Bopril

Cinque Terre

At last, let's talk about the final stop of our much loved, long awaited Italian adventure.

We finished our trip with a few days on the coast discovering the five darling towns of Cinque Terre. It isn't really a place that you can capture in words and photos, but it grabbed me by the heart and I know two things for sure: 1) I will never forget our time there, and 2) without question, we will return.

It's the sort of place that challenges reality; you honestly can't believe it exists. Stunning views at every turn, sleepy villages built into the mountainsides with panoramic line of sight to the ocean thousands of feet below. You look out to the horizon and see nothing but sea in all directions, but it doesn't feel desolate, it just feels peaceful. Comfortable. Like coming home.

I adored every minute and every stop of our Italy travels, but I am a coastal girl at heart, and this place brought out the best in me. We weren't able to do the full hiking experience due to an extra long rainy season that had the trails closed for fear of mudslides. I suspect they opened about a month after we left, and it is now on my life list to return and hike them in full. We did do the infamous "lover's walk" from Manarola to Riomaggiorre, and it was lovely. We stopped to take photos all along the way, and to inspect the locks and trinkets left by people all over the world who had traveled our same path. I posted updates to Facebook while we were on the walk, and immediately several people replied with their own endorsements of the same experience. It seems that everyone who visits leaves truly touched by this special place.

I think about Cinque Terre quite often; I close my eyes and remember sitting at the water's edge when the sun went down. I think about the full afternoon and evening we spent sitting at a table on a cliff. We drank wine and prosecco and ate jams and breads, and talked and talked. It is truly the sort of place that is so difficult to leave, you can actually see yourself forgetting the "real world" and moving there full time. I'd open my own cute shop or restaurant or gelato stand and interact with people from all over the world, every day. I'd hike and kayak and swim and take ferry rides and travel all over Italy and Europe. 

I'd endure thirty rocky train rides on dirty cars to get there again. It's a special part of the world, and I am so thrilled that I was able to experience it.

Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore---you captured my heart with your magic, and I will be back.

The Horses of Derby

The Hats of Derby

Weekends Rock, Especially This One

I have a soft spot for weekends. I know most people do, but my obsession grows constantly, a thirsty plant turned upward toward the rain-filled sky. I'd love to be one of those lucky people who lives with the same joy, same passion, same get-up-and-go every day, not live with one eye constantly trained on the sweet relief afforded by the weekend ahead. But the truth is, I am not. I am a weekend girl, through and through, and I love the arrival of Friday afternoon, the mix of lazy and productive and relaxation and togetherness that colors Saturday and Sunday, the wine infused dinners out and wine infused dinners in, the feeling of opening my eyes with no sense of urgency. No beeping alarm, no frantic rush, no go-go-go, just a steady progression of lovely. Winding through neighborhood streets sipping on Starbucks, nodding hello to neighbors, laughing at pups who lose their minds over squeaky orange balls in the park. Errands and shopping and flitting here and there. Seeing friends and sometimes just enjoying our own company. Popping the cork on wine bottles, firing up the grill or walking to a neighborhood spot for sushi, curling up on the couch or outdoor chair with our laptops or magazines or books. Talking and being quiet, running around and sitting still...the lullaby of weekends sing me through the craziest of weeks.

And while all weekends are greeted with joy and open arms around here, there are always a few that stand apart from the crowd. And one in particular that gives us enough joy to last several months each and every Spring.

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The first weekend in May always brings us Derby, and we happily hunt down attire and hats, pack our things and head for Bluegrass. The energy of Churchill Downs on Derby Day (and even on The Oaks the day prior) is hard to express in words and photos. The entire place just vibrates with Southern pride and good times and family traditions and fierce fashion. 

And there is one moment toward the end of the day that really brings the entire experience full circle. A moment when final bets are placed and drinks are clutched and everyone piles into their boxes and spills over into aisles and walkways for a better view. When a hush falls over the crowd and the familiar strains of My Old Kentucky Home fill the air, every mouth singing along, almost every eye spilling over with tears, and a palpable rush fills the air for just a second.

A moment when horses load into starting gates far to our left, an announcer's voice readies the crowd for the best two minutes in sports, and a cheer takes the shape of a stadium wave and grows steadily through the throngs of people until it reaches where you stand and you scream your fool head off, completely lost in the magic of the world's finest animals. You yell for all of your furry friends, and you get emotional again and again thinking of just how hard those beautiful creatures run. How they give it their all, right to the finish.

