My Husband is More Stylish Than Me. And...

25th Jul, 2016

I have a confession. My husband, Rand, is more fashionable than me. This is contrary to everything that movies and television have taught me, where the female sex is supposed…

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The Mathematics of Churros, Valencia,...

30th Jun, 2016

  The proprietor stands behind the counter, eyeing us warily. “How many do you want?” he asks. Lisa and I look at each other. “Maybe twenty?” she offers tentatively.

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In the Wake of Tragedy, I Make Him...

13th Jun, 2016

    Yesterday, I left the house without kissing him goodbye. I thought I might wake him if I did that, and I wanted him to sleep, and to delay…

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An Open Letter to the Class Instructor...

9th Jun, 2016

Dear … um … Crap. I’ll be honest, I didn’t catch your name as it was shouted over your headset. Tamblynn? Is that even a real name? Or just a dehydration-induced…

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Stay on the Damn Path: A Lesson Learned...

7th Jun, 2016

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, that was well-trodden and safer and less likely to be the stomping ground of rabid…

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Predatory Hunt: Powerscourt Estate,...

2nd Jun, 2016

“Dear god,” I told him when I saw the photo. “I look positively predatory.” Rand laughed. “You do,” he agreed. “You look like you are hunting me.”

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In Austin, We Find Turtles and Forget to...

1st Jun, 2016

Rand has to be the grown-up most of the time. This is largely my fault. Last night he was trying to come up with dinner ideas and I suggested raw…

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Quitting Your Job To Travel Isn’t...

12th May, 2016

There is this idea that keeps coming up in the travel writing community, that quitting your job to travel the world is a profoundly brave thing. You aren’t settling for…

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New Orleans, Then and Now

10th May, 2016

Rand knows how much I hate change. He teases me about it, saying I’m the only die-hard liberal who gets angry when she has to alter her routine. “I don’t…

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