Girl Trip: Santa Barbara edition a.k.a. An unwise amount of food.

Last weekend, I abandoned my husband and three kids and jetted off to Santa Barbara for the lowest-key “lost” weekend ever to be kinda/sorta misplaced. Okay, fine. P.J. was with me when I booked the tickets. He practically shoved me out the door. Because he knew- and I know- that when two important people in your life request a getaway, you go away (with them). Kat and Annie were among my very first Chicago pals. We were all of us {Read More}

5 ways my vacation and my home are very, very different.

Hi. So, I’m not fully back back. Our luggage is back, that’s for sure. (I’m pretty sure it found some friends and made some babies by the looks of the unpacking and laundry. The amount of pajamas alone are quite suspect.) The children are back and so are their parents- at least physically. Mentally, on the other hand, is a different story. There are exhausted meltdowns. There are 3am, 4am, 5am wake ups. There are floor naps. (And that’s just {Read More}

The Chatham Bars Inn, A.K.A. your new dream vacation.

And now, a new segment I’d like to call… Places I Need To Go To But Will Pretend I’m Writing About For Your Benefit: East-coasters know the Chatham Bars Inn in scenic Cape Cod; that turn of the century bit o’ gorgeousness which was originally founded as a luxury hunting lodge for wealthy Bostonians (man, if I had a nickel for every time I Googled that vacation for myself) and is now one of the top 100 hotels in the {Read More}

Parental failure: Apple orchard edition.

I’m starting to see a pattern. There are ideas- really, really good ideas- that get into my head. And even if they don’t jive with my current reality, once I’ve decided that THIS is the plan, then buster: We’re sticking with the plan. So when it falls apart spectacularly, I shouldn’t be surprised. But I always am. Loudly. With tears. Which brings us to Sunday! P.J. and I- we– had decided to go apple picking. In Indiana. Because we always {Read More}