And you snap photos and hug your family and give thanks for the millionth time that you're part of such an amazing, time honored tradition.

This year's Derby was good stuff. The Oaks the day before wasn't shabby either. And we had such fun.

Behold, photographic evidence:

Rocking PINK for the OAKS!

 

DERBY FUN:

Next up---separate posts honoring the hats and horses of Derby. Yes, they are fully worthy of their very own post.

Venice. Sort Of.

I finally got around to writing the post that was going to regale you with all things Venice and inspire you to set off on a Venetian adventure of your own. I wrote the entire (long) post, added approximately eleventy billion photos, hit spellcheck just before publishing and then....nothing. Frozen, the spinning pinwheel of doom.

Yep, Typepad ate the entire post. Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the inclination to recreate it, so you are getting this instead. My apologies in advance.

On Venice: it is charming and lovely and a city atop the sea. There are gondolas! and gelato! and children who play after school! and wine! and water buses AND taxis! and a trillion awesome spots to sit and look out over the sea! and countless spots and reasons and inspirations for making you so thankful to be there! and pigeons! and wide open squares with orchestras! You should go the first opportunity you get, and don't let naysayers color your opinion. I found nothing cheesy and everything awesome about Venice. Especially the lanterns. Venice has really badass lanterns. Instead of the carefully curated and lovely photos I painstakingly picked out and posted for you, you'll have to click and browse over here if you'd like photographic evidence that Venice is fab.

And now I will share with you the only thing that kept me from hurling my laptop out the open balcony door when I discovered my post was gone, forever:

j

You're welcome.

Coming soon pending further Typepad related meltdowns: Kentucky Derby, the five glorious towns of Cinque Terre, and general summer fun!

PS, I am terrified to attempt spellcheck, so please forgive any typos. Thanks in advance.

Under the Tuscan Sun

Apologies for the delay in the telling of our Italy story---life has gotten in the way with work and travel and events of late, but I'm getting back on track. Fair warning, this one is long. You may want to grab snacks.

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As we were planning our Italy trip, I knew that in addition to the big spots, I really wanted to try to see some of the Tuscan countryside, and we were both pretty enthusiastic at the possibility of wine tasting Italian style.

In Florence, where we had the most time and were closest in proximity to said countryside, we decided to explore our options. With the help of the amazing folks at the Four Seasons, we found ourselves hooked up with an all-day private driver to show us around and arrange wine tastings wherever we'd like.

It was a bit of a splurge, so we waffled momentarily on whether or not we should do it, before we finally looked at each other over a glass of pinot noir in the glamorous hotel bar and said "we're in Italy, why are we even talking about this, of course we're doing it!" And with that, we had our trip to the country and our wine tasting experience secured. We went to dinner and enjoyed a lovely Florentine evening, happy that we'd been able to fit this experience into the trip, and very excited for the day ahead.

Alessandro, our driver, was adorable, friendly and over-the-top eager to ensure we had the best possible experience. Before we even left the Four Seasons, he asked us questions and had a good idea of the places he'd like to show us. His English was terrific, but when he didn't fully understand, he'd respond enthusiastically with "yes!" no matter what you'd said. It was as charming as it sounds. We were so excited, and we had no idea how much we'd enjoy the magical day in front of us.

So you can really come along on this lovely little journey, here is Alessandro, conversing with the Husband:

Isn't he sweet? And here I am, consulting our map of "Chianti Classico," the countryside region that we'd collectively agreed was our destination for the day:

Italy makes what is arguably the best chianti in the world, and this specific region, just beyond Florence, is the heart of that production. The wine is made from the sangiovese grape, and the Black Rooster is the sign that marks a bottle of wine certified from this region. The labels are pink with a red circle for regular wine, and a gold circle for reserve wines. Here's a visual:

Having been suitably educated on the region and its wine expertise, we set out for the country. Within 20 minutes, the views outside our windows were stunning. If I had my pick of any place in the world to buy a vacation home, I think I'd be hard pressed to find somewhere that would beat Tuscany's countryside. We stopped many times, Alessandro expertly navigating our excursion and pulling over at the "best" spots to see the vast land and vineyards and Cypress and Olive trees that surrounded us on all sides.

