TYOE: Las Vegas

I may look 29, but my mental age is far closer to late 80's. I like sleeping and breakfast and things that are quiet. I used to be all in for late night parties and making questionable choices but now when I do that I wake up the next morning wishing for a black hole to crawl into to sleep forever.

Las Vegas was a place I figured I had aged out of at this point.  With the exception of perhaps an outlying bachelorette outing, I thought I might never make it.  But it turns out, I was going to spend the anniversary of my birth in the city of... something (lights? bad choices? whatever).

Here is how to do Vegas if you are old and grouchy like me:

Stay at the Elara. It has no casino inside, which is nice because no one who isn't staying there is wandering around drunk and it never smells like cigarette smoke. It is technically "off the strip," but it is a very short walk (less than a block, inside or outside) to put you smack dab in front of the Bellagio.  The rooms are great, the pool is great, and it does not have a resort fee.  Stay there.

Go see "O." People are not joking when they say this is THE show to see in Vegas. It was perfect. It was two hours of pure magic and delight.  I found myself just wanting to watch it again and again. It is absolutely worth every penny you spend to see it. 

Eat one all-you-can-eat brunch. My vote? Le Village buffet at Paris. Brunch is the preferred buffet meal because you get the best of all worlds. Eggs. Cocktail shrimp. 47 million macaroons. Eat at 11:00 a.m. and then you will never have to eat again. 

Cocktails at Parasol Down at the Wynn. We only found it because we spent most of our time in Vegas just exploring, but it was my favorite. An outdoor bar overlooking a gorgeous waterfall where you forget you are even in Vegas. 

A birthday treat from Jean Philippe Patisserie. You only turn 29 once. 

Here are some other ways to pass your time (if you hate gambling):

Slots and video black jack. This might sound like gambling but if you do it right, you can make your money last the longest and get the most free drinks (coming out kind of ahead at the end of it all).  Also, it takes so long to lose your money (if you make the lowest bids possible) that you forget how time works and find yourself stumbling back to your hotel room way past 3:00 a.m. patting yourself on the back for being a real gambler without the devastating heartbreak of losing your entire life savings. 

Another show.  We saw Penn and Teller which feels like the obvious choice.  They are super political these days though. I do not know if they have always been the Libertarian magic show, but yikes stripes personal freedoms, we get it already.  My vote would probably be for Absinthe if we ever go again.

Play arcade games at Excalibur. When you're sick of losing money for no reason, switch it up and lose money because you are playing arcade games.  Boyfriend crushed a game of Indiana Jones pinball so hard. It was the best fifty cents he spent on the entire trip.

Sit by the gd. pool. It is 80 degrees. Do it. Stop rushing around and just enjoy your vacation. 

We also ate at Lotus of Siam, The Peppermill and Fleur - all of which were also super delicious and worth it. 

If we can get to Vegas and stay there for under $300 a person, I would totally go back. I love anywhere I can sit by a pool in late October but honestly, it is kind of overwhelming and sad. You are having a good time and then you realize this is basically a giant resources suck in the dessert that steals peoples' money with their permission. The free drinks are nice, and the nice architecture is nice, and as a place to just walk around and enjoy it is fine - as long as you can forget that basically this is a place where sanity and good choices come to die.

Nine times? Nine times!

Guys.

I am announcing right now that this will probably be the penultimate novel marathon I do. Who knows how I will feel next year, but this year was pretty rough. 

If you look at this handy graph that the lovely NaNoWriMo people provide:

This was really more of a write a novel in about eight days (for the record, on day 23, I was at 6,000-ish words). Once again, it felt absolutely crazy, but completely normal to hammer out 10,000 words in a day. 

I found myself writing best on the train before and after work, any time that might be spent playing on facebook was spent writing novel in the past week. I turned facebook, and pinterest, and gmail off on my computer so that I could focus. I wrote instead of going out to have fun with out of town guests, I wrote instead of getting any of the fun things done I wanted to get done. I wrote when all I wanted to do was go to sleep. And then, I was finished. 

This year was hindered by the fact that I had no idea what I was going to write about for a long time. And then I decided what I was going to write about, and I realized very quickly that it was going to go nowhere. So instead I just changed, about four thousand words in, to make my book about something else. Then there was the fact that there was always something better to do. Something that needed to be done sooner, or something that was more interesting or something that stressed me out more. It was not until last weekend that I realized that Thanksgiving was not the second to the last weekend, but the LAST weekend of November and it was time to hustle. So I hustled. And now it is done.

