A Simple Style | Shopping For Home Decor.

I dragged Kyle into the bookstore the other day to “get books for our bookshelf”. 

We have a bookshelf in our living room that I’ve recently gained the opportunity to re-decorate. And when I say “recently gained the opportunity”, I mean “one of my plants died and it’s thrown the entire shelf out of whack and now I have all of this space to fill where my dead plant used to be.” 

I guess if you gain nothing else from this post – there’s a lesson in what happens when you don’t water your plants. 

24 Hours in Phoenix, AZ.

We made a pit-stop in Phoenix last year on our way from The Grand Canyon to San Francisco (which is not at all between “The Grand Canyon and San Francisco”, for those of you familiar with geography, but it was one of the places that had an airport relatively nearby – and also because, during the planning process, I said, “Ooh! We should go to Phoenix! It’s so cool! I was there a few years ago with some friends, we loved it.”)

We LOVED IT. In hindsight, I’m trying to remember why we loved it – maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was -2 degrees back home and in Phoenix we got to wear bikinis and drink margaritas all day. That might have had something to do with it.  

But I managed to forget about all of that when I said “We should to go to Phoenix!”, “It’s going to be so fun!”, “They have cactuses there!”…. so we went to Phoenix. They have cactuses there. 

How to Shop Your Own Closet.

I was inspired to write this post because I *didn’t* buy a jacket. 

Back story – I have fifteen thousand jackets at home. Probably. I haven’t counted, but I know that when I open up our “coat closet” (also doubles as our laundry/shoe/vacuum/Swiffer closet) most of the coats that I see in there are mine. Maybe three of them are Kyle’s. And one of those I bought for him. 

This post could have just as easily been titled “Confessions of a Shopaholic” or “How to be a Crazy Coat Lady” – but honestly, that’s a little embarrassing and – based solely on my experience today – I am clearly turning a corner outside of my consumerism mindset. 

Exhibit A: I did not buy a jacket. I *almost* did. But then, I didn’t! Yay! (Isn’t this a great story so far?) 

Exploring the Grand Canyon.

I had been to the Grand Canyon once before. Which is not to say that when Kyle and I discussed visiting the Grand Canyon on our trip to Vegas last year, I was like – “yawn, snore – seen it, no thanks” — but I figured you should know this for two reasons: 

1) Because I – for some completely stupid reason – believed this made me an expert on all things ‘Grand Canyon’. At least once I said, “No, we need to go this way. I remember from when I was here before.” (Keep in mind that I can barely remember where I parked my car in the Target parking lot after thirty minutes – but, sure, I remember this dirt path from my two hours spent at The Grand Canyon four years ago.) And also –

2) I was the WORST  tour guide. For someone who has actually BEEN to the Grand Canyon before – I know shockingly little about it. We pulled up to the entrance where they were doing helicopter tours, and I actually said “Oh wow, they do helicopter tours?! That’s so cool!” So. There’s that. *Also – in case you didn’t know, they do helicopter tours. 

I won’t bore you with details about my trip there from 2014. Mostly because it was two hours spent walking around with my friend saying, “Oh, will you take a picture of me by this rock?” and then taking pictures of my friend when she asked, “Hey! Will you take a picture of me on this ledge?” And then we left. Because once the profile-picture-taking-game was over, we ran out of ways to entertain ourselves. “The Grand Canyon seems like more a ‘family’ vacation spot,” we said – whatever that means. Like it’s the equivalent to Sea World.  

Study Abroad Series | Packing to Live Abroad.

I signed up to study abroad during my junior year of college. An entire semester in Spain designed to immerse students into the culture, learn about the history, and live with a host family who spoke zero English.

Literally, zero. No habla. Just a Madre and a padre who discussed current affairs every night at the dinner table (I’m guessing, I actually had very little idea what they were talking about. Like I said, everything was in Spanish, and they talked so fast!), and a host brother who was super into Shakira. My roommate and I heard the song Rabiosa through the thin walls of our piso AT LEAST once a day.

Spending a semester in Spain sounded like a great opportunity. I mean, yea, my Spanish skills sucked – even after two semesters of the basics, my ability to string a sentence together usually went like this: “Hola. Como estas? Chaqueta, biblioteca, gracias, tienes un pluma?” Which Google Translate will tell you means: “Hi. How are you? Jacket, library, thank you, do you have a pen?” Clearly, I was ready to navigate a foreign country.

Getting out of your comfort zone.

We went hiking on one of our first dates. I say “one of” because neither of us can remember which “one” it was. I think it was the sixth or seventh, and Kyle thinks it was, “Maybe the fourth? Fifth? I don’t know.”

Here’s what I can tell you – it was late enough in the game that we were comfortable spending an hour and twenty minutes in the car together, yet it must have been in the EARLY stages, because I remember waking up at 6 AM to shower and “get ready”.

Get ready. For hiking.

A day in the woods. Weaving through trees. Climbing over rocks. Walking through spiderwebs.  Doing that thing people do where they take really big, wide steps over puddles and act all, “What? Like it’s hard?”

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