We passed a centuries old church, maybe the smallest I've ever seen, and Alessandro dutifully pointed it out to us with plenty of warning so we could be ready with the camera. I easily imagined generations of villagers filling the pews to worship on Sundays, and was amazed at the intricate detailing of the tiny structure. It is evident that it was lovingly built with very skilled hands:

Now that we'd gotten a taste of what we were in for, Alessandro informed us that he'd called ahead to a good friend of his and gotten us into a half day tasting at a "great place."

We entered the grounds of Verrazzano, and from the moment we turned onto the drive, I was smitten and enthralled and head over heels in love. This is where the story gets really good.

Verrazzano is a family owned winery run by an amazing and spirited man named Gino with the help of his American wife and his small staff. We meet him immediately upon arrival and he warmly welcomes us, sniffling constantly due to his Cypress allergy. We also meet Maggie from New Hampshire and her parents; Maggie is living in Rome with her husband for a year, and runs her own wine and cheese shop back home. Her father is a surgeon, but his hobby is making wine of his own, so this is an excellent family to join for a wine tasting and tour. They are lovely and fun, and we banter back and forth all day, fitting easily together and very much enjoying each others company.

Elena rounds out our small group---she is a lovely woman who teaches American college students Italian, but having grown weary of that gig, is now training to work with Gino at Verrazzano. She takes notes in her little book all day long, and says "Brava!" every time I attempt a word or phrase in Italian. I can see immediately what a wonderful teacher she must be, and I develop a pretty strong girl crush as the day goes on. With our group fully assembled, we follow Gino on a tour of the outside grounds of the house and vineyards. 

Everything is picturesque and lovingly kept up, and there is a graceful peace that envelops you when you arrive and stays with you long after you've gone. Not to sound cheesy, but the place has an almost spiritual feel to it, and it is obvious from the start that everyone who works there is passionate about the wine, the grounds, and each other.

Before we go inside, Gino tells us how important it is to love the land, to understand that the land gives you grapes which allows you to make and "bring wine to the world." Throughout the afternoon, he will say again and again, "the grapes were here first." As I listen to him, I can't help but think how amazing it would be to go to work each day with such passion in your heart and such love for every single aspect of what you do. Inside is warm and cozy and lined with all varieties of barrels---small, medium and large---hosting all sorts of wines in various stages of the aging process. It is overwhelming to see how immense the collection is, how complex and planned the process, how wine truly gets into the bottle that we so casually pop open and drink without much thought.

Toward the end of the tour, Gino makes me cry for the first of about three times that day when he gathers us together to "say a few words" before we head inside to taste and have lunch. He speaks again of his love for this special place, for the land and grapes and every single drop of wine. He talks of good years and bad, of the dependency on weather and other elements completely beyond human control. He recites a poem in Italian by Lorenzo the Magnificent and then translates into English. It is beautiful, and I try in vain to keep the tears from spilling onto my cheeks. [I am still begging Google to find this poem for me so I can post it here---no luck yet!].

He makes us all laugh when he says Italian children drink sips of wine regularly; he doesn't understand why it is forbidden in America until the age of 21. To him "wine is life, and life is wine." When he says it, we don't laugh and I think each of us actually believes it, so infectious is his generosity and passion. He thanks us for coming to visit them, and says, "my friends...eat drink and love---and don't be afraid of death." I'm pretty sure I can work with that advice, yes?

We head inside to taste the wine we've been hearing about, and encounter more stunning views as we go:

Inside, we wash up and gather around a beautifully set table and out of nowhere, wine appears in front of each of us. Gino teaches us to properly smell the wine, notice its patterns on the glass and understand what they mean, hold the taste in our palettes and pair with the perfect foods. The staff serves an amazing lunch; it is the best of the trip and to this day, I think longingly about that lovely plate of food.

Gino toasts us, thanking us for sharing our lives with him and wishing us well, and I hide my tears behind my wine glass as I wish him the same, and then some. We eat then, and drink our wine, and soon part ways with our new friends, after exchanging email addresses and promising to become Facebook friends. As we pull away from beautiful Verrazzano, I say to Beeg "I will always remember this day." 

We explore more countryside, stop at a small winery for another mini tasting, and I can't get enough of their lavender scented everything. I wash my hands with their soap, and smell lavender all day long and into the night. We wander around a tiny village, mostly deserted, but lovingly cared for all the same. We stand atop a church that looks more like a castle, and wander the aisles of a tiny wine shop and the private cellar and wine collection of its owner. I stand on their tiny balcony and watch springtime exploding all around me. We visit an actual military fortress and I walk around in awe, half expecting armed Roman soldiers in full armor to come around the corner at any moment, and imagine an entire village seeking protection behind those high walls atop a gorgeous hill.

