future.

I don’t know what it is about a chocolate covered caramel apple that can help you turn a bad day around. Or maybe it’s the thought of knowing that there is someone back home that believes in you, that you’re a part of a fellowship that wants nothing less than success for you. They’re like my chocolate covered caramel apples. It makes all the distance and trials worth it. They are worth trying for because they want to celebrate YOU.

Everyday I promise to look in the mirror and tell myself I am going to try my hardest and that is enough. I will tell myself that growth will come from exposure and it’s ok if the environment is less than pleasant. Just because the sun hides behind clouds sometimes doesn’t mean plants won’t prosper. Diligence. Diligence. Diligence. It will pay off. There’s a chocolate covered caramel apple at the end!


Making Dreams Come True

Luck or God, I am thankful.

Around the age of 4 I discovered that I liked art. A lot. I also discovered I liked to make stuff, like “food” and “toys”.

Around the age of 6 I discovered that I was in love with the night sky. I wanted to touch the stars. I also think hamsters are cute.

Around the age of 11 I discovered that I wanted to try sports and join choir just because my friends were doing it. By age 14 I discovered that doing what my friends do doesn’t always make me happiest.

Around the age of 16 I discovered that you can be artistic and a bit nerdy. I entered art shows and was holding down a 4.5 GPA.

Around the age of 18 I discovered I didn’t get accepted to my dream university Harvard, but realized that Virgil “Gus” Grissom didn’t need Harvard to make his dreams come true. Hail Purdue!

Around the age of 19 I discovered that a large university was not in the stars for me, rather an extension campus closer to home was. I worried about this move.

Around the age of 20 I discovered the taste of flight in a jet. I wanted more of this after my study abroad to Germany, so I began pursuing my private pilots license.

Around the age of 21 I discovered that I was selected as a Brooke Owens Fellowship girl, and I would be working with scaled composites. My heart is so full.


My life has been through a lot, and I have seen a lot. Between these years of discoveries, were a lot of dead end paths and distractions that pulled me away from my hearts truest desires, of which had yet to be discovered. From the little errors of taking advice from bitter adults, to the big detriments like my mother and her addictions, I always seemed to find my way back to what made my heart smile. The universe in its entirety, being breathed in and out of my lungs, every second of every day since August 19th, 1996. After hard days at school or days that I simply felt worthless, I’d look up at the sky and imagine looking back from where I was currently looking. There is so much to look forward to.

Year after year in college, I will attend the huge university wide engineering career fair. The lines for any of the aerospace companies will spiral and snake their way around the tables and booths of lesser known engineering companies. I always look at these students and think, what is it that they have that I don’t? I want to have what they have so I can be in an aerospace community. As I would be thinking these thoughts, a Cessna 172 would fly final over the thousands of students and it would feel like everything stopped and all the chatter had died. I would always admire and smile at the buzz of its engine. Until I felt someone brush past me or someone ask if I was waiting in line. This is when I noticed not a soul was looking up. I am competing in the wrong race, there has to be a competition more suitable for individuals that are strictly fueled by passion for this stuff.

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I introduce you to the Brooke Owens Fellowship (BOF).

As a blogger, I enjoy reading other bloggers work. Sometimes I’ll find myself clicking through bloggers sites like people do when they’re going through their friends on Facebook. I started down the rabbit hole after applying to Ball Aerospace, as I’m sure thousands of other students just like my self according to a simple resume have already done, for a summer internship opportunity. This would have been my third time applying to ball, expecting another email saying they regretfully can’t offer me a position, and to apply again. This is about how every intern job I apply for seems to go. It’s easy for a student to expect the less than satisfactory result when they only ever get denial. I must admit, after every email from various companies telling me that I won’t be offered a job, I look at how I can improve. From my resume, to how I spend my time outside of class, I had to become something else other than who I was. So I thought.

After wrapping up my applications for the night, I started looking at a flight schools blog, where instructors talked about all sorts of aviation related topics. I looked at featured students, and I noticed that there was a majority of men pursuing their privates pilots license. Then I saw a young woman. I clicked her story and read about her recent solo and it provided a link to her blog project she was doing for the summer. This is where I read about her being a Brooke Owens Fellow. I was impressed with her drive, her love of aviation, and great blog skills. I decided to look into the Brooke Owens Fellowship just to see for myself.

I went straight to the Brooke Owens Fellowship web page. The first thing I read was, “paid internships and executive mentor-ship for exceptional undergraduate women in aerospace”. Cool, this sounds like me. What does this mean though for me? It means that I won’t simply be given an aerospace job because I am a woman, but it means that I will have been given an opportunity to rise up in a male dominated field. Super cool. Who is Brooke Owens exactly? A woman who came from a small town who had dreams and goals that came true with her passions and shear determination. She, like myself, also loved helping the humanities and giving back to the earth we all share as humans. Not only were these attributes similar to mine, but she was also a person who loved aviation every bit as much as aerospace. She too was a pilot. The heart of a pilot is about as passionate as they come. This is when I knew that this was the program that I needed to pour my energy in.

I immediately started working on my essay prompts, mind map drawing, and my aviation video (I talked about airplane safety with my AWESOME boyfriend Jake). This was finally a race worth running. While I was focusing most of my energy on this fellowship opportunity, I knew that nothing is for certain, regardless of how strong your gut says this is for you. I had gotten a call from a company called Gentex, a “smart” car-mirror manufacturer, in Michigan. They wanted to have an interview with me for a summer internship. As my dad drove me up to Michigan, I was working on my mind map drawing. I probably should have been focusing on my upcoming interview, but I couldn’t shut off the drive to pour my efforts into the BOF application. The interview with Gentex went alright. Although, I think I messed up when they showed me the assembly line where I’d be working on PLC’s most of the time. My face had to show nothing but dread, no matter how hard I tried to hide it.


