Author: LA

After spending our Saturday morning celebrating the fourth birthday of our very adorable niece, it was hard to tell if we were going to find any motivation to do much else.  The party was at Pump it Up which, for lack of a better explanation, is a large establishment full of different inflated activities.  A blown up gladiator ring, basketball court, jumbo slide and obstacle course, all glorified bouncy houses on an extreme level, fit for children and adults.  Feeling like we had spent an intense two hours at an NFL training facility, we made it home to shower and rest and faced the dilemma of either forfeiting our Saturday to R&R or getting up, getting somewhat dressed and getting out.  Taking the executive decision making into my own hands, I told Ryan to get himself together and get in the car.  At first it was an empty threat, thinking there was no way he would just jump up and follow command.  You can imagine my mental panic when I realized he was full on trusting my planning abilities and actually heading to the car.  With zero plan in mind, I turned the ignition and played a quick game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo in my head.  In silence, I turned onto the freeway for our Saturday destination, downtown Sonoma.

Half -way through Kenwood (home of many a local winery), and with no sign of me stopping, Ryan figured out where we were headed.  Other than passing through, I have never actually stopped in Sonoma and it was one of the few downtowns in the county that I was dying to explore.  I assumed that much like Healdsburg, Sonoma would be full of historic foundations, over priced boutique stores, a glass of wine available at every other doorstep and an excessive selection of places to eat.  I was pretty dead on.  We spent a couple of hours strolling around store fronts, indulging in a few jewelry purchases,  taking in the park around City Hall complete with duck ponds and live music, and lastly curing our hunger and dehydration with bubbles and classic Sonoma cuisine.

At five in the afternoon on a Saturday, few places were open.  The Ledson Hotel however was packed and seemed to be a popular joint.  Beaming with preserved historic architect, a brick lined patio rowed with French Doors exposing a marble finished, bistro feeling interior, if the aesthetics hadn’t captured our attention the menu would have anyway.  How often do you see Quail and Waffles as an entrée?  Considering we were only hours passed birthday pizza we went light.  Splitting the crab cakes, so fresh I actually had shell in mine (not complaining, refreshing to not be served imitation crab so far from the coast), and the Sonoma Chicken Sandwich (grilled chicken, caramelized onions, gruyère cheese on a toasted French baguette with roasted cherry pepper butter and garlic aioli), we each sipped on a glass of Schramsberg, Mirabelle Brut Rosé.  We felt very Sonoma.  If we had been able to have the hostess as our waitress as opposed to someone who seemed let’s just say, ready for her break, uh-hum, it would have been the perfect afternoon experience.  Someone should remind that lady her tip is dependent on service, just saying.

Considering I was so focused on what the heck I was going to come up with for our days entertainment, believe it or not, I put very little effort into getting dressed.  I am about 85% positive that what I wore is actually supposed to be a bathing suit cover-up, but considering it was $2.99 on a JCPenny clearance rack, who cares.  In my standard fashion, I did quite a bit of mix and matching price points.  Adorning my worlds cheapest we’ll call it a “dress cover-up” was my green cross body Michael Kors birthday gift from my awesome mother and one of my jewelry purchases of the day.  I guess when you leave the house un-accessorized you can always just grab something on the go.  Thanks to Simplicity for unknowingly completing my outfit of the day.  And a good day it was.

When Ryan texted me that he had made dinner reservations for us because he felt like enjoying dinner out with cocktails and his wife, like most women, I immediately started to think of what I was going to wear and the chronological logistics that would have to occur as soon as I got home from work.  I knew I wanted to throw on a new maxi dress that had yet to see the light of day and that I needed a blush touch-up.  I also knew that my hair was a mess and that I was opting out of wearing heels for the night.  With all of the details mentally playing out there was one underlying thought that I could not shake, can never shake.  Out of everything I was sure of there was one thing that I was most persistent on, this was NOT going to be referred to as a “date night”.  I don’t really know what my problem is but I cringe anytime I catch myself about to use that particular phrase.  For me, it’s right up there with dads referring to watching their own children as “baby-sitting”, my top pet peeve phrase ever.  They’re your kids, your’e not babysitting, you’re parenting.

