Why Our Daughter Is Not On Social Media

In my last post, I touched upon a subject that is very personal and important to me and my family - the fact that Adam and I do not share identifying photos of our daughter on social media. I've never really felt the need to explain why (to the masses anyway - the people closest to us know our reasons and have been extremely supportive and respectful, for which we could not be more grateful). Honestly, the past eight months have been so full that it has never really crossed my mind to give everyone an explanation. However, as I start rediscovering all the little things that make me feel like myself, and how they fit into my new life as a mother (for I will always be a mom first before anything else for the rest of my life), I find myself wanting to express the things I care most deeply about through writing. So here we go.

Before I get too into the weeds with this post, I want to offer a disclaimer. I have many friends and family members who do share photos of their little ones, and I want you all to know from the bottom of my heart that this post is not in any way an indictment of your choices. I respect the hell out of all of you as parents and I recognize that there is no one right way to approach this subject. Plus I love baby pictures, so if you're comfortable sharing, keep them coming. 

Phew! Okay. Now that that's out of the way, let me tell you right off the bat what our decision does NOT mean:

A. We do not have anything against taking pictures of our daughter. Trust me, my phone is so full right now that I have to delete stuff every single day (Bye apps I don't use daily! Bye text messages!) so I can take more pictures.

B. We do not think we are celebrities. We know the paparazzi are not after us and our baby (although if they were I wouldn't blame them, she's that amazing).

C. We're not in a cult. 

What we ARE is fiercely protective of the most precious and important thing we will ever be entrusted with. 

Before I even got pregnant I knew for sure that I would not want to share hospital photos of any of my future children. I've always felt that would be an extremely sacred and personal time, and I wouldn't want to share it with anyone outside of my closest friends and family. I felt the same way about ultrasounds. I honestly felt a little bad every time we peeked at the baby ourselves at the doctor's. Poor thing was just trying to enjoy some alone time in her warm little bath before entering the bright, noisy, overwhelming world forever. 

Once the seed was planted, so to speak, I remember a conversation I had with Adam. I knew he shared my mindset about ultrasounds and hospital pictures, and I just thought I'd throw something out there. "What if we didn't share pictures of the baby on social media at all?" I asked him. His face immediately lit up, and he very enthusiastically expressed his support of this idea. I think he blurted out something along the lines of, "I don't want to!" It was as if he had been wanting to say the same thing but was worried that maybe I wouldn't be on the same page. Kind of like when we found out she was a girl and he said with a huge sigh of relief "Thank god." (after never giving me any indication of his hope for a daughter until that moment). The decision was easily made right then and there. Since then, we have discussed the finer points of our reasoning until we've turned blue. I'll spare you every last detail, but here are the three biggest reasons we made this decision and plan to stick to it for the foreseeable future:

The internet is a dark and scary place. I'm sure I don't need to drive that home too deeply. The thought of someone stealing my photos of my daughter (because no matter how conservative your settings are on social media, it doesn't take too advanced a hacker to get into your account and steal your photos), and sharing them in any manner of ways I would not be comfortable with chills me to my core. And pisses me off. A lot.

She can't tell us whether or not she wants her pictures shared with everyone. She's a baby. One day soon she'll be a toddler, and although she'll be able to talk, she won't have full-fledged opinions or beliefs or a sense of autonomy yet. She might grow up to be shy and reserved, and she might not want those photos out there. On the other hand, she might grow up to be a huge show-off and share multiple albums of just selfies. If she does that I will surely tell her I think it's excessive (and her dad just may lose his mind), but I want to give her that choice to make for herself. 

This time is special. The first year of Emilia's life is going by so quickly. It's a time we will never get back and we are just hanging on to soak up every precious second of her babyhood. Being hyper-conscious of this has made us turn a bit inwards and focus primarily on just the three of us. We've of course loved seeing our close friends and family getting to know our sweet girl, but that's where it ends. Call us selfish but we just don't feel like sharing her any more than we have to right now.

Although those are the primary reasons why we made this choice, there are a million other little reasons that we've found along the way to continue down this path. I personally love when she visits with someone she hasn't seen in a little while and they are overwhelmed with how much she's grown and developed. Of course as her mom I am very much attuned to how she's growing and changing, but it's fun to see the recognition of this in someone who hasn't been able to see her every day. Similarly, I love any chance to whip out my phone when she's not with me and show her off to my friends and co-workers, and see their reactions to my photos and videos in real time. It's the same concept that made me stop oversharing details about my life on social media. It's more fun for me to see people's reaction to the big things that are happening in my life in person.