Next year is ten years. That feels like a good stopping point. Ten years of unreadable novels feels like a good amount. They're stretched over three laptops (one of which does not exist any more, which may mean those novels are gone for good, quelle domage) and ten most different years of my life. Ten years ago was 2004, which was New York, and college, and whirlwind of having absolutely no idea what was going on in my life or anything else. This year's novel is kind of a tribute to that feeling and that year which feels quite appropriate for the second to last one.

Thanks go out to:

Dbudz for always believing in me, even when sometimes he was all, "you do not have to do this you know? You can just stop." But then when I said no, he was all, "okay, I will go make some tea."

Dbudz's family for also being fine with my Thanksgiving being spent on the computer for hours and hours at a time. Also, sorry I am not sorry for smoking all of you in Apples to Apples.

T-bone and her family for not batting an eye when I said, "yeah, I am not going out to dinner/a show/fun things with you, I have to sit at home and write my novel." T-bone does lose a point in the thanks column for introducing me to Scandal, which ate up an entire weekend of writing because sadly, I could not figure out a way to incorporate text messages consisting of "Ohmaaahgaaaah, what just happened, I am about to die." into my novel. It's okay T, I still got it done and Scandal is my most favorite. So its all just fine.

Happy December everyone.

Inner Demons and Good Feelings

I shot out of bed this morning, wide-awake with anxiety at 5:15 a.m. A full hour and fifteen minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

For the longest time, I just lay there, letting the anxiety wash over me again and again until I thought it would explode out of my fingertips.

And then as if some sort of fairy godmother was whispering my in ear, I thought, "what am I panicking about?"

I am panicking about things I cannot control. Things that will get done when they get done. Things that are partially my responsibility - but my portion is done. Things that are so far in the future, I can barely put them on a calendar. Things that will require a late night, but only because I sometimes take on more than can fit in your standard day.

I was anxious about things that did not require the rapid heart rate, the sweaty palms, the near tears. I was anxious, because anxious - due to years and years of having too much to do and a huge helping of fear of failure - is my default position. Anxious is how I am.

While I wish I could say that this revelation made the anxiety magically disappear and I am reborn a calm and zen human being forever rational - that is not the case. The anxiety never left. It stayed as I lay there waiting for the alarm to go off. But somehow, the knowledge that the anxiety was unwarranted, helped make it okay. It was still bad, but Okay Bad.

It was as if instead of chasing off the demon, the good feelings just sat with the demon and they started working out a peace accord.

I don't know where this bold moment of clarity came from but I hope that by announcing it to the internet, someone else finds one as well.

TYOE: Charlotte

Charlotte was the perfect city to visit on the tail end of a week-long stay in Maryland, and right before we brought out the big guns: Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Seattle and the Treehouse.

We stayed with one of my longest-time friends C-sea, who has lived in North Cakalacky for almost 10 years. This is my first time getting down there, so clearly, I'm the worst friend.

She and her main squeeze, E (together they are known as Chellis) - own the cutest, pinkest house at the end of the lane. It was so fun to get to see how they are decorating - and since C-sea is a Pinterest queen - it's pretty amazing. She should probably blog about it. 

We had two requests for this trip: good North Carolina BBQ and their favorite brunch. Otherwise we wanted to drink and sleep. This is not how this trip would have gone five years ago when it just would have been up in da club for 48 hours straight. But an old lady knows what she wants: good food and an early bedtime. 

Chellis totally delivered in both departments. Our BBQ was courtesy of Mac's. Despite a flighty waitress and an inaccurate beer list, it was crazy delicious and far less biker-y than the exterior would have you think. It was an arm and a leg above most places in Chicago. And I'm always happy to have a choose-your-own-adventure BBQ sauce experience.

Brunch was courtesy of Heist. I normally am hesitant to jump into an all-you-can-eat buffet breakfast because I feel like its a quantity over quality disaster. Not.the.case. Everything was so amazing. Most amazing? The giant waffle that Danny topped with baked French toast?! What?! What?! In second place was the endless train of mimosas maxing out my daily intake of bubbles. Mmm. Bubbles. 

We also snuck in a meal at Loco Lime because I was craving a margarita. It was Mexican food which is pretty much the same in Chicago and Charlotte.

In two days, we had three meals. And we were satisfied. That's how delicious and filling everything was. God bless the South. 

Charlotte has a crazy brewery infestation - we let Chellis pick a couple favorites and ended up at Triple C and Birdsong. In a cage match, my money would be on Birdsong, but go to both and you can be the judge. 