This is a picture of the Mind Map that I submitted. This mind map not only showed the judges an overall picture of who I am, but it helped my mind get out of the one track thinking that typical internship applications make you get in (GPA, work experience, credits, etc.). The Mind Map was like an exercise for my brain to start accessing all the things that make me, me. – you can go to this link to find out even more for yourself about BOF.

I decided to write this blog post to not just promote the Brooke Owens Fellowship, but to talk about how important it is to never lose yourself. Being true to who you are will ensure you end up where you can reach your fullest potentials. It’d be pretty hard for a muscle car to compete with a Ferrari, but that doesn’t make it a wonderful car. I know I qualified for this fellowship because I vulnerably displayed everything I am. I am sure other young women applying did the same thing, and I am not sure what exactly helped me make the cut, other than being myself in my element. I hope that somewhere and somehow, someone who needs to be lifted up reads this and realizes that being themselves will get them further than any resume ever will. This summer will be filled with a lot more self discovering and friendship growth. This summer, more than work experience will be gained. I am so proud to be part of this fellowship to honor Brooke Owens. I am also proud to be a future employee of Scaled Composites in Mojave, CA this summer. It’s almost comical now to look back at all the long hours put into all the other internship applications, and the feelings of defeat. Now I see why it didn’t work out with anyone else. ♥





Priming For the Tie That Binds

The Hearts Way of Saying, “I love You”.

Say, helping me move ~1,000 miles away from home while I was sick, staying in a sleazy motel, buying my groceries, doing my laundry, rubbing my back. What does that make us?

Yes you are my mate nonetheless, you are my boyfriend. A friend first and foremost who I happen to enjoy particularly well. Don’t get yourself confused with being a boyfriend though. I’ve had boyfriends, and they were always a boy first. At some point as of recent, you became something more than all of the above. You became reality.

When I was a little  girl, I always said no one would ever love me or want to be with me forever. I was so scared of being alone, so when a boy would pay attention to me, I felt like I was worth something. Worth does not come from physical touch or dates. It comes from showing sincere love. It comes from truly making yourself equal with someone. To find someone who not just makes you feel loved, but makes you feel worthy, you begin to etch as a permanent part of yourself.

I recently had a job opportunity that required me to move to Texas from Indiana. To no surprise, my wonderful SO, Jake, readily began planning to help me drive down and get settled. I came down with a horrible viral flu the day before I was due to leave. On top of preparing for the trip to leave, I had several phone interviews lined up to take place during the trip down to Texas. Honestly, I felt overwhelmed for I had not the energy to do everything I needed. Jake made up for every part of me that was missing. When I needed help with dishes, or going to the store, he was there. My family dog Ringo passed away Christmas Eve, 2 weeks before I was due to leave. (This is the dog on my blogs banner). Jake was there to help during the process of putting him down. He was there to make me feel as at peace as possible through and through.

After I got moved into my new apartment and had the weekend with Jake, he left to fly back home. It was on a Monday, my first day of a new job. My last physical touch with him was a hug and a kiss in front of the apartments. That was only a week ago. It feels as though that was an eternity ago. I realized this while cleaning my apartment. In this realization that it was only such a short time ago, it made me realize how much his worth is really worth to me. I never have questioned my love for him or wondered if we are good together. It’s just like coffee. How much is coffee worth to you in the morning? In the morning coffee is equivalent to the need for the next breath of oxygen for many of us. Just because the worth of coffee is high in the morning, does not mean we go all day worshiping the thought of coffee. That is because we know it will be there again in the morning, black and steaming hot.

As I was organizing my laundry, I realized the one thing my homey apartment was missing. My person. This is more than just the heart growing fonder. This is realizing the value of one and understanding how rich I am because of him. How wonderful indeed. In fact this is me just understanding what this sort of love means. It is the stepping stones to an ultimate devotion. He gives me time and I will find my way back to him, putting us near to the tie that binds.

A poem to my world, the one who makes me feel as wonderful as the stars with universe as her audience.

Thank you Jake


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Eyes Turned Skyward

Risking the Fall Just to Learn How to Fly

This life has brought a host of experiences; from choosing a college, blundering fools for dates, and changing my entire lifestyle completely. All of these things have shaped me in some way or another. Like one day I went to a professors office hours to ask for help. He looked at me and said, “you get D in class”. This experience definitely contributed to my decision to switch colleges. Another example, I dated a nice guy when I was younger, but he got into the habit of standing me up. I let it happen approximately 20 times (I was 16 and in looove). Well, now if I am even remotely close to being stood up, I forfeit any future dating with that guy.  Regarding my life style, the point that showed an obvious change was needed was when I would go shopping and be absolutely dissatisfied with what I saw in the mirror. I wanted to change my looks. That led to years of bad dieting that didn’t work. Eventually I adopted a lifestyle that centered around just feeling my best, and in turn have slowly grown into a decently rockin bod. It’s stronger than I ever imagined it’d be, that’s for sure… Oh, but then there’s my favorite example. A study abroad trip to Europe. How it has changed my life, inside and out, as well as the way I view love and passion in all it’s complex glories.

In the spring I went on a study abroad trip to Germany, Czech, and The Netherlands through Purdue University. This trip was comprised of other students selected from the other Purdue extension campuses. There was one other student going from my campus, but I had never met him. The only reason I went on this trip was because they needed one other girl to go (there was only one other girl whom needed a roommate), and Purdue offered a scholarship. I had never flown in a jet before, so I had to get a passport put together, extra money, and still concentrate on classes, all in just a couple short months. I was excited none the less.