As Emilia gets older,  I know it's going to get more difficult to keep pictures of her off the internet. She'll go to a playdate or a birthday party and another parent, innocently enough, will be taking pictures of all the kids with the intent of sharing them. When that day comes, Adam and I are going to have to get comfortable with vocalizing our concerns with other parents, and risk alienating or offending those who might not be as understanding as our friends and family have been so far, or who might just be sensitive. I mean, I totally get it. No one wants to hear "I'm not comfortable parenting my child the way you parent yours". I hope I'll be able to communicate to those who may be offended that there are probably things about the way I parent that they wouldn't be comfortable with either, and that's okay. If I've learned anything about being a parent so far, it's that you have to trust your gut. There are no perfect moms or dads, just people who love their kids more than anything and are doing their best to raise them right. I truly believe that can cover any number of parenting styles, and as long as your kids are loved and are physically and emotionally safe (and, you know, you're not feeding them a frosting-only diet), I don't think anyone has the right to tell you your parenting decisions are wrong.

Whew! Looks like I had more to say about this subject than I even realized. If you're still with me, I hope you enjoyed reading it, and that you understand our reasoning for keeping our daughter off social media a little better now. 

Peace, love, and baby snuggles,

Amanda

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall, Who Is the Mommiest Mommy Of Them All?

For as long as I can remember, I have shied away from competition. While that could sometimes be damaging, I suppose, I believe that it has served as a very effective defense mechanism for me for all these years. I am not someone who thrives on competition. Even when I am doing well, it stresses me out to compare myself to other people. This complex has become magnified times a million following the birth of our daughter.

One of the many things I did not anticipate about becoming a mother was the way in which you are constantly forced to compare yourself to other moms. Dads, you're great, but one nice benefit of the patriarchy for all you fine fellows is that you don't really have to worry about this. At all. If you're around and you contribute financially, you're pretty much the best dad ever. Don't get me wrong, my husband actually is the best dad ever, but he frequently gets praised by strangers just for having the baby with him in public on his days off. I on the other hand have withstood many a grilling session from strangers (mostly other women) on topics ranging from whether or not I'm breastfeeding (#nunyabusiness), to how she's sleeping, to how I should put a bow on her head so people can be sure she's a girl (yes, this really happened).

So this is obviously all kinds of wrong, but really, can you blame people? We are a product of our culture. Gender roles are very deeply entrenched, and I don't actually expect that to change overnight. It doesn't help that our media is saturated with perfect mommy blogs and celebrities showing off their tiny baby bumps in bikinis on Instagram and dishing about their perfect and totally pain-free (HA!) natural water births. If we go by what the media tells us, women are expected to have a joyous and glowing pregnancy, a calm and peaceful birth, and lose all of that totally disgusting baby weight as soon as possible once the baby is out (again - HA!).

With all of that being said, one thing I think people, especially us mothers, can do in our everyday lives to alleviate some of this crushing pressure is to cut each other some damn slack. Here are a few ways we can do that:

Don't give advice when it's not requested. The one exception to this rule is where safety is concerned. I think we're all willing to swallow our pride where the safety of our precious little ones is concerned. I'm talking about hard and fast safety rules, like proper car seat use, I'm not talking about your opinions. If you do feel the need to call someone out with a safety concern, use tact and contact them directly (i.e.: don't embarrass them by commenting on a facebook post for everyone to see).

Stop measuring parenting success by milestones. Babies are all on their own timelines. It does not matter if your baby sits up, speaks, crawls, or walks before or after another baby the same age. It does not mean they are smarter or that you are doing a better job than their parents or vice versa. There is no spot for the age at which they took their first steps on a college or job application. Just enjoy every stage, don't stress about what's next (*note to self - repeat, repeat, repeat*).

Stay out of people's personal business. I won't ask you what you ate today and then proceed to pass judgment on your diet, so please don't ask me if my baby is breastfed. It. Is. Not. Your. Business. I'm sure some of you are laughing right now because I have been very open about how I do breastfeed, but I'm talking about strangers. Not really down to have that conversation in the checkout line at Marshalls, thanks.

Respect boundaries. We all have different reasons for parenting the way we do. As an example, Adam and I do not post pictures of our daughter's face on social media. I know people think it's weird and someday soon I'll write a blog post just on this topic to explain it a little better (not that I think I owe anyone an explanation, it's just something I care about). Just be cool about other people's decisions and realize that everyone has their own reasons for doing things their way, especially when it comes to parenting. I don't tell people they shouldn't post pictures of their kids and I expect the same amount of respect about my choice.