We ended our weekend at Whiskey Warehouse for more mimosas. Because I was lying before and there is no such thing as too many bubbles. They have a killer roof deck that would have been perfect except you can still smoke on bar patios in Charlotte, which truly was the only tick mark in the con column of this trip.

That's it. Food and drinks and playing catch up with some of my favorite friends- Chelsea, Ellis, and sleep. Thank you for a perfect lazy weekend. 

Good morning

This is the view I woke up to this morning from my treehouse. The city girl in me will never die, but I could get used to this. 

Deep down in my gut I have that sinking Monday morning feeling but right now I could not care less.  

So it begins

It was a little ironic that this week I could only describe my mindset as Zombie.

Get up, go to work, work, work, work, come home work, work, go to bed, get up, go to work, work, work, brains, brains, brains, bed.

Halloween passed with absolutely no fanfare beyond a caramel apple and cupcake. I almost forgot that after Halloween comes all the writing. 

Last year, I did NaNoWriMo with nothing else on my plate. I was unemployed and had a schedule chock-full of free time. And I couldn't make myself write.

This year, I'm in the middle of wrapping up one event and planning two others - which involves a constant stream of words and numbers, and to add insult to I-can-never-say-no-to-work, I'm in the middle of a writing project that will last well into the month. Plus, we have four trips left to take, including tonight's to Seattle. And I haven't even told you jokers about Charlotte, Vegas or the gd Canyon I hung out in. 

But I signed up. Because I always will. 

So we'll see if no free time creates more writing time in one of those inexplicable equations of the universe.  Either way, I'm sorry for the radio silence. More blogs later...whenever that is...

Things I made - the orange and pink edition

Our bags are packed (again) and we're rushing off to Las Vegas (with bonus Grand Canyon visit) after work today. I have one billion things to get done, so no real blog today. Just the promise of updates from Vegas, Charlotte, being 29, and my garden.

 

Speaking of my garden. Look at this gorgeous monster.

 

No filter (why would you filter perfection)

                              

 

My dahlia looked totally dead in mid-August, but with some serious patience and love, I came home to this gorgeous bloom on Monday. I am not often proud of myself, but I am seriously pleased as punch about this gorgeous lady.

TYOE: Maryland (part 2)

More eating recommendations for any time you might spend in the Fredneck/MoCo area.

Isabella's has an amazing lunch tapas special. 3 ladies x 3 plates each = all the fried asparagus. Their plates are generous and delicious anytime but lunch seems like a no-brainer.  

Bonus points for popping into Muse, across the street, and buying a beautiful handmade stuffed animal for one of your besties, or any of their other amazing locally created trinkets and delights. 

I do not spend a ton of time in Charlestown, West Virginia but my favorite little monsters (ages 4 and 6) live there, and I have it on good authority that they are pizza experts, and they eat Papa Johns. So, clearly Papa Johns is the best in the biz, with a little Yellow Tail Shiraz blend for the grown-ups, hello Tuesday night.

Side note: this was the first time I have gotten to hang out with these kiddos in about three years, just us and not our entire enormous, loud, crazy pants family. It was so wonderful even though they are quite simply, the rottenest. 

I have a crafted a theory about the restaurants Voltaggio after having eaten at all four.

If you are looking for a fancy, lets impress everyone meal - you go to Volt. If you want to do this and have it not be an incredible strain on your wallet, you do it for brunch. 

If you are looking for a delicious dinner that will make everyone happy - you go to Family Meal. You make sure you have at least one order of duck fat fries for the table (maybe two if some people skipped lunch), and you order the fried chicken. Let your friends make their own choices, but don't mess around with this, it's fried chicken or its pack it up and go home.

If you need a sandwich, go to Lunchbox (duh). 

If you are just looking for some short eats and a craze-mazing cocktail, you go to Range. Having eaten dinner at Range, I can tell you it is not worth it. The price tag on a meal that makes you full is steep, and for the quality of food, impractical. We had some amazing bites, but that only made the bad ones all the more obvious. Get the rockfish, and the sunchokes, and anything that you can smear bacon relish on. Get a drink, be brave and order something with at least one word you don't know, and then be done.

When Congress continues to deny you buttermilk fried alligator bites, Good Stuff Eatery is getting all the sloppy seconds by way of some realdecent cheeseburgers. Get a milkshake, because you only live once. If you see Barack Obama there, tell him Rachel says hello. 