The term “date night” has a connotation of rarity, as if it’s something infrequent.  When I hear “date night” I immediately assume that a couple is trying to re-kindle their romance, escape from a house full of children or that the two people involved make so little time for each other that it has to be scheduled, none of which applies to our marriage.  I know I am setting myself up to be misunderstood so please do not misinterpret my motive.  The awareness that there are many a couple that literally NEED a “date night” is present.  Neither of us think that we are immune to one day finding ourselves in a lifestyle that requires dinners to be noted in our shared calendar app.  However, at this moment in time, 2 1/2 years into our marriage and only 4 1/2 years total into our relationship, as the newlywed stage seems to be as present as ever, for us to label a dinner out as a formal “date night” just seems misleading, even discrediting to the true nature of our relationship.  We just aren’t there yet, and part of me hopes we never are.

As I run the risk of digging myself into a big hole, I realize that my above comments could be rubbing some readers the wrong way and instead of over explaining myself I prefer to leave it as food for thought.  In other words, I digress.  So, lets cut to some pertinent details about our dinner out.  Babe booked us an outside table at Sweet T’s, a southern bbq restaurant and bar with the most authentic menu that I have yet to see this side of the Mississippi.  Sweet T’s has all the southern staples, cat fish, hush puppies, dishes ending in “gumbo”, all enjoyed with the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Etta James playing in the background.  Starting with a Jack Daniels based Sweet Tea cocktail and an order of the hush puppies with honey butter we moved onto pulled pork bbq sandwiches, full of extremely sloooow cooked meat that practically melts in the mouth, completed with a shared side of Mac-n-Cheese.  The simplicity of the presentation leaves all the attention to taste, and taste it does.  Comfort food at it’s finest.

In our house no dinner is complete without dessert.  Considering we had to help each other roll to the car as the Mac-n-Cheese settled, there was no chance that we were going to be able to make it through a dessert off the Sweet T’s menu.  Stuck in between that, can’t eat another bite right now but know we’re going to want something sweet later, we headed to our trusty fall back that never lets us down.  Fro Yo baby.  With two more holes punched in our Yogurt Time card, we happily headed home, to toss the dessert in the freezer and most importantly, feed the cat.

 

Holding hands like high schoolers, carrying leftovers and frozen treats, arriving home to our number one faithful fan who’s furry little self is always waiting by the front door, an extra pep in my step from that darn Jack Daniels Sweet Tea, contentment overcame me.  Contentment from some crazy good fortune that has become my life.  Contentment that I am still not too sure what I have done to deserve.

 

 

Before I forget… about that maxi dress… not a style I visit frequently.  My height is not exactly maxi dress friendly and it’s a rare occurrence for me to stumble upon one that hugs (or doesn’t hug) in all the right places.  Somehow, during a random pop into the Montgomery Village Ross where I rarely venture, something about the pink on pen stripe combo stopped me mid visual scan.  Without even trying it on, I decided to risk the possible waste of a good $14 and go ahead and pull the purchase trigger.  My risk taking paid off.  By far the most comfortable dress I own, and one of the most inexpensive.  My trust in the retail discount giant has been restored and how many times do you actually get to say “Do you love it? I love it, I got it at Ross.”

 

 

Despite the fact that California can feel like summer practically year round, it was 78 degrees in January for our “winter wedding” for goodness sake, I still get excited for the first day of summer.  The anticipation of suntan skin, summer dresses, drinks that end in the word “spritzer”, the smell of a good bbq and don’t even get me started on the footwear options, all leave me anxious for it to come and sad to see it go.  I’m a Californian, born and raised, and if there is one thing us Californian’s all love, it’s summer.

This year, for the first day of the season, we had a lunch date with my childhood best friend who was passing through town during her visit from New York.  I have two of the world’s most perfect besties, other than the fact that they BOTH live in New York.  No one’s flawless.  To make things easy for the East Coaster, we planned on meeting in downtown Healdsburg, an easy hop on and off of the 101.  In thanks to weekend road construction, our meal time got a little thrown off and it ended up being more of a we eat now, you sit and chat over drinks later, kind of a lunch date. Regardless, the time spent catching up was priceless.  No matter how old you get, I don’t think the down right giddiness of girl time ever goes away, especially when your time spent is so sporadic.  Icing on the cake is that I am fortunate enough to have a bff friendly husband who sincerely likes the people I keep closest.  When it comes to him and Nina, the two get along like cheese and salami.