To be honest, I was filled with the most bitter mix of emotions regarding the trip the day I left home for the airport. I threw a fit, cried, said I wasn’t going… I wasn’t scared of flying (I love aviation), I was scared of the people. I was scared I wouldn’t fit in, and be stuck with a group of people who wouldn’t include me. I arrived to the airport in a big over-sized sweatshirt (that way I could hide in it like a turtle I guess was my thinking), nerdy  glasses, and my luggage. Meeting my group at the gate was nerve racking. I was the last one to show up, and I made certain to portray myself as having it all together. Everyone introduced themselves to me one by one and I forgot their names as soon as they told me. I was really a wreck on the inside with emotional turmoil. Little did I know, this group would become very close friends of mine in less than 48 hours. Little did I know, in less than 72 hours I would, well you’ll have to just read it for yourself…

When we were waiting to board the plane everyone was noting their feelings towards travel, past flights, and other air port stories. The other guy who went to my campus, named Jake, was abounding with excitement for the whole trip and it’s entirety. Or maybe he was just entirely excited about flying. He briefed me that his mother worked for Delta Airlines and he has loved aviation since he was a little boy. He explained to me how the whole commercial plane thing worked since I had no idea, but, as we were boarding the plane, he said he was excited for me. He said he couldn’t wait to hear what I thought after our flight from Indianapolis to Washington airport. All the worry and sickness left my stomach.

I was lucky enough to have a window seat on both flights. I had to sit next to a really old, ancient scented, man on the first 1 hour flight to Washington. He was kind and was shocked to hear that it was my first time flying, all the way to another country. The things I remember most about that trip was going down the run way and quickly looking up at the sky, observing it get a deeper and deeper shade of blue. Looking down at earth was alright, but looking up seemed to make it that much more real for me. I was not scared, but excited, in love with being high. After we landed, I felt pretty strange from it all. My ears and throat were soar and my head felt like a ball balanced on a pin. I was ready to get on the big boy plane to take me to Germany. Of course, everyone asked me what I thought of my first time flying… and I wanted to act reserved, so I said, it was alright.

The Boeing 777; XL twin turbofan engine jet made for traveling over 8,000 nautical miles, capacity: near 400 passengers. Three rows of 3 seats. This plane is it.

4,000 miles out from Germany, I was 10,668 meters in the air, flying at 613 mph. I watched the little map on the back of the seat in front of me the entire time. I’d get a little excited with altitude changes. What could bring me down at this rate? (As I was thinking this, there was a little virus making the move on my system that I would soon feel on my third day in Munich, losing my voice entirely). I sat next to another trip mate on the flight, Ben. I was so nervous to even attempt sleeping before anyone. Snoring, or looking half dead probably doesn’t make for a real cute impression. To sleep, I folded the table down and slept on that. I did not suffer from jet lag surprisingly. I could see Jake was a row behind me and one aisle over. He was reading a book the whole time. Cool calm and collected. How I envied that calm. I was bursting with infatuation for flying on this air worthy jet. If I wasn’t people watching, I was looking at the sky. How deep it looked, like if we climbed a few more feet, we’d be riding the mesosphere. While I will not go into all the good times experienced while in Europe, I will share some developing feelings that really thicken the plot to a simple study abroad trip.

May 13th we actually arrived to Germany. May 14th was a lot of exploring and getting to know my group VERY well. Boots of bier makes anyone a good friend I guess you could assume. May 15th, Ben, Jake, and myself went on a self guided adventure via u-bahn to check out a local grocery store outside of the main hub of Munich.
 I got to know Jake and Ben a little more personally this way. May 16th was the last hoo-rah for us in the city of Munich before departing for Prague. My back was in horrible pain (walking ~10 miles a day on old shoes), all I wanted was a good massage and rest. Well, Jake took me to get my first real Moscow mule and have deep discussion over life in general. That will forever be my favorite mixed drink. I found we had much in common, in the way we viewed the trip as a short escape from our reality back home to simply listening to Dwight Yokam. Just like that Moscow mule, things were mixing just right for us.

Jake wanted to become a commercial airline pilot. That was his dream, his goal, and the forefront of his thoughts. This deer hunting, country music listening, boy wanted to fly planes for a living. I wanted him to fly every bit as bad. You see someone light up when they talk about their passion, and you just want to see them submerge in it entirely. Something about that boy loving planes, made me love his dreams every bit as much.


Europe was a great learning experience about culture, business, and feelings. I had a s/o back home that made the trip less than easy. I did suffer culture shock pretty harshly sometimes, like when I went to the Czech Republic. A touristy place filled with an oddly familiar bitterness and turmoil by the elder Czechoslovakians.


There were times I felt scared or even angry.





I tried to reach out to home nearly 5,000 miles away, but I got shut down. I got put down. I got told to put up with it. I got hurt more and more. I naturally leaned on the one person who made me feel safe from the start, and I am filled with gratitude for that. It was nothing like falling in love. It was like ascending in a plane. Reaching the altitude in which you wish to fly, trimming it out perfectly, and someone telling you to bring it right back down. Instantaneously. That is how my trip ended with Jake. It was 2 weeks of high flying you could say. Although, I flew home from Washington to Indianapolis a lot more confident than I was 2 weeks before. My heart had change, as well as a realization of what I deserved, and needed to feel optimal in life. I could envision what I’d like to be happy.

Returning home was sweet but tinged with sadness. I was filled with an everlasting love of flying though. I was ready to take to the sky again. Going to Europe showed me that I am alright in solitude. There is no body anywhere on this earth that I need in order to be complete, and with that said, there is no single human on this earth that can take anything away from me. All too often I let people mar my life with thoughtless words and actions. All too often I find myself asking how I can do more to please others. Europe showed me that the world is just that, the world. The earth is meant to be toured and the best way to do it is by plane I say. So I took to the sky.