Pacifico has sangria. Apparently they have food too, but after all that cheeseburger, sangria is all you need to spend an afternoon catching up with your friend-who-is-family.

When you find out your 21 year-old sister has never eaten Greek food, lament her entire childhood being spent in Western Maryland, and then head to Ayse (pronounced Eye-shay). You must get the Brussels sprouts. This is not a negotiation. These are world champion Brussels sprouts. They are so freaking delicious. Get two, who cares, they're a mystical, magical vegetable. Then whatever other Greek food you need, which is mostly just lamb and cheese on fire.

For your final meal, you convince your Granny to take you out to lunch, and really the only acceptable place is Clyde's. Cross your fingers for seating in the hunting room and enjoy the bizarre placement of this kitschy Adirondack lodge in the middle of sterile, boring Montgomery county. Get whatever you want (a crab cake). Thank your grandmother for lunch and for telling you about all the ways you could be a better granddaughter. 

And then as you're leaving, get Chipotle at the airport, because there is a chipotle at the airport. God bless you, BWI. 

TYOE: Maryland (part 1)

When in Maryland, you should:

Make sure your flight is as late as humanly possible so when you collapse at the Hyatt House (which is technically in Virginia) it's the best bed you've ever been in. Bonus points for the free breakfast including omelet bar.

Go when the government is shut down, essentially ruining all of your well-made plans (to go here for the best lunch and here for the cutest panda). 

End up driving around historic Annapolis just enough to be mad that its raining and you can't find parking. Get your perfection-on-a-bun crab cake sandwich and some cookies at Chick & Ruth's. Take them to the movie you are 15 minutes late to (in Maryland, crab cakes can be brought in anywhere).

Try to get on the Bay Bridge at 4 pm, on a Friday, before a three-day weekend. Take back roads, feel like chump (yeah, a chump that didn't sit in two hours of crawling traffic).  Arrive at your lovely Aunt & Uncle's house for amazing BBQ from Em-ings).

Go to a backyard Maryland wedding, one chock-full of love, and family, and bliss. One where a flooded backyard is not a cause for crisis, but just moving the tent across the street. Get muddy, drink a little too much, eat all the crabs. Drive through a foot of water (the tide is in, duh) to stay at this crazy lodge. Celebrate two really fun people and the villages that made them so great. Steal sea glass off all the tables at the end of the reception. 

Drive forever. Listen to as much Mike and Tom Eat Snacks as you can. Make sure you get stuck in beltway traffic ruining any nap-taking plans you might have made.

Watch one of your forever friends get married. Be rescued from a stink bug by your 8th grade English teacher (who is also the mother of the bride). Sit at a table with people you've known for almost 20 years. Be overwhelmed at the amount of love you have experienced. Eat a cupcake. Ponder all the delicious cupcakes eaten in the past 48 hours. Feel lucky that you know people with good taste in baked goods. Dance. Sing. Skip the after party. 

Crush the free Holiday Inn Express breakfast buffet. Twice. Day drink and reminisce at RFD. Drink more at Del Frisco. Break into some National monuments. Take pictures with the nice police officers who won't let you break into others. Sit on Einstein's Lap. Celebrate the city that feels like it has always been yours. Eat a pretty good eggplant sandwich with your Dad. 

(This trip was 8 days long, which is too long for one blog, more yummy food recommendations tomorrow).

Quick note on routine

I haven't been on a train in a week, which is one of the reasons for the sudden absence. When you make a routine, all parts of the routine are required. For me, writing blog posts, in the morning, on the train required all of that.

Instead, I've flown into Virginia, criss-crossed the entire state of Maryland, regained my rightful title as Best Cousin in West Virginia, and had several boozy, slightly illegal adventures in DC. 

But today feeling the overwhelming need to commute (and wanting to get into DC without sitting in traffic) I took the train and had my first routine blog. 

It looks a little different here: 

It makes for a nice change. 

Real blogs start again on Tuesday. 

Don't Pull

I hit my wall.

After running on Dr. Pepper Ten fumes and my all-consuming fear of failure for the past three weeks, last night, I could not do it anymore.

So I went to bed, hoping I would wake up magically better or magically with all my tasks complete. 

Quite obviously, neither of these things happened. So I am force to keep running up against the wall, pushing it with my weak, flabby arms and the promise of being nothere in just 48 hours. 

Push on.

Five years of this.

We don't celebrate anniversaries.

We celebrate sandwich Tuesdays 

and Bike Accident day

and the weekends when all our favorite teams win.