Moms - I am so proud to be a part of your tribe. I know I'm new here, and I still have SO much to learn, but as the parent of a young baby I think my perspective is pretty relevant on this topic. Let's all give each other a break - we are certainly not guaranteed one from anyone else.

To Our Daughter, Seven Weeks Before Her Expected Arrival

Dear Baby,

By now you probably know the sounds and tones of my voice pretty well. There have been so many songs, so many little check-ins to ask how you're doing, and maybe a few desperate requests to sit still for just one moment so I can walk to the kitchen for a snack without feeling like someone is poking me with a jagged stick from the inside. I'd like to think those have been limited in comparison to all the "I love yous" and "I can't wait to meet yous". Yes, you know your Mama's voice quite well, and your Dad's too (by his own admission, he barely pauses for breath when he's around). What you don't know is everything you have already done for us simply by being your tiny, wonderful self.

I am a different woman than the one who less than a year ago sat nervously in a tiny, sterile room and told her doctor in a shaky voice that she wanted to try and start a family. A different woman from the one who lived even a single day without knowing you existed. You see, there was so much I couldn't understand before you. I thought of pregnancy as this sci-fi-y, alien experience. It seemed too strange and mysterious to actually be real. Now, while I'm still amazed and full of wonder, it no longer seems foreign. How could it? It is the most natural thing in the whole world, it is the thing that moves the world forward. Every kick, punch, and roll feels so profoundly normal, and most of the time I can even anticipate when it's coming. You're miraculous, but you were always meant to be. I'm talking about this particular you, not the one who could have been conceived on any other day, in any other year, at any other point in our lives. I know now why parents think their kids are so darn special - it's because they know that everything had to align just so for those particular little people to exist. Every child is so precious, so rare, so mind-blowingly individual; it's incredibly humbling to stand in the face of it and to know the gravity of the role you have played, but it also feels right, and organic, and like everything you've ever done with your life has lead you to it.

Although I've never been in charge of the well-being of a newborn before, I'm amazingly confident in my ability to do so (time will tell how that pans out, but based on evolution and how much I already love you more than most other things and people in my life, I think we'll all be okay). You have given me incredible confidence in my ability to follow through on things that are important to me. I notice it in the little things, like actually finishing the books I start, or powering through all the thank you notes after my baby shower in a single sitting (okay, maybe I stopped for lunch). It's in my desire to make our home welcoming and beautiful for you by planting flowers on our balcony and making sure they flourish, and creating a Pinterest-worthy name sign to hang above your crib with my own two hands. Perhaps most surprisingly, it's in my newfound passion for getting rid of things I don't need, reducing clutter, and keeping the apartment clean (although don't expect me to keep that up once you're here). I see it in your Dad too. It's in the way he excitedly put together your crib and changing table in a single afternoon, but only after dismantling his man cave without a single grumble, taking boxes upon boxes of his beloved but less-than-baby-friendly treasures to a storage unit all on his own so his 7-months-pregnant wife didn't have to lift a finger. It's in the way he did all of the housework during the first trimester when I was sick and exhausted, even on days when I wasn't working and he would come home completely drained from a 12-hour shift. It's in the way he has religiously told me how beautiful I am every single day that you've been in my belly, and the way I really believe he means it, even when I can't see it. It's also in the big things, like our plans for the future, and how we both know we'll do absolutely everything we can to make sure you have the best life possible.

You've already done so much for us, sweet girl. We can't wait to meet you so we can start returning the favor.

Feel

In one of my favorite scenes in Company, the show in which I most recently performed, Jenny, one of the wives, gets high for the first time with Robert and her husband, David. She repeatedly wonders aloud if she is feeling what she is supposed to feel, or if she should be feeling something else. Robert assures her that she doesn't have to feel anything. I particularly loved this scene because all three actors did a fantastic job of demonstrating how very differently the same thing can affect 3 different people.

I didn't realize it until I was thinking about it today, but this very concept beautifully sums up what I am taking away from the amazing experience of performing in this show. I mentioned in a facebook status recently that I felt I had grown as a person because of the show, but I don't think I really knew why until today. Funny how sometimes you just need a little time away from something that's meant so much to you to know exactly what it meant to you.