I thought of Jake often after the trip. I had hoped that following our many of long talks in Europe, he felt my yearning to see him fly and would do just that. As Amelia Earhart said, “The most effective way to do it, is to do it”. He did it too, and quickly. I’d like to think that I said something that made him feel air worthy himself in signing up for the lessons. I could see it in him from the first time I met him. I went into engineering for aeronautics, my dream is to work in the space program for NASA. In a way I want to fly too. Just in the exosphere that is. His passions about his goals got me thinking about mine. I wanted to feel like it was okay to be that passionate about something. Not all astronauts are pilots, but it sure helps. (From NASA’s mouth). It almost seems uncanny. It’s like I saw someone want to do something so bad, and I wanted to see them follow through with that dream just to see it be done. It gave me the courage too. For once, I felt so encouraged. I am very much encouraged.

Currently I am pursuing my private pilots license, the idea of flying a jet sounds absolutely amazing, and I will take that offer if it comes down the road for me to do so. Contentment comes with being able to proudly do something that is for you and you alone.

Over the summer, the Europe group stayed in contact, sharing stories, memories, and occasional drunk messages. Forever I will cherish these people. They were all so good to me. As summer came to a close, my 21st birthday fell on the last Saturday before the fall semester started up. Oddly enough, Jake suggested we all meet up for my birthday at a German restaurant downtown. I got to reconnect that night with what felt like an old dear friend. All the emotions, comfort, and warmth – still vivacious. He gave me a book for my birthday. Skyfaring by Mark Vanhoenacker. He said it was one of his favorite books. I opened it up even though I could feel tears just welling up inside of me, and there was a picture of the two of us in Europe. On the inside he wrote, ” I can’t wait for the day we are flying together again”. Same here, and something tells me that next time will be soon.

This is My Journey With a Pilot





Persimmon Pudding Recipe; Fruit of the Family Tree

Food connects us with loved ones and helps us open our hearts to our heritage.

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Summer is a great time to start new projects (or finish up ones from last year), find new hobbies, or reconnect with friends and family. With the kids out of school, families are traveling and taking time out to have a good time together. Except for business owners in the HVAC industry. Air conditioners never stop breaking down, and people never stop calling. (Like 8 p.m. on a Sunday night type of never stop calling). It keeps you busy and on the go all the time. I know this since I work with my dad part time as a technician. Sometimes though, it is necessary to make time for yourself.

My dad wanted to take a weekend trip to Southern Indiana to visit some family from his mother’s side (who passed when I was a baby). Taking time to see family and visualize where your heritage lies is important. In fact, after this weekend getaway, I feel connected to my past that runs a lot deeper. My roots start in a small town in The Hoosier National Forest known as Valeene. “God’s Country”, they call it. The way of life is different here. My dad told me stories of playing in the Patoka creek in the summer, and getting a pickle from a wooden barrel at the small grocery store. You can go for miles, from town to town, and only pass a couple gas stations. Although it might seem desolate on the open roads, zooming though the rolling hills, it is nothing short of welcoming inside these southern homes. I was so inspired by my family’s heritage (I will talk more about after the recipe), I did a little archiving.

Look at this from the Indianapolis Star in 1971:


Valeene is not a place to be reckoned with.

When we arrived, Doris, my great aunt in-law, greeted my father and I with smiles and hugs. I greeted her with a Persimmon Pudding I had made with leftover pulp from last fall. Persimmon Pudding is one of those Southern things that is treated like a delicacy. My dad always keeps his eye peeled for persimmon trees around town (rare here in the North), and will bring my these bitter little fruits after a the falls first frost. He used to do this as a kid for his mom when he was a little boy he told me. He had an old Valeene cookbook with a couple really great Persimmon Pudding recipes in it. After making a dozen puddings myself, I have tweaked and formed my preferred Persimmon Pudding. I was a little nervous taking this to Southern Indiana though. Here is where the Persimmon Pudding began, the place where the best is to be had.

Doris cooked up a hardy meal of chicken and noodles, with her mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh garden tomatoes, homemade coleslaw, and her vinegarized cucumber slices. It was all a treat to me since I gave up my hardy southern cooking style about a year ago. Doris surprised us with homemade ice cream and fruit cocktail cake. I knew I had a sugar free detox diet to stick to, but this was less about indulgence in flavor, and more about indulgence in sharing meaningful food with family. I quickly grabbed a piece of my persimmon pudding to at least taste test it. I was delighted as I usually am. Then everyone else started taking bites, and everyone was very pleased. The texture was denoted as wonderfully smooth, and dense with a hardy persimmon flavor. I am sure my Southern family is no stranger when it comes to this delicious dessert, and I was so glad they were delighted with it. I was gasping over the fruit cocktail cake Doris had made. It was quite the remarkable dessert itself.

After our bellies were full, and the plates were cleared from the table, we sat around sharing recipes, gabbing over old times past, and the change of times. Doris gave me another Valeene cookbook to take back home. I’ve already read every recipe. It was so nice to share this experience with my family. I will always correlate persimmon pudding now with that warm feeling of being surrounded by good people. This might not be a sugar free recipe, (although you could make it so), this is the recipe I shared with my great aunt Doris and the others in the little far-away town of Valeene, Indiana.

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Left to Right: Second Cousin Cathy, great aunt in-law Doris, myself, father Rich Simpson


(As you can see I use my Valeene cook book quite often, as my grandmother and great grandmother had done so before myself (Notice my great grandmothers name “Grace Stroud” elegantly wrote))

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My recipe varies slightly from the one found in the Valeene cookbook.