Ryan and I decided to post up on the patio at Bear Republic, a local brewery, to wait out the arrival of the “Neen Bean”.  What started as beer with chips and guac quickly turned into more beer with burgers and fries.  With a menu covering all the brew house basics, fried anything, house chili, burgers that make you feel full just reading the descriptions, their unique twist is that you can chase all of it down with my husband’s favorite beer in it’s very own brewery birth place. Racer 5, liquid gold.  I on the other hand am not a fan of ales, too hoppy for me.  With the mid 90 degree temperature and the festivus aura of summer, I went with the current local Mexican lager on tap, El Oso.  I paired my beverage of choice with “The Press” sandwich full of grilled chicken breast, caramelized onions and crispy bacon all oozing with melted brie.  Babe had the Stubby Burger that included pulled pork and fried onion shoe strings topped with a pretzel bun.  Godd-bye, normal diet.  Hello, garlic parmesan french fries.

After the drinks, food, and friends, the only thing left to complete the subtle celebration was a time out for my favorite hobby, shopping.  We hugged good-bye, sent our guest on her way and made a good clean lap around the town plaza.  Sprinkled with everything from clothing boutiques, home decor studios, restaurants, bakeries and an occasional art gallery, downtown Healdsburg has my favorite variety of shops.  If I am being completely honest, at times, Healdsburg has a sort of ridiculous attitude of eliteness that you can detect from some of the shop owners.  I think it has a slight reputation that can be discouraging but overlooking a possible occasional cold shoulder, the shops themselves have some great finds that you most likely won’t find anywhere else. Although I rarely walk away with a purchase, the finds that I have scored there are some of my most top favorite closet highlights.  My “have to visit list” each time we go always includes Clutch, Susan Graf Ltd., Saint Dizier Home and Bella.

There was no doubt that today officially turned into summer.  The sun was out in full force.  There were short shorts and maxi dresses a plenty.  With my melon colored, gold spiked, Steve Madden jellies, home cut denim shorts, and of all things a Fruit of the Loom wife beater from Target, I completely submerged myself into the seasonal spirit.  As the prospect of things to come seems limitless, and in my typical “I’ll drink to that” characteristic, I say “Cheers!”. Here’s to a damn good season, to my pledge to wear more rompers, to completing my search for the perfect wedges and to hours of staring at my husband in swim trunks.  Cheers to the highlights yet to be made. Cheers! to the summer solstice.

Noodle Note:  In a series of unfortunate events I broke a ring today somewhere between beer number 1 and beer number 2.  During what I thought was going to be a quick stop at Bella, Ryan stumbled upon a white on gold, replacement ring that I have to say, made losing the other one almost painless.  I love the simplicity of the smooth white center.  I have no idea what it is but it feels timeless and I feel lucky and that’s all that matters.  (Thanks Babe.)

After a weekend of playing major hometown errand catch-up, Father’s Day served like a reward for all of our hard work.  A day for both Ryan and I to spend with just our dads, in no better place than AT&T Park.  Go Giants.  Even now, at the tail end of whats left, the feeling of reaping our benefits still lingers.  Both Ryan and I are extremely fortunate to have the dads that we do.  Both of our dads are still married to our moms, a modern day rarity, both have been in our lives every single day at all possible times.  Sports games, dance recitals, school plays, you name it they were there. We aren’t naive to the reality of how lucky we really are. How special it is that Ryan can call his dad on a Tuesday night needing help installing curtain rods and he’s here in 10 minutes, with enthusiasm.  How unique it is that I can call my dad on Thursday morning and ask him if he has heard of some obscure song I caught the last 20 seconds of, suffer through me humming my rendition, all while giving his honest effort to figure out what the heck I am singing.

 

To share the day celebrating all that they have done, all that we have been through, the growth they have guided and the lessons we have learned at a place special to my family and a sport dear to Ryan and Ron’s hearts made for a near perfect day.  With the sun shining bright, a little too bright on some of my sunblock forgotten areas, beer on tap, nachos in hand, Giants in for an exciting first 6 innings… if it hand’t been for a disappointing 8-7 loss to the Rockies the day would have been flawless.

Ryan and I are filled with nothing but infinite childhood memories of days filled of laughter, trips to the dumps, Christmas mornings, Mom free weekends and backyard shenanigans.   We are part of a dying breed.  A breed of generations that were raised in a time of little worries, with freedom no kid will ever know again, with safety that just doesn’t seem to exist anywhere anymore.  We know this and because we know we never take anything we have for granted, especially the people in it.  Something, I suppose, you could easily say we both learned from our dads.

One of our favorite weekend past times is a trip to the family coast house, two hours north, in Fort Bragg, CA.

