The Ignite Conference series is built around the following premise: “Enlighten us, but make it quick.” Speakers have 5 minutes and 20 slides (which auto-advance every 15 seconds) to tell a story. They can talk about virtually anything.

Last week’s presenters tackled a variety of topics. One man told the story of how he lost half his body weight. Another woman, who’d been on dates with more than 100 men, gave some tips on what you should and shouldn’t do when looking for love online (she was brilliant, and described some of her experiences as “as shit show”, a phrase which Rand and I have cheerfully adopted).

I was up last. I talked about Steve, and how I decided to share the news of him online. It was my first public speaking engagement (unless you count the time we were on Oprah.) It was the first time ever that I was on stage while Rand was in the audience.

After it was over, he tackled me with a hug, and told me how proud he was of me.

The whole experience was wonderful and nerve-wracking and worthwhile. I’ve solemnly sworn to never, ever do it again. We’ll see how long my resolve lasts.

You can watch the video of my presentation online, if you want. I’ve been told by several readers that my voice is higher pitched than they thought it would be (a by-product of my nerves, I assure you. I am normally not so squeaky).

It’s not the best presentation in the world, but I did my best. And Rand liked it. Really, I don’t think I could ask for more than that.

Yesterday, I went on safari. I giggled, and it startled an elephant.

I’m going to say that again, because it might be one of the greatest sentences of my life: I giggled, and IT STARTLED AN ELEPHANT.

There is a lot going on this week. We’re going to hike and kayak and explore and haggle and shop and eat candy bars that aren’t available in the states. But, sadly, there will not be a lot of blogging going on while I’m here (there will be a few Milwaukee posts going up sporadically, when I have a few moments and an internet connection).

I’m sorry. BUT THERE ARE PENGUINS. I can’t sit in front of my laptop while there are penguins walking around.

I promise, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. If you can’t wait that long for a fix, I will kindly direct you to the archives. There are three years of posts to meander through, if you haven’t already done so (but be warned: it takes me a few months of blogging before I hit my stride).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go hug a penguin. Not sure if that’s allowed, or what. But I’m gonna do it.

See you next week.

Why am I so obsessed with cake? BECAUSE CAKE.

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FAQ pages have always bothered me. They seem kind of lazy. Like, if someone goes through the trouble of sending you an email and asking you a question, the least you could do would be to answer them in kind, right?

That was before I started getting emails.

Holy cats. I can’t actually believe it, but after reading the unhinged and potentially litigious drivel on this site, people want to know more. They ask questions. Some of those questions are asked frequently.

And suddenly, just like that, FAQ pages made sense to me. I suppose they still are kind of lazy, though.

But you know what? I’m kind of lazy. So without further ado, here are some of the questions that I am frequently asked. Along with some answers, too.

(Warning: remember that scene in Lord of The Rings trilogy where Gollum starts fighting with himself? It gets kind of like that in the end.)

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How can I purchase advertising space on your site?

You must take part in an ancient ritual that involves you stripping naked and tango-dancing with an ill-tempered badger under a full moon (preferably during the autumnal equinox). Photographic evidence is required.

Naw, I’m just kidding. I don’t sell ad space.

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Do you accept freebies? (Sponsored trips, free promotional items, giveaways, etc.)

Nope. Taking free stuff makes me feel kinda weird (What if I hate it? How can you write something negative about something that was free? That’s just … rude). So I just avoid them all together lest I have a neurotic meltdown of Woody Allen-esque proportions.

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Hello! I am interested in writing a high-quality guest post for your site! All I require is two contextual links placed within the post.

You know that song from the sixties that starts with “No-no no no no no no-no-no no?” That is now playing in my head. Because no.

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I’m thinking of starting my own blog. Do you have any tips for beginners?

You can find my top tips for beginning bloggers right here. I cover mostly stylistic issues. If you need technical advice, I suggest you take a look at my husband’s post about how to set up a blog. And my friend Adam Costa also has an entire site dedicated to starting your own travel blog.

Can you please link to/review my blog and tell me what you think of it?

Sadly, no. I get a lot of requests like this, and I can’t honor them all. I’m sure your blog is awesome – you don’t need me telling you that it is. Just be you. Be what you’re like.

As far as my blogroll goes, I don’t link to very many people. And those who I do link to tend to be very close friends of mine. I hope you understand.

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What kind of camera do you use?

