“There goes that m-th–f—ing ice cream truck!” Dan, one of our gracious hosts, yells at a passing truck as we’re driving to dinner. Beautiful scenery, small town living, angry kria (artic tern), and missed opportunities with the town ice cream truck…this is everyday life in Blönduós. Blönduós is a small farm town in Northern Iceland,…
I’m in a cocoon, nestled in my duvet and a thick blanket. Something stirs, and I open my eyes. I can only see the silhouette of a man. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of my SUV, hot steam bellowing out of what looks like a stainless steel travel mug. He takes a sip. “Who….”…
The trail is still. Sweat trickles down my back, although there’s a ton of shade. Somewhere in the distance, I hear two women softly speaking spanish.
This story is one of my favorites, and the inspiration for my kick ass mountain tattoo. I’ve been asked many times what the tattoo symbolizes. I always have the same response. A grin, then a tale about exhaustion, two Icelandic mountain men, and a little bit of drifty magic.
She furrows her brow for a moment, scribbling down another name on the piece of receipt paper. “Lucy!” she calls excitedly towards the back of the shop. “Where else should she go?”
“This looks like a good place to stop,” I say to Morrie, turning into the Wawa parking lot. I park, rolling the back windows down a touch. It’s before dusk, and it’s much cooler in Virginia than it was in Wilmington.
I went for a drive during my family’s trip to Wildwood, NJ.
Morrie and I spent a night at Sandra’s, envying her Carrie Bradshaw-esque apartment.
Before last week, my knowledge of Palm Springs, CA was limited to one really bad episode of 90210.