The thing is, I have always been hung up on the way I feel about things. I wonder if my feelings are wrong, if I'm feeling things too intensely, or not intensely enough. I worry that my feelings are different from those around me, or what people around me would feel if they really knew how I felt. It sounds tiring, and believe me, it is. It's at the root of pretty much every problem I've ever had relating to people. I'm definitely an introvert by nature, but this neurosis about feelings is the thing that kept me almost mute around new people all throughout my childhood and much of my adulthood. I've never wanted to be the one to take the first step in creating a new friendship for fear of making someone else uncomfortable, or experiencing rejection. I'd even venture to say I have some pretty close friends and family members who aren't aware of exactly how much they mean to me because I'm not good at vocalizing it.

Doing theatre again has been a very therapeutic process for me for many reasons. Obviously, getting the creative juices flowing again has been very important, and I've felt with every show that I've opened up a little more, and become a more honest performer. However, one thing that still had not happened before I got to this show was not only opening up to people, but vocalizing to them exactly why I thought they were great, why I valued them, and not leaving important things unsaid before we all go back to our lives and inevitably don't get to see as much of each other as we might like. In past shows, I have often felt the need to write cards out to my cast mates when the show is over. Inside the cards were words I couldn't bring myself to say out loud. I don't think this is a bad thing to do, and I know a lot of people appreciated it, but this time around, I didn't feel the need to write out cards. From the beginning, all throughout the rehearsal process, and through the final performance, the directors fostered an atmosphere of encouragement and respect, and the cast was more than willing to comply. I will never forget talking to one of the other actresses and speaking in high praise of yet another actress who wasn't present. She said to me, "You should say that to her. She would love it. I've always believed that if you have a nice thought about someone, you should tell them." That was definitely a light bulb moment for me.

I certainly don't mean to diminish any of my previous theatre experiences or friendships, or to imply that there hasn't been a culture of love and support in shows I have been a part of before, because that would be untrue. Indeed, there have been a few people in particular I have bonded with in a very meaningful way, and I've certainly shared pieces of my heart with them. However, in a more general sense, I do think that a lot of people are a lot like me, and don't vocalize everything we like and appreciate about each other. What are we afraid of? For me, I think it's that moment after you say the nice thing, a moment in which I am always tempted to walk away. What if that person thinks I'm being too intense? Am I freaking them out? Will they feel pressured to say something nice to me in return even though they would rather not? Guess what? Not only does that not really happen, it wouldn't matter if it did. You should still be honest.

Something I've been thinking about a lot lately as I become more confident in my adulthood is that I need to stop putting pressure on myself to be anything other than exactly who I am. I'm not saying I'm always successful in that, but at least now I catch myself when I think, "Well, so-and-so who I admire wouldn't do this" or "So-and-so other person will think I'm a tool if I do this. " I catch myself, and I remind myself that it doesn't matter what so-and-so would think, it only matters what I think, and how I'm going to feel about my choices afterward. I don't have to be anything like so-and-so, or behave in a way they would approve of. Likewise, I don't have to feel what anyone else feels, and I don't have to worry that any of my feelings are wrong, too intense, not intense enough, or what have you. They are feelings; it's impossible for them to be wrong because they are by nature the most honest things about me.

So even though I already told all of these people how wonderful I think they are, I don't mind repeating it. It might be old news, but I feel like I have to thank you all one more time, not just for the wonderful experience of performing in this show, but for helping me crack open a door that's been stuck a long, long time. Now it's up to me to keep pushing until it's all the way open.

The F Word

I remember part of a conversation I had with my college roommates at the end of my senior year. It makes me cringe when I remember it, but I feel it's relevant to what I want to write about, so much to my chagrin, I'm going to share it. We were in Rochester, NY for the annual lilac festival in May of 2009, and we stopped at a graveyard to visit Susan B. Anthony's grave. As one would guess in such a situation, the topic of women's equality came up as we walked back to the car, and I recall declaring, "I'm all for women's equality, but I don't consider myself a feminist." When prompted (with good reason) to explain myself, I said, "I guess I just don't like the notion that women deserve special treatment, or are somehow better than men." Boy did I have it twisted. One of my friends told me so, and though I doubt I admitted it at the time, my way of thinking on that subject started changing right then and there. You see, she said, that's not what feminism is. Feminism and women's equality are inextricably linked, you cannot have one without the other. Just because I, a 22-year-old white middle-class female, had not (at least not in a way I was able to recognize yet) encountered rampant sexism did not mean it did not exist.