I find it weird that people actually want to know this. Perhaps they want to take-poorly composed, out-of-focus photos for themselves. And let’s be honest: you can do that with any old camera. But I mostly use a Canon Digital Rebel XSi with the one lens that came with it. Or sometimes I just use my camera phone.

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Who designed your site?

My site is a custom WordPress plug-in designed by Kimberly Coles. She is incredibly talented and fun to work with.

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Is your sense of direction really as bad as you say it is?

Nope. It’s far worse.

Does anybody remember where I left my car?

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What’s all this stuff about brain tumors?

This past June I had an MRI because I was getting terrible headaches. Turns out I had a 1-centimeter-long tumor on my hypothalamus, extending into my ventricle (weirdly, the docs say that my headaches were unrelated to the tumor. It was just a happy accident). Because of its location, they wouldn’t be able to remove all of the tumor with surgery. The docs biopsied it (removing about two-thirds of it) and found that it was a very slow-growing type of tumor, and it likely won’t give me any problems from here on out. But if it does, it can be treated with radiation. In the meantime, I’m just fine. (And if you want to read about a guy who’s really combating scary brain stuff with tons of humor, check out Chad’s blog.)

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I am considering quitting my job in order to travel the world. Is there anything I should know beforehand?

Just this: don’t quit your job. No, seriously. Unless you are independently wealthy or have some sort of trust fund, it is incredibly difficult and costly to travel around the world without health insurance or a steady income.

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Wait, isn’t that hypocritical? Didn’t you quit your job to travel the world?

Nope. I was laid-off. It sucked. I am lucky enough to have health insurance through my husband, and since most of our trips are business trips for him, we simply have to pay for my airplane ticket. If it wasn’t for him, there’s no way I could travel.

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Well, you must make some money from the site, right?

Nope. My site actually costs me money to maintain.

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But let’s say you did have ads. Surely you’d have enough money to live on?

No. And don’t call me Shirley.

Here’s the blunt truth: there is very little money in the sort of blogging I do. But if you do want to try your hand at monetizing a blog, my hubby says to check out Skyscrpr.

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Crap. But Rand gets to travel a lot for work, right? So what does he do for a living? Is that a career path that would be worth pursuing?

Rand works at a tech-company that he co-founded. He accumulated about $500k in debt over the course of a few years trying to get his startup off the ground (and instead of filing for bankruptcy, he paid it back). He now works about 80-hour weeks, and travels around the world speaking at events or meeting with people in his industry. He doesn’t sleep, he forgets to eat, and even as I type this, he’s on his way to the airport to go to a foreign country for less than 24-hours before turning back around and coming home.

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It doesn’t sound like you’d recommend his career path.

No, I don’t think I would. But it makes him happy, and that makes me happy.

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Can you at least give me some advice on freelancing?

Sure! For me, freelancing sucked. I worked the same hours that I did when I had an office job, for less money and zero benefits. Plus, I was constantly trying to line up more work for when my current gig came to an end. It’s stressful and not very secure work. Those who make a living doing it are far more disciplined and talented than I could ever hope to be.

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Gah. You are seriously lame. Can we talk about something else?

Absolutely.

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Can you give me some tips on my love life?

Yup! Marry the love of your life and everything will turn out fine. That’s what I did.

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That’s not particularly helpful.

No, I guess it’s not. Perhaps you shouldn’t ask travel bloggers for relationship advice.

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Okay, fine, jerk. I’ll ask you for travel advice. What’s the best thing to see in __________?

If you are looking for information about a specific city, do a search on the blog. If I haven’t blogged about it, I probably haven’t been there. And truth be told, I haven’t been to very many places compared to other travel writers out there. If you can’t find the information you are looking for on my blog, I suggest checking out Nomadic Matt’s site or Everything Everywhere (run by my pal Gary). They’re much more knowledgeable about travel and backpacking than I am.

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So, you’re basically a travel blogger who’s unqualified to talk about travel? Seriously?

Yup.

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What are you qualified to talk about, then?

Rand, mostly. And cake.

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Fine. Tell me about those things.

Both are awesome. And essential to my happiness. That’s about it.

And the second things get normal, I will post some new entries.

In the meantime, here’s another cute bunny photo to tide you over.

He's so adorable, I no longer care that my analytics aren't reporting right.

Thanks for your patience, folks.