Persimmon Pudding

Makes 12 servings (9×13 pan)


  • 2 ¼ c. persimmon pulp
  • 2 c. sugar
  • ¼ c. butter melted + an extra Tbs. or two for love 😉
  • 3 eggs, yolk and whites separated
  • 2 c. goat milk (you can use regular, but this is all I had on hand and it tastes great!)
  • 2 c. flour
  • 1 tsp. baking soda
  • 2 tsp. baking powder
  • 2 tsp. cinnamon
  • ½ tsp. nutmeg
  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract


I like to go ahead a beat the egg whites till they’re decently stiff, 2 min on high.

Mix together the dry ingredients, don’t worry about sifting, but go ahead if you must. I didn’t.

Mix in another LARGE bowl persimmon pulp, melted butter, egg yolks, and milk.

Mix the dry into the wet a little at a time, then fold in egg whites last. Pour into a greased and floured 9×13 baking dish. Bake at 360° for 45 minutes, or until a pick comes out with tacky crumbs on it. It is a pudding after all.

This pudding will look pretty in the oven, but it WILL DEFLATE. Don’t panic, that’s just how southerners like it. It’s not a crumby dessert like brownies or cake, it’s dense like fudge, but light like pudding.


A Closer Look Into the Story of My Awe-Inspiring Grandmother – Goldie (Stroud) Simpson

City life can be hectic, busy, and feel a bit congested sometimes. Many times, ideal vacations entail getting away from the hustle and bustle. Being in Southern Indiana made me feel like I had escaped my crazy life back in Anderson. Valeene was even more disconnected in the 1940’s when my grandmother Goldie (Stroud) Simpson was growing up there. It made me wonder though, why did she leave her family down south and start a new city life up north? I always figured my grandmother gave up her life in South to come work in the booming GM factories up North. This weekend trip shed some light on the subject, as I learned what a strong-willed woman my grandmother must have been.

I had only met my great aunt and second cousins when I was just a little girl, so my memory of them was faint at best. I remember “mooing” at the cows on the farm and crossing a little bridge on their driveway. The farm was originally home to my father’s grandmother and grandfather (where his mom grew up). Later, one of the boys took over the farm and lived there with his wife (my dad’s aunt in-law, Doris), making her my great aunt in-law. Doris (Free) Stroud still lives there today. The other faint memory I have is attending her husband’s funeral. This would have been my great uncle Wayne Stroud. I remember being so sad, because at the time of the funeral I was aware and remembered the time I had visited him as a very little girl, and riding in his truck in back country. Those memories have since passed my brain.

My dad would always remanence about how much he enjoyed weekend trips to southern Indiana as a kid with his mom and dad to visit his grandma, uncle Wayne, and aunt Doris. It appeared to me country life the way they had it was so much better. I learned though, in the 1930’s and 1940’s, it may not have been so great for women. My dad told me that his mom’s father was a mean old man. Goldie was the only daughter of 4 children. She spent her days working with her mother on the family farm doing house chores. You can imagine the loads of laundry a bunch of farm boys would make. Once she reached high school age (16), she was told to drop out of school and help at home full-time. While she would work long and hard days, the boys would get away with goofing around and taking day trips to the city of Paoli. The little house in the country on 140 acres of farm land that I thought was simply quaint, was a place of desolation for my grandmother. The house had a little well at the bottom of the hill where they got their water, and an outhouse for the bathroom. Who could blame her for making a run for it?

She took a chance and moved to Anderson, Indiana to work in the GM factories. Her father disapproved of her leaving, and he let her know it for the rest of her life. He never gave her a welcome when she’d come to visit, and even acted bitter towards her children, his own grandchildren. When he died, he left her nothing. Her mother was always kind and empathetic. She’d always do what she could to make right her husband’s wrong doings. Goldie met my grandfather, Paul Simpson who passed before I was born, and had four boys. In Goldie’s father’s eyes, Paul was a no-good city boy, but Paul treated her with love and respect.

She was regarded as a home maker, but she is more than that to me. In a time when women weren’t encouraged to think for themselves, she did, and I praise her for her courage. She beat two types of cancer when the doctors said she wouldn’t. She also raised my father, who is a mighty great father because of her. I know now where my resilience and drive stems from. I hope to live a life she’d be proud of. I am a survivor, just as she was. Just as her story is in my heart.


My Beginnings; Aspiration After Aspiration

Children aren’t irrational, the
world is…

Children are simple. Simply complex with beautiful fragile minds. Just as we always feel pity for helpless animals, I feel an inclination to take extra care with children too. Unlike animals, children can’t always preserve the sort of innocence and dependency as animals do. We expect them to grow up, pay taxes, and raise children themselves someday just like the rest of us. Most children don’t even think about this phenomenon at a young age. Most children never think about being done wrong or intentionally hurt. Of course, there’s always some that do, like myself.

I came into this world with an alcoholic and drug addict as a mother. No number of cute giggles, amount of baby’s breath, or crocodile tears was going to persuade her to change her ways. I was the last of four children she brought into this world. The three before me are of a different father, who has since passed. I was, and am still, very fortunate to have a spiritual father that has pushed me in every aspect of my life. His goofy quirks like singing silly songs, or cooking bacon and eggs every Saturday morning, let me live out a happy childhood. My mother and father finally split when I was around 13 years of age. By this time, I had come accustomed to life giving liberally handing out lemons. Shortcomings were something I just assumed happened in most situations, and I was prepared for anything life had to throw at me.