Since I was a freshman in high school, my family (in much thanks to Grandma) has had a sort of family compound off of Pacific Coast Highway (CA-1). As far back as my memory allows me to go, I have childhood reflections of summer vacations in Mendocino County. Each year, for a good two week block, all my aunts, uncles, cousins and parents would come and go out of a rented vacation home. As the family grew, the time spent and house size needed grew, until one day Grandma had the greatest idea ever.  She found a permanent residence for all of us to call home away from home.
Now, many moons later, all of us aunts, uncles, cousins, parents come and go at our leisure, almost never at the same time and frequently with our new, extended families. Ryan and I, being part of the pack that lives closest to the house, are there more than most. The comfort, relaxation and growing nostalgia of the house makes it our number one spot to run to when the need of a weekend away surfaces.

With the frequency that we visit it is almost shocking that we still have new places left to explore. The downtowns and neighboring attractions of Fort Bragg and Mendocino are more familiar than anywhere I have ever lived, yet so many off shoots of parks, beaches, trails and gardens are still extremely foreign. It wasn’t until last year that we both finally visited The Botanical Gardens and Noyo Harbor together. This weekend, I had another location of my past that Noodle hadn’t seen and I couldn’t wait to share it.
MacKerricher State Park, approx. 10 minutes north of downtown FB, offers rocky shores that contain about 90% of my entire history of tide pooling. Heading out just thirty minutes before low tide, and with our newest member to the lens family, the 85mm, we had little goals in mind except to hopefully find a good size crab to shoot and to keep our socks dry. By the end we had found one crab and we both needed new socks. Hours of balancing along California’s coastline, moments that should have ended with us carried out to sea and a selfie with a pod of seals later, the shots and memories made were all the more worth it.

 

The trail from parking lot out along the rocky shoreline and into the woods suspends from the grass like a floating bridge out of an unneeded sequel to Never Ending Story. Squirrel infested look-out sections add some unnerving excitement, can’t trust the little things but man are they cute as all hell. Babe captured it best.

The 85mm arrived just two days before the weekend. Excitement of a new lens has turned into the same kind of high one may get from purchasing a brand new, life changing, totally on clearance, didn’t know I couldn’t live without until we met, pair of shoes. Exhilarating. Giving the best bokeh we have yet to experience, sharpest portairts we have ever taken and allowing extremely close-up focusing from really comfortable distances has made this my absolute favorite purchase of any piece of camera equipment we have ever made.  I know we have a ton to learn about it’s full potential but the learning process has produced some of my favorite photos to date.

 

My favorite picture I shot and favorite picture babe shot all weekend:

 

As usual we left the coast house with heavy hearts. The kick-backed atmosphere of Mendocino County and coziness of a home oh-so-familiar is never easy to part with. Somewhere along CA-128 in the Navarro Forest I am always hit with an overwhelming emotion of contentment. My life has never felt so right, so complete.  As the ever so deep, vaguely sentimental sounds of the late 1990s classic, by a now practically forgotten alternative band known as Incubus once said….. “and in this moment I am happy, I’m happy.”

It just didn’t seem right to not post a little something about the last day of birthday month considering that’s how this whole thing got started (refer to first post).

While the first day of birthday month is full of so much hope and excitement for things to come, the last day is generally the polar opposite.  This year, as age seems to be striking an emotional cord I was unaware existed, I was teetering on calling it good on the 31st and staying in for a standard Saturday night.  If it wasn’t for Ryan booking reservations somewhere we both had been dying to try and the fact that there are minimum three pairs of shoes in my closet I have yet to wear (waiting for the right occasion of course), kettle corn and a Sandra Bullock marathon probably would have been the extent of the festivities.  I can safely say that I am greatly thankful I didn’t throw in the towel.

Close enough we could technically stumble home if we had to, Willie’s Wine Bar offers one of the best wine menus I have ever seen and serves food my favorite way, family style small plates.  I could go on and on about the romantic dim lighting, fun quirky waiter, sort of fancy wine country meets hole-in-the-wall atmosphere but, I rather cut to the important part, the food.  Curried Crab Tacos, Sweet Pea & Cheddar Mac-n-Cheese, Pulled Duck BBQ over White Cheddar Polenta (our personal fave!) and Filet Mignon Sliders, all in perfect portions for two.  Selecting the “I <3 Sonoma County Wines” flight collection, including Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir and Cabernet Sauvignon, made for the perfect pairing.  Loved the extra touch of the wine flights served ala placemat with each corresponding winery listed.  Its the little things.

Wouldn’t be worth leaving the house if I didn’t get to pull some fun out of the ole closet-o.  Finally getting to wear my latest DSW find added some pep in my step.  There is no better drug than a new pair of shoes, I say.  Matching them with my draw string 50/50 floral pants was an excellent idea.  The waiter said 5 small plates is perfect for a couple but after just 4 plates I was retying the draw string before we were even back in the car.