It should be cleared up in the next day or so. Until then, bear with me. I still plan to post daily (and yes, I realize I owe you a WTF Wednesday. It will be up later this afternoon and I promise it will be worth the wait), and the site shouldn’t have any downtime between now and the new design going up, but some of that is out of my hands. I can assure you that if it does go down, I am aware of it, and my awesome developers are doing their best to fix it.

In the meantime, you’ll notice a few things might look a bit strange (like, for some reason, comments are no longer embedding), or that the new design will be live one minute, and then the old design will be back up the next minute.

It’s odd. It’s a little crazy. It’s frustrating. But I promise, it’s merely temporary. (At least, the frustrating part is temporary. The things that are crazy and odd will continue to be so, because that’s the appeal of this site)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have more cake. Because that is how I deal with stress. Hell, it’s how I deal with everything. 

Because life shouldn't be censored.

Hi folks,

I’m afraid I have to go and get all political on you. I’m truly sorry. You know how desperately I try not to be informed about, well, anything (for proof, please note the time I got Greenwich and North Greenwich mixed up. Or when I claimed that leprechauns were from Scotland.)

But this SOPA and PIPA business has me sincerely freaked out. If either of these bills pass, the implications for bloggers, website owners, small businesses, and internet start-ups are severe and scary. Sites can be taken down for merely linking to other sites that violate the terms of SOPA and PIPA. And there’s no opportunity for appeal.

So if I link to a site that’s selling really awful Louis Vuitton knock-offs (because I find it HILARIOUS) or I link to a clip of The Goonies that’s horrifically dubbed in Italian, I could get shutdown. Even if I’m not hosting the stuff. Even if I link to something else on those sites, something that itself has nothing to do with copyright infringement, I’m still at risk. I could lose my site just like that. It’s a scary thought.

Because the thing is, as much as I try to play it cool, I really like having a blog. And I’ve always had a little thing for the First Amendment.

And god knows how much I love bootleg clips of SNL’s Celebrity Jeopardy skits (sorry – I had to link to a legitimate site there, but you get my point).

So, because of my genuine belief that Congress shall make no law infringing on my right to link to whatever the hell I want, I am participating in the SOPA blackout (hence the messaging that you will see on the site on January 18th and 23rd). That means I won’t be posting on Wednesday.

Instead, I’ll be staring out my window at the falling snow, contemplating the importance of freedom and liberty in our ever-changing world, and coming up with twice as many fart jokes to tell you on Thursday.

It’s for a good cause. I hope you understand.

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What’s that? YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO SPEAK UP! (Also, I’m beginning to think that my secret crush on Neil deGrasse Tyson is not-so-secret anymore.)

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This gif of French comedian Remi Gaillard crashing a body-building tournament had me in stitches. For more of his not-so-subtle and occasionally reckless (and often litigious) antics, check this out.

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A stunning article in the New York Times about how yoga can wreck your body (if you want to keep doing it, just be mindful of your body and try to avoid inversions and shoulder-stands. Me? I’ll be eating and cupcake and hopping on an elliptical).

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Fact: Han Solo could teach us all a little something about religious tolerance.

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My friend Chrissy sent me this video of Matthew Wilder’s “Break My Stride” (in regards to yesterday’s Dick Move post). Between the green leotards with mirrored polka dots, the silver pants, and the bunny-hop inspired dancing, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything grander.

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I cannot stop laughing at this hilarious ode to Seattle: My Hometown is Better Than Yours

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I’m pretty sure I’ve featured Mike Stimpson’s work on my round-up before, but that’s not going to stop me from mentioning it again. In particular, his photos featuring Lego Star Wars characters are amazing.

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So much silver-haired wonderfulness: Steve Martin pretends that he has to leave due to other obligations on an episode of The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson (via @unicornrockstar)

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A recent ad for Target featured a little boy with Down Syndrome. A young father (whose son also has Down Syndrome) explains how the company spoke volumes by not saying anything at all. (Note: The site, Noah’s Dad, is also fast becoming the go-to resource for parents who are looking for more information about raising a child with Down Syndrome. It’s amazing and inspiring. Expect to lose a good chunk of your afternoon on it.)

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This clip of Neil Patrick Harris on The Price is Right put a ginormous smile on my face. Watch it – as though you need one more reason to love Doogie.

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That’s it for me this week! I’m off to do laundry. Or eat cookies. Whichever’s easier.