The truth is that it is EVERYWHERE. It's in the way women are talked about, talked to, marketed towards, treated on social media, and perceived in general. Not just by men, by women too. Some archaic ideas about women are so ingrained in our society's psyche that they are just accepted as truth at this point. I'm thinking in particular of notions about women being overly emotional, shrewish, and unpredictable. The idea that we should be feared and avoided when we "get going". Yeah, sometimes I get in a bad mood, but so does everyone else I know, men included. It's become so ingrained that at this point, the moment a woman scowls, frowns, or maybe even commits the crime of having resting bitch face (I suffer from this chronic condition and can attest to the annoyances it causes), it's "Uh oh, better get out of her way before she holds up the nearest 7-11 for all the chocolate in their store." You see it over and over again on sitcoms, where the wife merrily and repeatedly plays the dutiful, efficient shrew who can banish her sloppy, breadwinning husband to the couch with no more than a peppery side glance. Real talk - I don't know anyone who has banished their significant other to the couch for leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to switch the laundry, or maybe even just being in her line of vision when she's on the rag. It's plain ridiculous.

An unfortunately common misconception about feminism (and something that I'll admit was holding back 22-year-old me from branding myself as a feminist) is that it's about women wanting to be like men. I can tell you that I have absolutely zero desire to be like a man. I love being a woman. I believe that there is a whole lot that is totally awesome and worth celebrating about womanhood, and the differences between men and women are abundant. It's undeniable. The reason you should treat women with respect is not because they are just like men (that in itself would be extremely sexist), it's because we are human beings with every bit as much worth.

Probably the most obvious example of why sexism is still a major problem in our society is the obsession with physical appearance. Even in the most basic sense, there are very different rules for men and women in this regard. Women's clothing is much more intricate and involved, and the emphasis on looking vibrant and youthful is something that is uniquely pressed on women. This means makeup, facial care, anti-aging products, expensive haircuts and color jobs, the list is endless. I'm not saying that men don't take pride in their appearance, or even that women should take less pride and care (let's face it, I love makeup and dressing up and that's never going to change), but the obsession with women's grooming efforts and fashion choices is a serious problem. I recently saw a story about a local news anchor who wore the same dark blue suit every single night for a year, while his female co-anchor wore a different outfit every night. Guess what? In a review of the comments on the the station's various social media outlets, not one person commented on the male anchor's clothing, even though this dude was wearing the same thing EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. It's because no one was looking at his clothes. They were listening to what he was reporting, as it should be with a news anchor. His co-anchor was not given the same professional courtesy, her various outfits and hairstyles drew plenty of comments and criticism. These standards permeate our culture, particularly the entertainment business, with female celebrities being constantly scrutinized for their fashion choices, haircuts, etc., even on trips to the damn gym. Hey, I know I'm part of the machine, I'm guilty of picking up US Weekly now and again in the checkout line, but maybe, just maybe, we should pay more attention to the work women are doing and not what they wore to do it.

The last thing I'll mention is that I think feminism means something a little different to everyone, so you can't hold yourself up to, say, an activist for women's rights and think that you by association cannot be a feminist because you are not doing as much as she is doing. You don't even need to have all of the same beliefs. For example, it would be ridiculous for me to look at women who do not change their last names when they get married, and think that because I did take my husband's name that I am somehow "less feminist" than they are. My reasons for changing my name had absolutely nothing to do my perceived equality with my husband. It was a personal choice, and one that I believe every married woman has a right to make for herself. I'm also thinking of the controversy over The Big Bang Theory's Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting's comments in Redbook on why she does not consider herself a feminist (which may or may not have been the inspiration for this post). She has every right to her beliefs, but I'm not sure she is approaching feminism in a healthy way. Whether she likes it or not, she is a role model for young girls, and I think it's damaging to say that it's "not really something she thinks about" because she's "never really faced it". First of all, I seriously doubt that's true. Even though she is in a place of privilege right now, she's a young, pretty, female actor, and I'm sure she faced a whole lot of misogyny on her road to success. I'd even venture to guess that she still encounters it from time to time. Second, even if by some miracle she has truly never faced something that is so ingrained in our culture, I doubt she is completely ignorant that other women have faced it, and continue to face it on a daily basis. To say that you don't care about something or don't believe in it just because it doesn't affect you personally is irresponsible.

