I was deep in conversation with Vanessa yesterday. It’s hard to believe that two weeks ago, we were barefoot in the tropical sunshine, sipping at coconuts through straws, traipsing through
Thursday I came back home after spending 12 days in Costa Rica. It could’ve been the bitter Chicago wind, or glimpses of my own dusky shoulders in mirrors, or nibbles
This is a promise: I am making international travel a Thing. With a capital T. If you have a lowercase “thing,” it’s a fleeting affair, you’re on a kick: I’ve
I just returned last night from a glorious week in Arizona. To 30 degree, slush-filled Chicago streets. Moving on.
On Thursday, Mom, Sister and I had a little touristy outing. My mom has been wanting to visit the Farmer’s Market in Daley Plaza for a while, and Vanessa heard
I’m in the market for a new bike. I love the one I have dearly: she really is the sweetest bike I’ve ever seen, and I’m so lucky I get
I’m on a full-on popsicle-making kick. If you think about it, popsicles are the perfect medium for flavor experimentation: all you need is a blender, molds, and a little inspiration.
I don’t like ice cream. But I love all other manner of frozen treats, including gelato and popsicles. I have taken to upon myself to personally try every frozen yogurt