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My last post was intended to be about a pleasant day at the beach, and instead it devolved into gratuitous photos of me and my husband making out.

Sorry about that. I promise, there will be absolutely NO NONSENSE LIKE THAT TODAY. All my pictures will be chaste and sexless, and there definitely won’t be adorable self-portraits of me and my husband.

Like this one, for example.

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GAH! What is wrong with me? Sorry. Seriously, that will be the last bit of ooey-gooey sweetness for the day. It’s getting to the point that my own marriage might cause me to become diabetic.

Besides, spending long days traveling the world and having nothing to tell your readers except, “Rand’s hair looked particularly fantastic today. Also, his eyes looked greener than usual,” is just plain irresponsible. Yesterday, I got so sidelined thinking about my husband’s sideburns, that I didn’t even finish telling you the best part about Muir Beach, which is the overlook (there’s a joke here. Something about how I overlooked the overlook. I’m operating on 5 hours of sleep, so it’s not gelling together. Sorry). From there you have fantastic views of the water.

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Like all good things that one encounters while traveling, we found it rather by accident. We were heading away from Muir Beach, on an equally winding but decidedly less traffic-burdened road, when we saw a rather unassuming sign.

If I could give this sign an eBay rating, it would be this: "A++++ Item was exactly as advertised." BECAUSE IT WAS.

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“WE ARE GOING THERE,” I screamed, and because I was driving, we did precisely that. (This may be why Rand elects to drive on most of our trips. I pull over whenever I smell baked goods or a spot a thrift store. If it was up to me, we’d never get anywhere.)

Decades ago, the overlook high above Muir Beach was of critical importance. There are several dugouts in the cliff called “base-end fire-control stations” (though the affectionate nickname for them soon became “gopher holes”). They were placed on the hill early during WWII, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, when there was a fear that the next strike on the U.S. would either be in Los Angeles or San Francisco.  The gopher holes housed soldiers who were watching the water for enemy ships, with the aid of a giant scope. If they saw anything, they could relay the coordinates to a command center so nearby batteries could take aim at the targets.

Rand and the gopher hole. Again, there is a joke here, and again, I'm too tired to make it work.

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Obviously, no attacks ever took place on the west coast, and no ships were spotted.

Instead, dutiful soldiers spent long, chilly shifts in the gopher holes, two at a time, presumably alternating between being bored and freezing (or perhaps both, if they were feeling particularly ambitious). The military abandoned the stations after the war, and, judging by the refuse one can now find in the gopher holes, they’re currently used by the public as an out-of-the-way spot to drink beer, urinate, and get amorous, possibly in that order.

It occurred to me that I edited this photo to the point where it looks totally artificial. Forgive me. (Five hours of sleep, remember?)

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I found the explanatory sign nearby to be endlessly entertaining:

Note: "Parkas in Summer" would be a great band name for a group out of San Francisco.

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There isn’t terribly much to do at the overlook except to, well, look over things.

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And because I said I would refrain from the sort of treacly-sweet sentimental nonsense that’s been clogging my blog as of late, here are a few things Rand and I did not do at the overlook.

We did not chase each other down this boardwalk like crazed children on a sugar high.

Nope. Definitely not.

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I was not charmed by the mere sight of my husband as he walked down the stairs.

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And we absolutely positively did NOT make out here …

Move along, folks. Nothing to see ...

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Or here …

Don't trust your eyes! THERE IS NO SPOON.

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NONE OF THAT HAPPENED.

And while we’re at it, when we left Muir Beach, and found ourselves at Joe’s Taco Lounge, which is a thoroughly decent spot not far away …

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and had some lovely tacos, and then stepped out into the sunshine afterwards …

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I absolutely did not think, damn it, he’s a handsome fellow …

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… even when he has tortilla crumbs stuck in his beard. Though, really, could you blame me if I had?

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The Essentials on Muir Beach Overlook:

Verdict: Yes, particularly if you are in the area. If you don’t visit San Francisco often, skip this trip and just enjoy the views from the Golden Gate Bridge or Twin Peaks.

How to get there: You will need a rental car. The overlook can be found just north of Muir Beach, on Highway 1.

Ideal for: Photographers, WWII history buffs, folks who carry around binoculars at all times (like that one neighbor I used to have!)

Insider tips: Wear comfortable shoes. You’ll need to walk a little bit to enjoy the best views, and while the paths are well-cared for, they require a lot of stairs. It gets windy – bring a sweater or a blanket if you intend to hang out for a while.