As a little kid, I was very observant. I took notice of everything that went on around me. I would analyze things, and take them apart to understand how they worked. I didn’t just pull the tape out of cassettes for fun. It started with me looking at the wheels and wanting to get a better look at the whole mechanism. Oddly though, when I started school, I struggled academically. My mind couldn’t focus in on tasks and executing what I was told to do. Eventually I got better at this and learned how to be task oriented. When I went on to middle school, I struggled with math. I was always angry, moody, and sometimes down right depressed. The last thing on my mind was pre-algebra. I found more pleasure in being a free wild spirit. Heaven forbid someone suggest I sit down and study for an hour. I rather be consumed by the drama, and be a headache to some of my teachers. This isn’t an odd way for children to behave, especially for kids with a troubling background.

It all changed luckily. I went in with the same attitude of “screw it”. Dropping out did not sound like such a bad thing to me, for I knew that the world sometimes cradles individuals that faltered in life. I saw it all the time with my mother. She never seemed to reap any consequences for her actions. I knew it was unfair, but I had no real intentions of being much better. That was until my first day of 9th grade algebra. I had a teacher who told us, “Today you make the decision to do it right. Take AP dual credit classes now. Don’t wait till 10th grade to get with the program. Desire to achieve beyond all expectations today”. Those words were a wake-up call to me. For some reason, they resonated. I didn’t want to get into 10th grade, falling short in required credits to graduate. For once I felt scared, but hopeful, and in control of my future. I decided then, I wanted to have a future of endless possibilities. I cleaned up my act and attitude. I began to respect others, and in turn, found how to fully respect myself. I didn’t feel such a need to be the center of attention.

By my senior year of high school, I had 37 AP credits, a 4.6 GPA, and a bunch of dreams considered unattainable. I had been flying through high school with straight A’s and finding success in every venture I took until approximately 3 months prior to graduation. I had held valedictorian all through my high school career. The vice principal informed me that they decided to count 8th grade mathematics for high school credit. The same class I couldn’t care less about. This kicked me back to 3rd. There were several girls in high school that had a bit of a vengeance against me because I would always hold the pole position. I didn’t really care too much about what the rank was, but I was applying to colleges like University of Chicago, North West University, and Harvard. I wanted that rank to prove I could do it. With a class of over 400 people, I worked my hardest to obtain it. I told myself I wouldn’t settle for less than Ivy league or at least something close. I felt like I deserved it, but those schools didn’t think the same.

This blow was the first big blow I encountered and had to swallow since I was a little girl. It reminded me how unfair life can be. I have always loved art, as it was an outlet for me to be free. I feel like that is my true calling, to create beautiful products from my own troubled heart. I knew that in high school. That is why I applied to The Chicago Institute of Art along with all the Ivy Leagues. I was accepted with a good scholarship into their Interior Design program. I decided to pursue engineering by the time I received my notification of my acceptance to this prestigious art school. I knew I was good at math and science, but there’s a bit of a darker reason I chose this path. I would sit in the calculus room during lunches and study during my senior year. One day, a representative from the Indianapolis art institute came in to speak with the teacher about providing information regarding the art school to the students. He brushed her off and told her to come in during his remedial math class. “I’d be happy if those kids did anything with their life. Art school would be better than them being delinquents”, he said. That was when I decided, I won’t go to art school.

I muddled with a college selection all summer. I was considering Pepperdine for economics, and Worcester Polytechnic Institute in Massachusetts. Both were going to cost a lot of money, and I knew I had a full ride to any Indiana state school. I realized by about July that I messed up. I made a last second scrambled and applied to Purdue University as Exploratory Studies. It wasn’t a matter of choice; the engineering school was filled up. The collegiate experience, I will leave for another blog. It has a whole host of other life lessons. I eventually switched schools. Guessing I reapplied to art school, right? Well wrong, I decided to pursue Mechatronics Engineering at Purdue Polytechnic Anderson. I found a happy place with a promising future.

The take away here is, I was once a child. I could dream and push and SUCCEEDE. Not all the time though. I set myself on a path of success just to see myself pile on more bigger and better dreams. My dreams were pure and untouched by negativity, even though I came from such a scary past. My grit, the drive to become my best, came from a few positive motivating words. A life time of hurt didn’t keep me from pursuing my full potential. A few words though were enough to make me question my true talents and the opportunity to hone in on my best skill sets. Children are fragile, but they are equipped with the ability to heal. I wish the Courtney in 2nd grade would have been sitting in that calculus room during lunch my senior year. When the teacher made the remark about art school being for dead enders, I wouldn’t have even digested those words.

Although it is easy to think that way, I have developed new dreams and goals around my reality. I hope to work in the aviation field someday. I would love to work with a company like Airbus or Boeing, but my dreams don’t stop there. I have always loved the stars. I hope to be a part of Space Exploration in some way or another. I’d never turn down the opportunity to engineer for NASA or float around up in space. I went to Spring Mill State Park during my weekend getaway. I had to stop at the Gus Grissom Museum. He was a graduate of Purdue University in Mechatronics Engineering, and flew up in space on the Gemini III, Molly Brown. That was his most famous voyage. This ship, along with his suit was on display in this little museum. I asked myself if I could climb into this tiny capsule and put my faith into a tin can. Of course, I know I could. I’ll shoot for the moon, and even a new universe, and I’ll get there. A little tin can (and a lot of fuel) got Gus Grissom out of earth’s atmosphere and back home safely. That was just one of several successful voyages. I think my faith in my own voyage will take me even further.


Reality Check on Meal Prepping

Spend Your Sunday Afternoon Prepping Your Internal Power

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Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How the heck does anyone like MEAL PREPPING?!

So let’s first answer those question.

Who is meal prepping? Just about every fitness guru on Instagram. Being honest, if we get on social media and notice what “athletes” or photogenic gym fanatics are posting, it is typically a marketing call to action, a photo of them endorsing a supplement or clothing line, or their weekly meal prep. That meal prep includes: 4 broiled salmon filets, 3 baked chicken breast, 12 oz. of grilled asparagus, 12 oz. of broccoli, and 20 oz. of brown rice. Of course all this stowed away in cute little meal prepping boxes and ready for the freezer… Also, I am a gym fanatic. I am a personal trainer, and I also love life.