We load into the car and head for the freeway that will take us back to Florence, and we're lost in thought relishing our fabulous day. I have a sudden light-bulb moment, turn to BJ and say "OMG, babe right now I am literally under the Tuscan sun!" He laughs and we leave Chianti Classico clutching our bottles of wine, so happy with our decision to add this day trip to our itinerary. 

In Florence...

We climbed more than 400 stairs to the top of the tower adjacent to the Duomo and enjoyed panoramic views of the entire city. This was only after devouring every inch of the Duomo itself and exposing ourselves to cultural overload. It was breathtaking up there. And windy.

We visited a slew of other museums too, but photos were strictly forbidden, and ever the rule follower---I obliged and kept my camera tucked safely away from the critical eyes of security guards (even if they were somewhat of the rent-a-cop variety). I very much enjoyed wondering from painting to painting, from sculpture to sculpture, and like everywhere else on this trip, I just got lost in the history of my surroundings. It was especially mesmerizing to stand in front of the famous David sculpture. The scale is truly spectacular, and you honestly can't imagine how he carved such an intricate image from stone. I marveled at the artistic passion and talent of years past almost constantly on this trip. It made me wish I were more of an art aficionado, or at least proficient in art history. I might want to pick up a book or two in the future. And I know for sure that I've been letting the art in my own surroundings go to waste, having never visited a single museum in New York or Chicago. I have it on my list to remedy that as quickly as possible.

We luxuriated in our hotel---The Four Seasons---and fell in love with the grounds, the staff and the unparalleled service that is dependable and consistent no matter what corner of the earth you visit. The building was once a palazzo, and I easily imagined royal families dressing to the nines for formal dinners and throwing balls in the glorious staterooms, twirling the night away on marble floors. They boast one of the four largest private gardens in the world, and even when not fully in bloom, it was stunning. I took a particular liking to their magnolia trees.

We walked every square inch of the town, and especially enjoyed a central bridge in the city that, during the day, was covered from end to end in gold and jewel shops, and at night, was a glorious spot to stop and admire the cityscape back-lit by the moon.

We enjoyed fantastic restaurants here. In fact, we didn't have a single meal that we didn't immediately label outstanding, even as we came face to face with our first experiences with menus completely in Italian. Our love affair continued with gelato as well, and we admired the chic fashion sense that was uniquely Florentine. We met a very suave man named Filipo who used to work for Valentino and who lived in New York for ten years. He was very knowledgeable and entertaining, and from his table dressed head to toe in cashmere, he informed BJ that he "dressed like a basketball player." The conversation that followed was pretty funny, and we were at least a little sad to part company with our interesting new friend.

On two consecutive nights, we found ourselves closing out the night at an open patio bar in the middle of a huge plaza. We'd have a few glasses of prosecco and enjoy the DJ who always played cheesy American songs for the crowd to dance to. There was an older gentleman there both nights who danced beautifully with whatever lady he could convince to join him, and I thought of my Gramps as I watched them twirl and twirl. He was a dapper dancer, my Gramps. Just beyond the patio was a carousel that was just begging for my attention. I obliged on both occasions and gleefully went round and round on "Henry," my beautiful horse. I said again and again "it's just like I'm five." And I guess that isn't a bad way to live...not at all.

Florence was beautiful and stylish and a place I could easily imagine living. It boasts more than 4,000 American students every semester, and it is easy to see why it is such a popular study abroad destination. I would happily go back; I think Henry would be thrilled to see me.

As ever, you can find more photos here if you'd like.

Next I'll tell you about a day trip to Tuscan wine country, and why it prompted both of us to say it ranked among the top ten days of our lives.

Italy Part One---Rome!

Italy was the trip of a lifetime, and to say that the country lived up to its hype is the understatement of the century. We vacationed HARD on this trip and made every attempt to immerse ourselves into the culture, get off the beaten path whenever possible and leave the country having really experienced the Italian lifestyle. I journaled throughout the length of our trip and took well over 1,000 photos, neither of which do the country, the trip, or the overall experience justice. I think I'll keep the majority of those details just for us, but will share highlights of each city and region we visited here, so you can fall in love with bewitching, amazing Italy, just as we did. Onward, then? Part One---Rome!