Nearby food: There’s nothing up at the overlook, so you’ll want to bring snacks with you if you plan on staying for a long time. Joe’s Taco Lounge is nearby in Mill Valley, and is open daily for lunch and dinner. It’s not stellar, but after a day of making out chastely touring the area, it hits the spot.

Good for Kids: The paths are not stroller-friendly, and there are some scary drops near the overlook, so make sure you have ankle-biters strapped down (do they still make those baby-leash things?). Older kids who are able to appreciate the historical significance of the place will probably get a kick out of it.

And that means that this week, my blog turns 2.

Two years. Two years of traveling and writing. Twenty-four months of getting lost on public transportation and fighting with locals. A hundred and four weeks of eating lots and lots and lots of cakes (assuming I started eating them when I started my blog, which is incorrect). Seven-hundred-thirty days of following my heart, which belongs to this fool:

Fact: seconds after this photo was taken, he attacked my face with his. Look closely, and you can see madness in his eyes.

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And four-hundred-sixty-six posts (Four-hundred-sixty-seven, if you include this one).

When I started this blog, I didn’t really plan on it going anywhere, nor did I anticipate anyone but my husband (and a few of my friends) would read it. I simply wrote it for the same reason that people climb mountains or build buildings: I was unemployed and had nothing better to do (also, I may have been drunk).

But since then – and at the risk of sounding like a sentimental fool – I’ve found this blog has become an incredibly important part of my life. I wanted to do something to commemorate these two years beyond just doing shots of straight frosting. I thought about extrapolating on all the things I’ve learned while traveling, but decided against it. Gary Arndt just recently did a post like that, and mine would pale in comparison because, frankly, I’ve learned far less than he (seriously, I travel the world like I studied calculus. Half asleep, and clueless).

Besides, I was traveling for a solid year before I actually started blogging (yes, it’s true. I roamed around foreign cities, shopped, ate cake, and didn’t even write about it. It is as close to being royalty that I will ever be).

So instead, I’d like to tell you about the life lessons I’ve learned from blogging. Because sitting down every morning and churning out a post has taught me a thing or two – not just about travel and cakes, but also about shopping. I mean myself. YES. It’s taught me about myself.

1. A really shitty experience will make a great story. I’m not one to let anything roll of my shoulders (vendetta is an Italian word, after all). But being able to write about negative experiences helps give me a new perspective on them – and gives them purpose. Yes, I still get angry. But at the back of my head is a weird, perverse rallying cry. “TELL THE INTERNET!” it screams. And I always listen.
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   This was taken immediately after Rand and I had all of our luggage stolen in San Francisco many years ago. At the time, it sucked. Now? Great story.

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2. Don’t be afraid to be ugly. There are times when a story or a photo will not paint me in the best light. But I post them anyway, because vanity and truth are not friends, and great humor can be found when you forsake the former in favor of the latter.
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   HAWT.

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3. Don’t be afraid to be beautiful, either. Everyone gets tired of snark. EVERYONE. And when writers are cranky or contrarian simply for the sake of being so, it’s a detriment to their work. Sometimes, we see things that are touching and emotionally-resonant and, well, beautiful. It doesn’t happen all the time, and if you’re simply looking for Dick Moves, you’ll miss it.
   -  
   

   Life is occasionally grand. There's nothing more to it.

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4. Be thankful for the haters. Remember the Oscar Wilde quote: Only the mediocre are popular. The second you write something thought-provoking or interesting, someone will get upset, and occasionally, they’ll let you know. It is not a pleasant experience. It knocks you off your guard, it makes you question what you believe, and if it happens often enough, it will make you very quick with a comeback. Those are all good things.
   - 
   

   You know who else has haters? The PRESIDENT. Also, Tina Fey.

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5. Whether in a foreign city or on a tangent, getting lost isn’t as bad as it seems. Finding your way back usually requires only cab fare or the delete button, and you might find that the story that emerges is worth all the twists and turns.
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   We did not know the way. So we followed someone who also, apparently, did not know the way. It was a good night.

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6. The backspace button is your friend. There are times when I’ve spent several long days trying to work a gem of a phrase or paragraph into a post without success. And I’ve thought, “Well I can’t simply delete it, because it’s just too brilliant.” So I’ll cut and paste it into a new doc, only to find it in six months, declare it stupid, and delete it. Which is what I should have done in the first place.
   - 
   

   Just toss it.