Alright, what, by definition, is meal prepping? Well, here it is according to… “in a nut shell is the act of preparing food in advance to stick within a certain diet/mealplan/schedule, etc.”Meal Prep” can also be defined as preparing and seasoning meats (or any other proteins) in advance, as well as washing and drying of certain fruits, vegetables and/or snacks.” By definition it sounds alright to me. I myself follow this sort of ideology. Although, points out that “Depending on your meal prep planning, it is possible that you may eat the same thing every day for an entire week when you meal prep.” Which if you are looking at main stream social media, and follow what the trendy fitness models are doing, you will probably be experiencing NO variety when it comes to what’s IN the box.

When do you meal prep? Many of these insta-famous icons are doing their prep on #mealprepsunday. Typically it is a once a week ordeal where the kitchen becomes an overload of dirty pans, Tupperware lids flying around, and a sore back.

Where do you meal prep? The kitchen. No where else. Go slave over stove…

The golden question: Why would one meal prep? The internet told us it works. The little meal prep trays are cute. We want to have 12 of the same meals all lined up in orderly rows and columns just to take a picture of it and post it on our own instagram. Oh look, I’m up to 12 likes on this post. I’m not saying people do it for likes, but it is the trend, and we want to do whatever beautiful people are doing. Just with any fad diet, they come and go. Meal prepping is a great concept. Some people meal prep identically to the way a professional body builder shows they meal prep on their social media account. It is something that works for them, but may not work for everyone, and most likely won’t work for a lot of people.

How do you meal prep and like it? I cannot answer the later part of this question in regards to conventional meal prepping. First set aside the time. A meal prep session where you prepare meals for 5 days may take 60 – 180 minutes, according to That is just in kitchen time. Don’t for get about the fun shopping trips where the 4 broiled salmon filets, 3 baked chicken breast, 12 oz. of grilled asparagus, 12 oz. of broccoli, and 20 oz. of brown rice will be bought. Oh look, country style pork ribs are on sale… That trout looks mighty tasty. I could go for shaved turkey, but maybe tomorrow I’ll want turkey meat balls on a whole wheat hoagie. Oh wait, never mind, I’ll be eating salmon with asparagus for the next 7 days. I am sure the point is understood.

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That looks painfully difficult, as well as physically and mentally exhausting. I am a cook-aholic, and the sight of this makes my skin crawl. Just in case someone who meal preps like this in the above photo is reading and thoroughly enjoys it as well is content with their way of eating, then that is just fine. Eating is a very personal and spiritual thing I believe. Eating should fuel our bodies, as well as make us feel happy and content. When I am sad nothing makes me feel better than a cup of tomato basil soup with my almond motz biscuits. When I am feeling bouncy and happy, I can almost always go for a tuna salad sandwich, or even a whole baked chicken! (I wont eat the whole thing… promise- my dogs help me)

The purpose of this article isn’t to persuade you to give up meal prepping, or think that meal prepping is wrong. The purpose is to show the advantages of swapping traditional meal prepping with a method that works for YOU. Take a second to really think about how you feel during the week. Is it one single emotion, one single energy level, one single predicted day/time that cravings will hit? I want us to become equipped with minds that can properly process all these varying factors, and not feel bummed because we felt inclined to cheat or less excited to eat chicken breast for the 4th day in a row. Instead of having this “bite the bullet” attitude about food, I have a very open and cognitive mind for what I feel, why I feel that way, and what that feeling is telling me I need. That may be sleep, journaling, yoga, or food. I used to struggle with binge eating. Just because I had 3oz. chicken breast, with some rice and an abundance of asparagus, did not mean I wasn’t going to stop by the vending machine to grab a bag of chips, or reach for a doughnut if they were out for the taking. I was still probably going to opt for a latte instead of a plain coffee and just mull over the food that I wanted to consume.

Between meditating, appreciating life, regular exercise (yoga, weights, cardio), being involved in activities I enjoyed, and finding a sense of peace but active recognition of my goal weight/health, I have been able to eat intuitively and fully love food. No grudges, no mulling over the cake I can’t eat, no fear of hating the meal I have to eat tomorrow, because I will eat what I want. Let’s rewire our brains, attitude, and ties to food and the way we view it.


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So Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How do you do a Courtney Simpson meal prep?

First though, I would like to share with you how I view food. It is where happiness begins. Food sustains life, and therefore should sustain happiness. Food should be created with thought and made out of love. It should play a role in creating a table worth of wholesome conversation and good company. It is not an enemy making us fat, or making our ailments worse. We must derive from food the healing benefits it can offer us in all aspects. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Who does a Courtney Simpson meal prep? Individuals whose diet is a way of life, and not some short term project. This is for people who are busy, but want to keep their health in check. They may have goals of gaining weight, losing weight, or simply maintaining their weight. Maybe it is nothing to do with weight. They could simply want to feel better all around. Required is the ability to see that we are complex humans with complex needs. Plants are happy with water and sunshine. As humans, we need a hosts of different forms of fuel.

What is this form of meal prepping? It’s what YOU make of it. It’s eating without restrictions other than the boundaries that YOU want. At the grocery store, when I am looking at food for dinner or lunch, I buy what looks good and fits in my nutritional needs. Here’s the trick. I buy extra. When it comes time for dinner, say I am having chicken, quinoa, and broccoli. I will cook approximately 2 extra chicken pieces, 2 cups of quinoa, and 1-2 cups of broccoli. I will freeze the 2 extra chicken pieces (I will explain my freezing method below in How To). I freeze what I know I can’t eat before it goes bad of the quinoa and broccoli. I freeze in snack size zip lock baggies in single portions so I can pull out what I need easily. Say tomorrow I have pork chops with green beans and red potato bites. I will do the same process here. I do this process on and on. I quickly have freezer full of meals and sides that I can mix and match at my leisure. This form of meal prepping allows you to mix and match a large variety of different foods for your lunch or dinner.