Like any struggle for equality, this problem can't be fixed overnight. I think the best place to start is respect. Respect for your mothers, sisters, wives, girlfriends, co-workers, friends and even strangers. Respect for the integrity of the work they do, the things they accomplish, the things they struggle with, and the things that are meaningful to them. Sounds pretty simple, right? It is.

No Longer Forever 25

On my 25th birthday, I remember telling all my friends that this was my last birthday. Not in a morbid or foreboding way, but more in the vein of denial. I resolved that every birthday thereafter would also be my 25th birthday. I would not be admitting to ever being any older than 25. When I turned 26, sure enough, I cracked jokes about it being my second 25th birthday. Because who would want to be 26? That's, like, so old you guys. Well, 27 came hard and fast and the joke was starting to get old. After all, most of my friends are about the same age as me, and some are older, so the joke didn't just stop being funny, it also started to be kind of offensive. As I approach 28, and before I know it, 30, I realize just how very stupid the joke was, and I know I'll never make it again.

Here's the thing - I LOVE being in my late twenties. I think I'm going to love being in my thirties too. Life gets better as you get older. You get more confident, you make less excuses for yourself, and people take you more seriously. Also, you care less about how seriously people take you, or anything they think of you for that matter. I think that's the best part. Sure, I have moments when I find out how much older I am than someone I admire was when they accomplished something great, I discover that most of my cast-mates in whatever show I'm involved in at that particular moment in time were born in the 90's, or I remember that by the time my mother was my age, she had three children, and I cringe a little. That's natural. But guess what? I'm on my own journey. I don't have to do things in any particular order just because somebody else did.

Another thing about getting older is that I'm a woman, and I'm not supposed to. Us ladies are constantly bombarded with not-so-subliminal messages about the importance of staying youthful and fresh. Men, on the other hand, are revered as they get older. They are perceived as seasoned, mature, experienced, and alluring. For women, there is a very disheartening paradox in which we seem to be valued more as we age for our ability to appear younger than we actually are. How many times have you seen a picture of a female celebrity captioned with something like "40 is the new 25" or a magazine with cover stories like "So and so shares her secrets to staying young". We should really stop saying "she looks great for her age" and just say "she looks great". End of story.

Something else happened around the time I turned 25. I started noticing the little lines around my eyes when I smiled in pictures. Ever year, they get a little deeper and a little longer, and I know that trend will continue. When I first noticed them, I was horrified. I was too young for wrinkles! For god's sake, I still get zits sometimes. But when I think about why they are there, I'm not horrified, I'm thankful. They are there because of all the times I stayed up way too late with my little sister and laughed until I could barely breathe while she made incredibly strange prank calls to random phone numbers in our area code. They are there because of that time during freshman year of college when Adam told us the story about his friend's cat peeing on him in the middle of the night in that hilarious deadpan manner that only he can tell a story, and I knew as the tears of laughter streamed down my face that I wanted him to make me laugh like that forever. They are there because of the times over the past year when I have thrown my head back and laughed uncontrollably with recently-met cast-mates as if we were old friends. They are nothing to be ashamed of, they are the mark of a life of what in retrospection looks like an almost unfair amount of happiness. I'm not saying that I don't care what I look like. I believe in looking and feeling my best, I use an anti-aging eye cream at night, I'll admit it. What I'm saying is that I'm not going to panic. I look like I am supposed to at 27. As I get older, I will look older, and I accept that.

I know that some people might read this and think "Okay, 27-year-old, talk to me when you're approaching 40", and that's a valid point. I know that I am still pretty young by most standards, and that awareness reminds me daily to take advantage of all the things about being young that are so wonderful, but I am truly not afraid to get older. I look to my beautiful mother and her beautiful sisters, who laugh when they are together with a special kind of recklessness, I look to my grandmothers who are both so sweet and happy and full of love, I look to the maturity and serenity of the older women I have come across throughout my life as teachers, mentors, and friends, and I know there is nothing to scared of. There are only things to look forward to, only things to learn.

                   "I'll see you in the future when we're older, and we are full of stories to be told
                       Crossing our hearts and hope to die, I'll see you with your laughter lines"

And though they do not know it, all mankind are now your brothers

Lately I've been noticing posts about introverts popping up pretty much everywhere. Memes, lists, full-on articles, you name it. Suddenly, it seems, it's more socially acceptable to have a more inward-aimed personality, and it's hip to understand us. I think that's pretty cool, and since I have 27 years of first-hand experience being (not to brag or anything) a classic introvert in pretty much every sense I thought I'd join the conversation, which is something I am rarely inclined to do unless I feel that what I have to say is interesting or valuable. (You see what I did there?)