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7. Know who you are. I’m not a budget travel blogger. I’m not a great photographer. I’ve never backpacked across anywhere. These are things other people can write about far better than I. So I decided to cover what I know and love: getting hopelessly lost, visiting Maritime Museums, snacking, and thinking about John Stamos. These are things I can write about with an alarming amount of expertise, and my blog is better for it.
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   Popcorn. I'm also good at popcorn.

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8. It’s okay to be imperfect. You may misspell something. You may mistakenly describe New York as the largest city in North America (what? I suck at facts). You may arrive at your destination and find it’s closed, or that you don’t have a reservation, or that your ticket was for the day before. Embrace it. Write about it. Know that your flaws and foibles make you human and sympathetic, and that much more entertaining.
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   There's beauty in our imperfections. I promise.

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9. You aren’t alone. I used to think the world was a huge, cold, unfriendly place. But the more I saw of it, the more I realized how untrue that was. How a few familiar faces could make London feel warm and inviting. How a day spent with family can make a town you barely know feel like home. And how a few clever comments on your blog from people you’ve never met can make you feel, in the solitude of your hotel room, like you are in very, very good company.
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   Who can feel alone when strangers creep into their photos?

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10. You need approximately one person to believe in you. That’s it. One sparkly-eyed fan who commented on your blog when no one else did.
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    And pretty soon you'll find it's contagious.

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So Happy Birthday, you imperfect, misspelled, often snarky, and occasionally beautiful blog. You’ve made me realize that being a cynical romantic with a debilitating sweet-tooth and no sense of direction isn’t the crime I once thought it was.

Now who’s up for frosting shots? -

I mean, secretly I always hoped people would find my blog useful/interesting/entertaining, but I was also convinced for a long time that Dustin Diamond was actually Beastie Boy Mike D‘s little brother. And I am still absolutely positive to this day that Duran Duran actually sings “Mysterious Ways” (please do NOT tell me otherwise.)  The point is, I can’t trust my brain.

Fortunately, having an unreliable brain doesn’t seem to be a road-block to blogging . Judging by my crazed fellow travel bloggers out there, it might just be a requirement.

So, while I try to calm myself down from all of this crazy excitement (Seriously. This. Is. Awesome.), I’ve compiled a list of my top posts from the last year (and beyond). Of course, they’re my opinion of what my top posts have been … and you know how unreliable that brain of mine is.

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The Danish Village of Solvang. (A brief exchange between myself and my husband as we walked through the streets of this central California town – Me: “Can we move here?” Rand: “No.”)

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My experience with the new TSA screenings. By the time you read this, getting on a plane will require a pelvic exam.

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Horrific Temptations and the Golden Gate Bridge. How spending time at the most suicidal spot on the planet makes me crazy introspective (I’ve since concluded this was due to a contact high received from being downwind of Berkeley).

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Finding George Harrison’s Clock Part I and Part II. We all have inner demons, sworn enemies, and collections of skeletons in our closet. Turns out mine was a very old clock that changed the way we travel the world (which is funny, because for YEARS I thought my sworn enemy was skinny jeans.)

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Dick Move, 1st Class A-hole. We get upgraded to first class next to a guy who’s so obnoxious, I wonder if tackling and punching him will render me a hero.

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Los Angeles: City of … no way … hope? I try to find the magic that my actor brother still sees in his hometown of L.A. And I almost succeed.

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Glasgow Bus Tours. Apparently the trick to hailing a tour bus in Glasgow is to look like you really, really want it. Um …

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London’s Old Operating Museum and Herb Garret. The scariest phrase on earth? “Victorian medical tools.” GAH.

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Ashland, Love, and Frosting. Quite simply my favorite place on the planet.

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The Local and the Tourist (a tale of Rome). Just when I start thinking I’m a total fish out of water, I find myself fitting in, far better than I could have ever imagined, in my mother’s hometown.

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The 12 items of clothing I always pack (and you should, too). Note: this post is actually useful (I’m surprised, too.)

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Borough Market: A place for love. But not vegetarians.

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Okay, I know it’s only 11:30am, but I think I need to have a celebratory drink. And by drink, I obviously mean “cupcake.”

Thanks to Time.com and all of my readers. This, honestly, is a little too awesome for words.

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