We don't do presents.

We do far away adventures

and close to home adventures 

and drive through the night because we forgot to book a hotel room adventures.

We don't do flowers.

Because if you tell a guy once that you don't like flowers

You will never, ever get flowers

(Lesson learned).

We do:

Late nights on the couch.

Breakfast in mugs.

Bad fights that end in huffs.

Silence.

Forgiveness.

Joint travel anxiety.

Cake.

Walking far.

Staying in. 

Being scared.

Providing comfort.

Beer with fruit.

Shoes everywhere.

Bad photographs.

Good bits.

Here's to five years of whatever this is, and whatever it will be. 

Sunday Wellies Love

On Sunday, my green Wellies and I made it through the rain and the last minute sprints across the quad with a ribbon fluttering behind me and the volunteer scramble and the medal ceremony where we unceremoniously switched someone's gender, and the out-of-tshirts and the too many bagels and the moment where the sky got blue and everything was great and the "thank yous" and the "you did it's" and "how does it feels" and all the mud that ever was.

Thank you green Wellies. For a final hurrah, we knocked it out of the park. 

Another Year Pt. 1

Its my birthday month! I don't like to celebrate my birthday as much as I just like to take time to think about how amazing it's been to take yet another trip around the sun. Here's the unfinished post I wrote last year. It is absolutely still true. Get ready for a weekly birthday post for the next few weeks as I prep for the last year of my 20's. 

I feel like I talk about traditions a fair amount. I don't know why, per se - but as I grow up and my life extends outward, I have found that traditions, both old and new, help keep me centered and inspire moments of reflection of how lucky I am in this little life of mine.

Sappy? Yes. But true.

Today is my birthday. I am 28 years old. Its a mellow birthday. I am easing into my late twenties slowly and quietly to avoid pulling a muscle. But luckily - slow and mellow is my favorite part of my newest birthday tradition.

For the past few years I have had the luxury of knowing when I wake up on my birthday that the day is mine and I can do whatever I want with it. If I want to carpe it. I can. Or I can curl up with a good book and let it wash over me. Most years it's been a little bit of both. But the rule is - no plans and no requirements beyond being happy.

So this year it was free donuts (guys, Beaver's Donuts gives you a free half dozen on your birthday if you can track them down. Fo' realz. Plus they give you a hat!)

...and coffee with Boyfriend who had raced back from a work trip to Kansas to spend the morning with me before giving me a kiss and promising dinner and presents.

Then a trip to anthropologie, a visit with one of the most important people in my Chicago-life, and now a moment at home to eat eggs and toast and be happy for all I've got.

Thursdays best Internet finds - the grass is greener edition

When I say my life is at Def-Con Bravo stress levels, that is only a gross over-exaggeration in that my job has very little impact on the world. It is stressful because I am bad at managing stress. I am particularly bad at managing stress that comes from things out of my control. I am stressed, but only because I am terrified of failing and I am leaving my success up to others.

That being said! One of the ways I deal with stress is thinking about all the other things I could be doing. I dream about other places, other careers, other whimsical things that strike my fancy. 

One of my favorite stress-relieving day dreams is here- at Longest Acres.

Reading this blog is like talking to the coolest girl you know who also happens to be the kindest and the most badass. Except she is a stranger. But I think we would be friends. Right? How creepy and stalker am I? I want to steal your life and be your friend. Yikes.

Her life doesn't sound perfect, in fact it sounds like it comes with all it's own stress and anxiety, but at the end of the day, when I have been sitting at a computer for 12 hours trying to make bagels appear out of thin air- it's the simplicity of her life that makes me so envious. 

It's not something I could sustain but to escape to a place where you get to control everything and find pride in that sounds pretty awesome. 

Brain waves

I have said it a million times, but I am not being facetious when I say that Boyfriend and I are up most nights until at least midnight working. And there are bonus all-day-Sunday weekend additions too.

When there isn't football on, and we haven't devolved into being too zoned out to turn it off, the TV is on, to give us some semblance of just being two normal not-overachieving people. 

For the past month or two we've been watching Arrested Development, from the beginning, six or seven episodes at a time. Last week, on the orders of all of my Facebook friends, we added Broadchurch to the mix.

You should watch both of these shows. They're both amazing. If you're like me and never got around to AD when it was on- carpe the Netflix.

Broadchurch may require your local Internet dark alley, but it's so worth it. A stunning sea-side, small town with gorgeous cliffs and vistas is really the only place to set a show as gut wrenching as this one. So that people can have the mixed emotional response of, "I am so sad and this is so awful, Oooh I really, really want to visit this, why don't our sad things in real life have beautiful ocean-reflected sunset lighting them?" 