Birthday month satisfied.

Passing through southern Orgeon, with a cruise through Ashland and it’s Shakespear Festival included, we found ourselves crossing back into California much sooner than we expected.  Our destination for day 3 and 4 was a spot so small that most people we spoke to had never heard of it.  Those that had, questioned our motive for spending 2 nights in a town that closed down at 7:00pm and boasted just 1 gas station.  Day 3 and 4 were spent in the under populated, easy to miss, other side of the mountain town, McCloud, CA.

Just like the other destinations, McCloud was selected off of Google Earth based on it’s central location, smack dab in the middle of all types of environments we were hoping to photograph.  With zero knowledge of what the town itself would offer, we were initially a little set back upon check-in to The McCloud Hotel,  a sort of Bed & Breakfast type of Inn.  We quickly took to the fact that our hotel, being 1 year shy of hitting 100, offered no modern day amenities, something that sounded much more problematic than it turned out to be.  We are living proof that you can survive without a microwave, refrigerator and TV for at least 48 hours.

After a quick stroll through the annual Mushroom Festival (that’s a real thing) right outside our front door, we set out to do what we came for.  We loaded the camera equipment into our trusty steed and headed out.  With the town of Mt. Shasta 14 minutes in one direction, the McCloud River and Falls 12 minutes in the other direction and small town, abandoned attractions a plenty, we were almost overwhelmed with possibilities.

There is no way to captivate the gorgeous views found around Mt. Shasta (no photograph could ever do justice) but we tried our best.  Babe was super impressed with my river rock balancing and upstream hiking while hauling tripod manuevrs.  It’s always a bonus when you can impress that one hottie you have like a super crush on (or are married to).

Between abandoned trains, vacant buildings, unkept parks, rivers, water falls, wild life and one of the oddest wheeled machinery lawn decorations we have ever seen, we went from questioning what we had gotten ourselves into to planning our next trip back.

Leaving wasn’t easy.  We had really started to feel nested with our styrofoam cooler of beer in the bathtub and dresser turned snack bar.  If it hadn’t been the friend and family filled bbq awaiting us at my parents house in Lakeport, we most likely would have put in a request to stay just one more day.

As soon as we pulled up to my parents the loss of leaving behind all we had encountered began to fade away.  There is nothing better for my soul than being surrounded by the small pack of individuals that I affectionally call, my village.  Made up of extremely close friends that have pretty much never missed a birthday, Ryan and my new in-law-family extension, my folks and my best friend Grandma, my village will always be home base.  I am fortunate in so many ways, but I am richest in love.

 

Shortly after entering Oregon, I spotted a confusing sign along the road that read “Tigers Reservation Facility”.  It seemed like a mistake being out in the middle-of-nowhere southern Oregon.

Just as I said to Ryan, “That can’t mean what it says it is,” we passed by a fenced in facility that, we would soon learn, is home to over 40 exotic cats of all sizes.

Still a little skeptic and confused, Babe flipped a U-turn and we pulled in only to find a Bengal Tiger within 40-50 yards away (caged, obviously).  We both immediately turned into seven year old versions of ourselves, each grabbed a camera and skipped in like we had discovered a lost kingdom.

The Great Cats World Park at Cave Junction, Oregon.

We didn’t have time for the full tour so we opted on the $10 a pop option which allowed us to roam freely in the front park where they keep 7 of the 44 cats.  The crazy cat lady in me was seriously freaking out.  Separated by just double rows of chain link, we hung out with leopards, a mountain lion, a couple of tigers, some form of lynx and my personal favorite, an 11 week old water cat.

As if our adrenaline wasn’t already pumping, on the tail end of snapping the sixteen month old white tiger Brutus, we experienced our first “oh-s***” moment of the trip.

After quite a bit of camera flirting through the fence line, Brutus sauntered to the back of his pen and began slowly crouching behind a log, literally staring into Ryan’s soul the entire time.  Snapping ferociously with the zoom lens I said, “Look, its hunkering down like Boogs does behind shoes.”  Simultaneously, we both remembered what comes after the hunkering down behind shoes and before either of us could get out the next sentence, Brutus came bursting out of the log at full charge straight for us.  As Babe says, “My mind was saying it’s OK, there’s a fence there, but my body was saying I’m about to get eaten by a tiger.”

