The Oregon Coast // FLASHBACK FRIDAY
Aaaaaaand as further proof that the west coast is the best coast: the gorgeous Oregon coast.
Oregon’s beaches might not be ideal for swimming since they’re so cold, but they sure are pretty.
Aaaaaaand as further proof that the west coast is the best coast: the gorgeous Oregon coast.
Oregon’s beaches might not be ideal for swimming since they’re so cold, but they sure are pretty.
I’m going to Utah for 4 days next month and I’M SO EXCITED!! It’s not often enough that I get to escape the big city and hit the open road. Current plan is to rent a car from Salt Lake City, belt out some tunes with the windows down, and head down to Canyonlands and Arches National Park.
I’ve been badgering my friends for months about going snowshoeing.
This winter in NYC, I’m on a crusade to override my tendency to go into hibernation mode for 4 months.
Rather than share a travel story related to this Flashback Friday photo, I’m going to spit out a few DC-related memories. Because honestly, there isn’t much of a story here: I went to DC, popped over to Arlington National Cemetery for a hot second, was captivated by the symmetry of all the tombstones, and just really enjoy this photo I took there.
I’m 29 years old now. Aside from having to manually change my age on the sidebar of this website and my social media platforms, I don’t feel any older. I’m pretty ok with that!
I could have easily and contentedly wiled away my last full day in Montreal last October with more city frolicking, had I not gotten the itch: the undeniable urge to get out, shake things up, and up the excitement gauge in my life.
I moved to New York City at the start of 2008.
Exactly three weeks later, I found myself on a photo adventure in Long Island City, of all places. I don’t think I’d even heard of this Queens neighborhood before coming here – and if I’m being honest, I probably saw it mentioned in one of my cheesy New York books, such as “1000 Cheap or Free Things To Do In NYC”.
Sign #642 that you’re not a winter person: Every time a snowstorm hits, you instantly think of warmer times. Of sunset bike rides, picnics in the park, island getaways, sunburnt naps on the beach, tanktops and flip flops.
I’m always deliberate in telling people that the walk from my apartment to the Graham Ave subway stop takes 12 minutes. Exaggerating to 15 is a surefire way of ensuring that no one will ever visit me in my little Brooklyn nook, while rounding down to 10 just doesn’t do this long-drawn walk justice.
As terrible as it’s been being hit by snowstorms and polar vortexes (vortices?) this winter in NYC, I remind myself that a mere 7 years ago I was trudging uphill through snow just to get to class every day at Cornell University – things could be way worse.