Thoughts from Gus.

Hi friends,

This is my Uncle Dan giving me a bum massage. 
How embarrassing. 
But heaven help me, I love a good bum massage. 

Sniffs and licks,


A bit of our little home.

Piece by piece, memory by memory, we're making this place our home. 

It's been so wonderful to get to know you, little apartment. 
One day down the road, I will marvel at the fact that Saturday cleaning took me two hours. 


Newport, Rhode Island.

Two weekends ago, husband and I went up to Newport to celebrate our anniversary. 
It's a place that we used to take day trips to while we were still dating, and we haven't been back in years. 

We stopped at the marina with husband's family to see our brother Taylor off on his sailing adventure to Bermuda. We're so proud of him. And we're pretty glad that he didn't get eaten by sharks. 

We spent the rest of the weekend walking along the cliffs, admiring the mansions (and deciding that we much prefer our pea-sized apartment), sitting on the beach and eating lobster rolls like they're going out of style. 

Please, someone take me back. 


Bethany Beach, Delaware.

This weekend I headed down to Delaware with nine of my girlfriends for another beach getaway. My skin is drinking sunlight. I always say that any day is made exponentially better when I've gotten endorphins and Vitamin D, especially after being in an office all week.

We hit the beach and the pool, walked the boardwalk, watched movies from the 90's, celebrated a birthday and ate lobster macaroni and cheese (which may have changed my life). After spending 70% of the weekend in a bathing suit and sandals, throwing on a blouse and heels was a bit of a struggle this morning.

Hope your weekend was sunshine-filled!


Rooftop Birthday.

This week, my sweet friends threw me a rooftop birthday party, combined with another friend's going away party (she's headed to Vanderbilt for law school - yeah, Catherine!).

I can't tell you how blessed I feel to have these girls in my life. When we moved back to the city, I worried about finding women who I could connect with. The city can be a lonely place. But these girls invited me into their lives, offered words of wisdom when needed and became dear confidants.

They're pretty awesome people.


Dear Husband.

This past weekend on our anniversary trip, I was reminded (again) of just how lucky I am that you wanted to marry me. I still get butterflies every time you call me your wife. 


Father's Day and turning 23.

I was born 23 years ago on Father's Day. This weekend, as we celebrated both my birthday and my father's role in our lives, I thought about the ways in which I hope to become more like this man who gave me my name. It's deserving of more than a blog post, really.

At 23, the kind of woman I aim to be is one that my father would be proud to claim.


Anniversary in Misquamicut.

To celebrate our second wedding anniversary, Blake and I took Friday and Monday off from work and headed up to Newport and Misquamicut. Both hold so many memories of weekends while we were dating. We spent the last two days going for long walks and runs, sitting on the beach and eating lots of seafood.


June 13th.

Two years ago today, I married the most wonderful man. 

Our newlywed years taught me:
1) my husband is always right. it's good to remind him. 
2) my husband would be a complete mess without me. if he lived alone, who would send his Christmas cards??
3) we are the kind of people who talk baby talk to their dog. constantly. 
4) cooking should be more of a group activity. 
5) couches are better on the small side. small enough for you to get someone's bum (Gus's) in your face when husband, wife and pup are all on there together. 

you know, among other things. 

I love you, Lawrence Blake.


In the last year.

As of yesterday, we've been living in Manhattan for one year. 
It was a year of new beginnings. New jobs. New friends. New apartments and new neighborhoods. New family members and a chubby little bulldog to love. It was a year of challenges. Blessings in disguise. Life lessons and awkward moments. Lots of back rubs. Too few phone calls. And Pinkberry. So much Pinkberry. 

This week we celebrate one year in our city, two years of marriage and my 23rd birthday. 
Husband put together this little video to document the last year.
You know, because we don't have the time or desire to blog and scrapbook. 



We celebrated my grandmother's birthday with brunch. Gus enjoyed the grass (and flowers and trees and mud and a dirty pool cover) in Connecticut. We stopped by Sullivan Street Bakery once or twice for flatbread. I watched mornings come and go from my window at work. I ate some spicy Thai food with friends on a Sunday night. We saw a play that my brother-in-law directed at a theater near our apartment. We barbecued with my family. We ran the path along the Hudson on a cloudy morning and returned to a sleepy pup and an apartment in desperate need of a good clean.


Around here.

I've never been able to commiserate with complaints that bloggers portray their lives as being happier, healthier,  more beautiful than they might be in reality. Mostly because blogging, for me, represents a celebration and documentation of life, rather than a diary entry of fault and failure. Those things have a way of creeping up, even when they go undocumented. Making a conscious decision to remember more goodness and blessing that stems from hardship - that's the challenge.

It's not all sunshine and flowers around here. If it was, I suppose it would mean that we'd stopped truly living. 


This is my brother.

 He graduated from high school this weekend. 
And he is on to a life of horticulture study. 
Which is weird, because I'm pretty sure he was three-years-old yesterday, running around the house with a plastic Mickey toy. 

My mother, sister and brother-in-law did not graduate this weekend. They just like to dress in gowns. And they're teachers, so they get to wear funny little hoods. Lucky.

Also, please stop looking at my pasty white legs.
Thank you.