First of all, let me clear something up about this blog. I started it as a food and travel blog, because at the time I created it that was my jam. Don't get me wrong, I still love traveling and food will always be the closest thing to my heart besides a few very special individuals, but I don't seem to be going on trips and eating out as much as I did when I was 24/25. How Adam and I managed to then is a bit beyond me, given that we were definitely more poor than we are now. But enough about that. The point is, I need an outlet for my addled mind, I need to let things out that twist and fester and scream from inside, and just pouring it all out to a loved one sounds a bit cruel, so why not make it elective reading? Good? Good, let's move on.

So, introverts, what is they? Who are what? When is how? Let's start with what an introvert is not. An introvert is not just a shy or quiet person. While those qualities can definitely be and often are part of an introvert's complex personality, shy people are not always introverts and introverts are not always shy. I'll use my own experience as an example. When I was a kid, I was extremely, cripplingly shy. I was not only quiet around my classmates and peers, I actively avoided interaction with them. I didn't understand their boisterous play or their loud, raucous interactions with each other. This wasn't to say that I didn't want to be a part of things, in fact I desperately did, I simply did not know how. It was almost as if they spoke another language. For a kid this is not only confusing, it is scary, so avoidance often seems like the best option, and that is interpreted by other kids as weird, uncomfortable, unapproachable, etc. So a wallflower I was, and a wallflower I remained throughout all of grade school and through most of high school. What actually drew me out of that (at least a little bit) was getting involved with theatre and speech club, but I already talked about goddamn theatre and how much it's helped me in my last post, and if I start again I'll probably start openly weeping, and we can't have that. Stupid theatre, go away (except don't because I'm obsessed with you).  THE POINT IS, today, there are probably not a whole lot of people who would describe me as shy. Quietly reflective at times? Maybe. Occasionally hard to stay in touch with? Perhaps. But the most noticeable difference between 7-year-old me and late twenties me is that I can turn it on when I know it's time.

Even in my mousiest days I have always been kind of in love with the world, and the people in it. People fascinate me. This is going to sound really lame and sappy, but I am just so enraptured by the idea that within every living being lies the endless sea of emotions, impulses, and thoughts that I experience on my own. It's beautiful. It's poetry. It's magic. What's even better is that I have been fortunate enough to forge some really meaningful relationships with other people, and to me this is nothing short of a triumph. How am I that lucky? How is anyone that lucky? Because I want this and I need this, I force myself out there to interact with people, to speak with them, to know them.

So here's the rub. No matter how much I crave human interaction, so matter how rewarding it is for me when I get it, it comes at a price. Here's why. Interaction with other people does not always come naturally to me, except with a very small handful of people. As I mentioned before, it is almost like speaking another language. You always have to think a sentence (or two) ahead of what you're saying, and you are always running the risk of sounding like a complete and utter moron. I think this is why writing appeals to me so much, because I am in absolute control of what goes on the page. I think this is also why I'm so drawn to theatre (godammit), because when you are acting, not only are you pretending to be someone you're not, away from all your social anxieties and neuroses, you are operating in a safe space where everything is mapped out for you, and you don't have to worry about your words being misinterpreted or your actions being perceived as too forward, weird, etc. When I'm just speaking off the cuff, that is not the case. I can't tell you how often I regret the words that come fluttering out of my mouth. I am a chronic apologizer, over-explainer, and facebook status deleter (facebook statuses and texts fall under the speaking blanket, as they tend to be impulsive, and are the bane of my existence). So I think you can see how social interaction causes me some anxiety, and here comes the part with the cup metaphor. There's a reason it exists, because it's so true. I have a limited amount of social energy. I know some people do not, and I am in awe of those people. However, I have my limits. There comes a point for me at every gathering or interaction when I am just...done.  I wish I had more to say, I wish I had more to contribute, but I am done, and I cannot. The cup is empty, and it will not again be full until I have had sufficient Mandy time to recharge. I am not angry, I am not sad, I am simply empty. Done.

So here's what I've been driving at - introverts are a lot like extroverts sometimes in terms of our social needs. We like human interaction, we even crave it, need it. The main difference is that instead of it being therapeutic for us, it is, for lack of a better word, aerobic. It's a lot like exercise. We have to pump ourselves up for it, and while it can be a lot of fun while it's happening, and we know it's good for us, we need the recovery time afterwards if we ever expect to do it again.