For a few days we were watching both Arrested Development and Broadchurch back-to-back because variety is the spice of any life that is devoted to spreadsheets. 

Those were the nights of the most bizarre dreams. In a weird, sick way, my brain found a way for these shows to fit together and the result was unsettling. 

So, for me, it's back to eight hours of West Wing back to back when I need to get my work done. 

My childhood with Marcella

Once upon a time. When boyfriend was not quite boyfriend yet, just a boy who made my chest hurt, he was trying very hard to impress me.

We were swapping memories and I told him I was going to make him one of my favorite meals from childhood - pasta with bacon, peas and ricotta. He said it sounded gross. To which I replied, you sound gross. 

In an attempts to win my affection, boyfriend went to the store to purchase all the things I said I needed for this meal.

"Why did you get black-eyed peas?"

"For your thing. You said you needed peas."

"Yeah. I need peas. Actual peas."

"Oh."

In an attempt to look like I handled crisis and change well, I went ahead and made the dish with the (eventually very incorrectly cooked) black-eyed peas.

When we sat down to eat, I could barely hold back my emotions.

"This is kind of ruining my childhood."

He stoically ate all of it, leftovers included.

Eventually, I must have made the dish correctly for him, and he was not impressed. He said he couldn't really taste the difference between this and the other version. 

Once again emotions rose up in me and I tried very hard not to punch this still-not-boyfriend in the nose.

This dish, and many others that came from the pages of Marcella Hazan's kitchen were such huge parts of my childhood happiness, it was hard (still is hard) for me to understand how they don't evoke the same emotions in others.   

The food of Marcella Hazan is the food of my favorite memories. This dish of everyday-excuse-for-bacon joy, rice salad of Nantucket summer nights, pasta al forno (with homemade bolognese) for birthdays and welcome homes. Any and all of these things, eaten the next morning, a bonus dinner for breakfast treat.

Boyfriend managed to stick. So did these meals. Every one now cooked in my kitchen too. 

Thank you, Marcella, for a delicious life.

Other people wrote about her too: In the New York Times, and the New Yorker.

Pictured: my first ever made all-by-myself pot of Bolognese.

 

Thoughts from Hazel

Mom. It's Sunday. It's beautiful outside. You have not snuggled me all weekend. And there is chocolate cake in the fridge. Chocolate cake. 

I will sit on all your notes and give you salty looks if that is what it takes for you to get off your laptop. I'm a jerk who wants the best for you. 

40 cases of anxiety

40 cases of water are being delivered to me today. They will have my name on it and I will be responsible for finding a place to go. Last week it was 10 boxes of bags and 12 boxes of frisbees, Tuesday it was 20 boxes of water bottles, yesterday it was 8 boxes of chips.

My life exists in bulk now. Everything I do and buy is for me and my 1500 newest friends. 

There are only 9 days left of this - it's so close and yet, I would give anything for just a few more days. A few more days to give everything a chance to arrive on time instead of at the last possible second. A few more days to figure out a marketing strategy. A few more days to illegally post one or two more posters. 

I would not wish this dull ache of panic that I walk around with on anyone. But it's almost over. And it's Friday. And this was my breakfast. #donutart

Carolilly Square

This should be a Thursday's Best Internet Finds post but technically, I found out about it in the real world and now sing its praises on the Internet tubes.

Carolilly Square makes my heart beat for the East Coast. All summer, I had been seeing pictures posted on her page of these amazing tanks and hoodies. Finally, I got myself together and bought one.

Buying this sweatshirt was amazing. Internet clothing shopping can be so dicey and Chicky was so patient with me as I tried to make sure it wasn't going to show up and not fit and then nothing would ever be nice again. She was great and thorough and clearly wanted me to be happy with this purchase. She's the best.

This quote makes me miss all things Maryland. Any time I wear it, there is this dull ache of wanting to be where I am not. Which will only make being there (two weeks from today!) all the sweeter.

The more I see of Carolilly, the more I just want to crawl into her store and live a life of adorable, trendy fairy tales. Everything is so thoughtfully picked out. There is clearly a mission and a story and love in all of it.

I adore a good lady-owned small business - it's nice when your retail therapy (of which I am doing a lot these days) can be beneficial for an actual person. 

That being said - someone buy me one of those chevron infinity scarves now, please and thank you.