When is this meal prepping done? All the time, but in little increments of time. There will be some nights when we simply don’t have time to cook a dinner. That’s when your freezer or refrigerator full of different foods comes in handy. The last thing you want to see after a long day is a little predetermined meal that frankly is getting old. This also holds true when you DO have time to cook dinner. If you have the time to cook, take that time to connect with food. Create something tasty and rewarding in nutrients. That is the golden time of when the meal prepping is done. This is a time to be proud of what you’re cooking and feel inspired about what YOU are wanting and needing.

Where is this done? The kitchen, but not a hectic meal prepping kitchen. It might just be you cooking a typical meal for the kids. Maybe you have relatives over and your favorite cousin is over helping you put together an Italian inspired dinner. That food will be filled with good tastes, as well as good memories. That food means something so much more than a diet. It’s connecting with your emotional needs as a human as well. This meal prepping is done with the heart.

Why should someone adopt this meal prepping style? It will give you the power and control over what you eat. One things human dislike is confinement, and that includes what we eat. This fact is a good reason alone, but also you will discover that you’ll never lose 2-3 hours  in the kitchen of cooking and cleaning. I know the argument of traditional meal prepping is, “We meal prep so we wont pick out unhealthy lunches or too much to eat!”. That is a great way to think about eating, but the entire idea of this eating life style must be adopted. It can not be forced. If when we open our predetermined meal prepped lunch of 3 oz. grilled chicken and veggies with brown rice, we must not have this resentment of what we are eating. We must not be consumed with thinking about cravings for other food. I guarantee that people who perform traditional meal prep, find themselves always wanting more. If you are wanting ribs, cook up a delicious batch of country style ribs and enjoy them. I rather see myself eat an extra ounce or two of meat, or load up on too much baked sweet potatoes, than feeling stuck, feeling tired, and battling cravings that I find with traditional meal prep.

How to do a Courtney Style meal prep? As stated above, you cook dinner with about 3-4 extra servings, and freeze what you know you wont be eating within 3 days (or it will start to spoil). To freeze meats, wrap your meat FIRST with plastic wrap, THEN with tinfoil. For added protection you can add an extra layer of tin foil. Write on the tin foil what you cooked (turkey “ham” (it’s delicious I promise!)), and the date frozen (turkey ham 07/30). It will last just fine in the freezer about 3-6 months. Chicken tends to dry out a bit in the freezer, so I will put a little bit of the chicken juices, or water on my chicken before I wrap it all up. When it comes time to eating your frozen food, you can either set it out the night before to give a 12-24 hour thaw time, or you can use a microwave to defrost as you typically wood any frozen meal. I always sit mine out the day before. I like the way it taste when I let it thaw slowly. Do the same with the zip lock bags with your single servings if they are frozen. I almost always have a batch of quinoa in my fridge because I use it on EVERYTHING. Salads, fish, yogurt for a veggie dip, etc.


I will show you some of my meals I have put together, and quick recipes.


This is my simple lemon herb chicken with fresh fruits and veggies. This chicken is frozen, so I got this meal put together the day before. I was putting together a veggie tray for dinner the night before, so I went ahead and just threw a bunch of those veggies in my lunch box. The next day I had a yummy lunch all ready for me! I have currently gone fructose free and have forever fixed sugar cravings, but fruit is also a great option. I rather we all eat a handful of grapes than a butterfinger. Did someone say… butterfinger…? *drools*

Citrus Herb Chicken

Makes 4 servings


4 boneless, 1 serving size poultry pieces, (you can use chicken or turkey!)

2 citrus fruits (lemon, lime, tangerine) – I used lemon

coconut oil


2 Tbs. your favorite blend of herbs – I used pepper, sage, and Italian Herb Blend


Preheat oven to 375 °F.

Pound poultry to ¼ inch thick and lather on citrus juices. (You can do this step the day before and let it marinade for extra YUM)

Coat poultry lightly with coconut oil, then continue to sprinkle on salt and herb blend of your choice.

I like to place my chicken on a pan with a little wire rack so they aren’t swimming in their juices, but that is just my preference. To lock in moisture, you can wrap it in tinfoil and bake it like a baked potato as well.

Bake at 375 for 15 – 20 minutes depending on poultry size you are baking. My 4 oz sized breasts took about 18 minutes exactly on the lower rack in my oven.


You can get creative with your left overs. You don’t have to leave it as a whole piece. You can shred it, chop it, and cube it. Put atop salad, roll up in a flatbread, or mix with avocado, onions, and greek yogurt to make homemade chicken salad sandwich spread. 

Here are some more examples below:


In this meal prep, I made coconut butter, which I talked about making in my Sugar Free Zucchini Bread recipe. It’s simple: blend up a cup of coconut shavings in a food processor. I had to add a little coconut water (or you can use coconut milk), to get desired consistency. I put this on a wasa cracker  with a little bit of Joseph’s Maple syrup drizzled on top. Pure heaven! I love letting my taste-buds add passion to my healthy cooking!

Most of the time we want to eat when others are eating. It is a social thing that feeds are inner self. Break bread with your loved ones and enjoy their company. Share that commonality of tasting the same food, and relate to how wonderful the aftertaste is. Let yourself enjoy this. If you take time to make peace with food, understand what you need versus what you want, you will find eating to be a VERY enjoyable thing.