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Warning: Today’s post is all about me gushing over my husband. The jaded and cynical may want to skip it entirely, or possibly read it with a barf bucket at hand. Because holy cats, you guys: he’s really effing cute.

 

I can’t get over this shot. I think he looks so handsome:

 

This one, too:

 

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By popular demand, here are a few more scenes from St. Albans. (Tomorrow we’ll talk about South Africa and the Kloof some more. And then I’ll go back even further, to our Australia trip, and then … I have a lot to cover, folks. A lot. This blog NEVER ENDS. It is forever unfinished. It both haunts my dreams and is the reason I wake up in the morning (along with cake).

Cake in Spittlefields.

But I digress.)

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I’d seen London so many times before. But I don’t think it’s ever been as lovely as it was at the end of October.

 

I’ve heard it said that living in Seattle is like being married to a beautiful woman who’s sick all the time. And while that’s clever, it’s a little chauvinistic, isn’t it? So while I could use the same analogy to describe London, I’ve tweaked it a bit.

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I feel this is a rather critical piece of information that you should know before visiting D.C.: if you endeavor to take a selfie at the Washington Monument, the task will not be an easy one.

From a distance, it is incredibly easy to take some pretty fantastic photos of structure, especially if you are by the Lincoln Memorial and looking across the reflecting pool:

I mean, COME ON.

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This is a photo of me and Rand, at the Cape of Good Hope.

 

 

I like the way the wind picked up my hair. The gusts were so strong, we could barely stand straight.

There was a crowd of people waiting to pose with the sign, and we all had to take turns. We jumped in, took a few photos, and jumped out. When we kissed, a crowd of tourists cheered.

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We took a three-year-old to South Africa.

Actually, that’s not technically true. Our friends Sarah and Eric took their three-year-old to South Africa. It was our crazy idea to do it, and they listened to us. They listened to their childless friends about how it was a good – nay, GREAT – idea to take a toddler across two continents.

Look at these crazy, sleep-deprived kids.

 

(I’d like to think we kind of helped out by interrupting his nap time and feeding him snacks.)

Here are a few of my favorite Jack moments from South Africa.

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I’ve heard that when Anthony Bourdain first saw Angkor Wat, he stopped taking vacation photos. He realized that he couldn’t capture this place on film, and reasoned that there was no point. So he put his camera away and just enjoyed it.

That’s lovely and rather poetic, but let’s be fair: Bourdain has a film crew following him around, so it’s very easy for him not to take photos. If I had a film crew following me everywhere, I wouldn’t take many pictures, either. I’d probably stop picking my nose, too.

Just like fancy-pants Bourdain over there.

Here I am, attempting to look reverent and also NOT PICKING MY NOSE. #winning

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I have to tell you something.

I’m an absolute sucker for weddings. I basically turn into a squealing frenzy of crazy every time we find out we’re actually able to make it to a friend’s nuptials. It probably doesn’t take very much explaining to understand why.

 

If I got an email from a wedding, telling me it was a dethroned prince, and offering to share millions of dollars with me, I would IMMEDIATELY give it my bank account and routing numbers. That is how much I love weddings.

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