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We arrive in Rome early Friday morning, and although we have slept only briefly on the flight over, we are determined to hit the ground running, so as not to miss anything during our time in this famed and historic city. The airport is bare bones and simple to navigate and within half an hour, we are through customs, bags in hand and getting into our first cab. The 45 minute ride into the city gives us our first glimpse of Italy and we see countryside and a million shades of green rolling by. When we hit the city limit, a grin spreads across my face and although it still feels surreal, I realize that, holy crap, we are actually here. 

Our hotel is the only disappointment of the entire trip, and its expensive prices and somewhat fancy lobby do nothing to dull the unimpressive nature of the room itself. While large, it is dingy and features two cots shoved together, covered with a single sheet and a bathroom ceiling that is essentially an open grate, which prompts me to take Olympic paced showers for fear something will fall through onto my head. Our solution to this problem is to spend as little time as possible in the room, and we accomplish this with gusto. (We do briefly consider switching, but it is only two nights and we don't want to deal with finding a new one and lugging our things, so we decide to suck it up and move on).

We conquer the more "touristy things" first and hit both the coliseum and the Vatican and Sistine Chapel on our first day. The Coliseum is enormous and quite impressive. It's scale is impossible to capture unless you are standing in the heart of it, imagining the gore and brutality that was common place hundreds and hundreds of years ago when gladiators were the source of entertainment for Roman Royalty. I am struck again and again by the sheer history that surrounds me (this will happen almost constantly for the entire trip) and I can almost hear the roar of the crowd and smell the foul odors of the hot Roman summers mixed with sweat and blood and excursion. It is a spectacular sight and you can see the ancient ruins in the distance as well as remnants of other buildings all around.

From one slice of history to another, we head to the Vatican next and stop for our first slice of pizza at a cafe across the street. We eat on the steps and enjoy the sun before blending in with the line the wraps around the block and takes two hours to reach the entrance (and we are NOT there during the high tourist season, wow). It is worth every minute though, and really, what can I say about it? It is massive and gorgeous and sacred and opulent, and it feels like an honor to walk those halls and glance out over the expansive grounds. It is crowded and there are metal dectectors and gift shops galore, but somehow they don't impact the inherent grace of the place, and we explore it with abandon and dive in as though we are ancient scholars. Oh, and I (sort of) take a picture with Pope John Paul II, in my Mom's honor (he was her favorite Pope).

Photos are forbidden inside the Sistine Chapel, but its detail blows me away as expected. This is actually true of almost every church we visit the entire trip. They are breathtaking, and I can't imagine the experience of mass inside their walls. We stand in the vast and open St. Peter's Square and try to fathom what it is like when it is bursting with people waiting to be blessed and to hear mass by the Pope. All of my Catholic schooling and upbringing comes full circle, and I recognize the signficance of standing where I am.

Having had our fill of crowds and the "tourist scene" for the day, we head for the neighborhoods and just walk and walk, getting lost in the cobblestone streets and falling in love with the charming buildings and cafes and the sound of fast-paced Italian, all around us. We sit and enjoy our first vino of the trip, and toast our travels, happily people (and dog!) watching for several hours before deciding to walk to find the perfect spot for dinner. We have our only rain at just this moment, and a light shower mists the streets for half an hour. We stop at one more cute cafe before dinner and over a glass of wine, we meet Helen from Surrey, England and her daughter who are traveling together. I am excited because I know all about Surrey, thanks to the movie The Holiday. We chat for awhile and even exchange information, Helen inviting us to stay with her should we ever make our way to her neck of the woods. We hug goodbye and move along, and I think to myself that this is the best part of traveling---meeting people and sharing stories. 

Day two brings the Spanish steps, Rome's version of Rodeo Drive where I happily window shop in all the usual suspects (Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Versace, Valentino, Prada, you name it, they have it), and then the famous Trevi Fountain, where we honor tradition and toss coins over our shoulders, making a wish and ensuring our return to Rome (as is the legend, anyway). We throw in a massive museum and Mussolini's palace for good measure. And of course, I continue my love affair with gelato. It is heavenly, and I fear it ruins the general ice cream experience for me forever.

Rome is essentially New York City times a trillion with centuries worth of history bursting through every seam. It is sensory overload, with sirens constantly blaring, people bustling about, traffic whizzing by at break neck speeds, all blending into a cacophonous roar. It is very alive, with eclectic neighborhoods, a chic sense of fashion and a lot of hidden charm if you're brave enough to seek it out.