I was able to capture the hunker but nerves and instinctual reaction got the best of me and I dropped the camera during his sprint forward.

Heading over to Tessa the seventeen year old mountain lion, Brutus gave one more lunge at Ryan through the fence.  Thank goodness we were in the setting we were because all I could think for a brief moment was “How am I going to explain this one to his mother?  See, so there were these tigers in Oregon…”

When I decided that I wanted to ring in my 31st year of life via road trip I knew I wanted to plan the entire trip and leave it as responsible free for Ryan as possible. He has an inherit knack of wanting to plan every vacation down to the final hour, and he’s pretty good at it. However, this time was different on numerous levels, and I wanted to take care of every detail, and every none detail. With a combination of Google Earth and my basic knowledge of what lies above us in what I call “The Square Part” of California, I spent a whole two hours on a rainy afternoon designing my master plan. A plan that would put us further north in our home state than we had ever been and more time in the car together than our last 3 road trips combined. With the soul purpose of finding gorgeous landscapes and nature’s best assets to practice our photography on, I spent little attention to star ratings and more on location for places to stay. Leaving everything, beyond designated spots to rest our heads, up to Mother Nature and the stars, we loaded the car with a single piece of luggage (more on my first time minimalist packing later), every piece of camera gear we own and a snack bag full of pop-tarts and bottled water and headed out onto CA-101 North.
In the first 2 days we covered the entire Northern California coastline. Complete with a swing through Drive-Thru Tree Park, a scenic cruise up The Avenue of the Giants and a pop into the gigantic Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox gift shop, we worked our way up to Crescent City .

I severly underestimated the amount of beauty found in Northern California. The redwoods stand so tall and proud, rivers like the Eel, McCloud and Klamath break apart the thickest spots of the forests with water so pure and clean you almost want to bathe in it. Places like Crescent City with it’s red-roofed light house and pelican filled harbor, line the coast as you fade in and out of their hippy-surfer infested downtowns.

We constantly found ourselves pulled over on unknown roads, swapping lenses and resetting the tripod. At one point in Orick we found ourselves sitting along a dead end road, staring at about half a dozen sets of Elk antlers as we waited for at least one of them to stand up in the field of ferns that they had taken their high noon sunbath in. Turns out Ryan does a horrible Elk call but can balance on the edge of a decrepit wooden fence with camera in position for hours. The things you learn.

Some of my personal favorite shots that Noodle got our first couple of days out:

 

Bound for the Oregon border by day three, I personally had no knowledge or expectations of what we would find along the 199. All I knew as we crossed over into our friendly neighbor from the north was that we were bound to see layers of forestry and maybe, possibly, hopefully, some sort of wild life. The type of wildlife that was waiting for us just miles away was nothing I would have ever imagined in my wildest dreams. OK, maybe in my wildest but I have quite the imagination.

 

After six days of road tripping around Northern California, and for a brief moment the bottom of Oregon, being home has never felt so good.  We had one of the best vacations of our lives but after hiking through the Redwoods, climbing waterfalls upstream, trekking through dense Mt. Shasta forest and not to mention staying in a town that even made the gift store owner in Weed, CA raise an eyebrow, showering in our own shower and sleeping in our own bed is top of the line, priceless.

I am overwhelmed with the amount of photography we got and random stories for days, some worth sharing, some you really had to be there, and some we will take to the grave.  I can’t wait to share highlights of our adventures, the results of me selecting all accommodations online, some of the delicious spots we found to grub at and of course little road trip fashion tips I learned along the way.

This very second, however, I am on my way to take an extremely hot shower, put on fresh clean, crisp pajamas out of my own dresser, eat some local tacos from across the street and enjoy an ice cold beer, out of our own fridge.  So for now, I leave you with some of my top favorite captured moments fresh from the ole iPhone.

A very deepest thank you to everyone who has wished me such warm birthday wishes.  Thirty-one at the moment sounds extremely old and gross, especially being an odd prime number.  I know that there is great potential for me to have the best year of my life ahead or possibly one with some of the biggest learning curves I have yet to encounter, or maybe even both.  The options seem endless, despite the age sounding old (to me) and I can’t help but smirk at how far I have come to get here.  I am ready for you 31, but just for now, for fashionable sake, lets call you 30 round 2.

xoLA

 

Noodle Note: Huge special thank you to my folks. They have thrown me a pretty solid 31 years worth of celebrations and this year was thought out down to the last detail as always.  I greatly appreciate the effort that the worlds best hosting duo has put into everything that they have ever done for me.  Love you.