In short, we love every minute of our Rome adventure. And if you're so inclined, you can find seventy billion more photos here.

Next up, Florence. Arrivederci, for now!

24 Hours!

In 24 hours, we board our flight for Rome. Ah, let the grand Italian adventure begin! Vacation has officially begun today, and I am home from work snuggling the fur babes, plowing through laundry, packing, downloading books and songs and movies, and just generally getting very excited for this long awaited trip.

Chicago is supposed to see temps into the mid-fifties today, and if that happens, I'll have to add a quick jaunt to the park to my itinerary for the day. I'd say that is just about the perfect way to kick off a vacation, wouldn't you agree?

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of business travel, long to-do lists at work and at home, and an awesome trip to the Big Apple sandwiched in there to shower the BFF and celebrate her baby girl on the way. Apart from my brand new Frye boots shredding my feet into jumbo blisters on the streets of Manhattan, it was a lovely few days of catching up and anticipating baby. There were wee diapers and adorable pink outfits, yummy foods and jelly bean themed favors, old friends and new friends, all mingling to celebrate a sweet Mommy-to-be and her sweet baby girl. I left my camera behind and instead hid behind Ash's camera so she would have visual documentation of all the details (Hi, Wifey---send pics so I can update this post with them!). As always, the time passed too quickly and it is hard to believe that the next time I see my sister-friend, she will be a brand new Mama. I can't wait to get my hands on that gorgeous baby girl who is already loved to the moon and back by so many.

But first, I need to get back to my to-do list and go off the grid for awhile, but I promise to return with stories and photos of our Italian getaway.

Arrivederci/Ciao y'all!

A view I will hopefully soon experience in the flesh:

We'll toast you from afar:

Unrelated, but adorable photo of Jack and his stuffed friend:

My Windy Valentine

Hello, there. How have you been? Did you have a nice Valentine's Day? Did Cupid sweep into your home or office or car and impale your heart with his aimless arrow? I hope that he did.

We went to Utah for a long weekend, and I had my annual fix of zooming down mountainsides with sticks strapped to my feet. Snow Basin is a gorgeous mountain---as is every part of Utah that I've seen---and it features breathtaking peaks and sweeping views of valleys and lakes and other assorted outdoorsy fare at every turn. As I exited each chair lift or gondola, I caught my breath at the sheer beauty of the place. And once, I caught my breath at my own stupidity: it appears I was so obsessed with my surroundings, that I failed to notice I was willingly loading myself onto a chair lift that would deliver me at the top of the "expert only" mountain. I have skied a lot of mountains in my day, and "expert only" means different things in different places. At Snow Basin, it means precisely what it says. An alternate title might be "turn back now, April, for you have no business being up here. None whatsoever."

Several very tense heart-pounding-in-my-ears moments later, I had made my way down the steepest section of the mountain and was able to exhale at last. From there, I stumbled upon the most amazing, wide-open snow bowls I've ever seen. I was essentially alone up there, seeing maybe 10 skiers during the entirety of my ascent via chair lift, anxiety ridden survey of my surroundings at the mountain's crest, carefully negotiated descent down STEEP terrain and continued coasting along the remainder of my chosen trails. As always, music kept me company (and likely also prevented panic), and those hours on that particular mountain were exhilarating and freeing and the best form of stress relief I've experienced in a long time.

Up the chairlift I went, ducking my head against the wind, and then down the mountain I zoomed, grinning like the proverbial cheshire cat, oblivious to the whipping wind thanks to my helmet and goggles, reaching the bottom and stopping at last, laughing and panting and groaning at the burning in my thighs and knees.

I saw dogs everywhere, watched tiny, well-bundled children navigate those expert hills as if they were born doing it, which I guess they actually kind of were. I sat with my husband on a sun drenched deck and enjoyed a cold beer and fine people watching. It was so lovely to reacquaint ourselves with the sunshine, and it immediately prompted Spring fever to set in with a vengeance. 

Yesterday, we traveled home and scooped up the fur babes, who we missed terribly. And we celebrated Valentine's Day over takeout Italian food and yummy wine in the candlelit glow of our living room. It was our fourth Valentine's Day as a married couple, probably our eighth or ninth as a couple, but every single year, I think to myself "this one was my favorite."