Well I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole, I think I learned a few things myself. If anything, I  would hope that an extrovert reads this and realizes, "Wow, introverts are cray, I kind of dig it."

Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope?

But hush! No more.

And thus ends Banquo's soliloquy as he finally understands the full scope of what his best friend has done and is capable of doing for power, and in desperation asks why he may not hope to attain a place in history too when promises were also made to him. As anyone who has read or seen the Scottish play performed knows, Banquo does attain a place in history through his heir, Fleance, but himself is savagely murdered at Macbeth's behest shortly after delivering these lines. Tragic as they may be, I feel that they sum up my feelings on the past year. If someone else can, why not me?

When I was in the first grade, my teacher announced that we would be doing a play. Everyone would participate. The play was Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and we would soon be assigned our roles. I don't remember fervently hoping to be cast as Snow White, but I do remember when I was, and I do remember running up the front steps to my house, bursting with excitement to tell my mom that I was the star of the show, I was Snow White! After that, I was hooked. Our class performed one play every year. Some years I had a lead role, other years I had 2 or 3 smaller roles in the same show, but every year I loved it.

When I got to high school, I joined drama right away. I auditioned for the school's fall play, Antigone, my freshman year, and got a role in the chorus. I was fine with it, it was my first play at the school and I  thought that in time I would of course get better roles. This did not necessarily turn out to be true. I tended to get cast in the ensemble if there was one, and in the smaller, stranger roles (Gloria Rasputin in Bye Bye Birdie, Whore #1 in Les Mis, Mrs. Soames in Our Town). It stung a little to see my peers start to get larger roles while I was continually passed over, but I stuck with it, and I'm glad I did. I made more friends through drama than I did through anything else I did in high school. I was painfully shy and lacked self-confidence (maybe this was why I didn't such great roles), and if it had not been for drama I probably would have crawled into a hole and not socialized at all.

Then came college. When I first arrived on campus I started looking for auditions right away. Not the school's main stage productions, of course (while the auditions were open to all, it was somewhat of an unspoken rule that those were reserved for the school's acting students) but for the club shows. I quickly gave up on plays after I faced a few rejections, but did have some luck getting cast in student film and TV projects. As a Spanish major, I also got the chance to perform in a couple Spanish language plays. I will never forget one night towards the end of my sophomore year, I stepped up on stage for a tech rehearsal for one of these plays and felt the warmth of the stage lighting on my skin. I remembered it so well, but had somehow never been conscious of it before. It was one of the best feelings I have ever had to this day.

After college, my primary focus was settling into my new life living with my boyfriend, Adam, and getting a job, any job. Acting was forgotten for the time. Things progressed quickly with Adam as we fell even more in love, got engaged, and moved to Washington. Between planning our wedding and setting up a new life in a new place, it wasn't surprising that I didn't take much time for any hobbies. A couple years later, I found myself so homesick that I finally convinced Adam to move back to Massachusetts with me, and we again started the process of setting up a life in a new place.

Cut to fall of 2013, and finally feeling settled and grounded enough to start exploring a little, I resolved that I would go on a few auditions for community theater shows, just to see what would happen. To my great surprise, I got a role in the first show I auditioned for, ironically, Antigone, the first show I did in high school. Joyful and proud as I was, I knew the director had taken a chance on me. I was rusty and had chosen a very age-inappropriate monologue for my audition, plus my acting resume was blank for the past, er, 6 years. In any case, I was grateful for the opportunity to get back in the game, and took full advantage of my situation. I studied the actors in the lead roles, I soaked in their grace and poise, their articulation and their intensity. I thought to myself, I'm not there yet, but I could do that. If other people can do it, why not me?

Turned out I was right, I landed another role before Antigone had even finished its run, the role of Banquo (played as a woman), the author of the title of this post. I remember saying to one of the other actors in the show that I felt like it was a fluke that I got such a good role, but I was going to play it cool and just act natural. After that show I got cast as the lead in another, and have just learned that I will be performing in another great show in the fall. Every time I perform, in a rehearsal or in a live show with an audience, I feel myself become a little more open. I am still in the beginning stages, I think, where I discover by feeling and operate on instinct. Technique will come with time and experience, I am sure, but I know my choices get better and better. The mousy girl from high school is gone and in her place is a hungry, vivacious woman who actually has some semblance of stage presence. Being cast in certain roles has forced me to look at myself in different lights. Why shouldn't I be the lead? Why shouldn't I be the brave one, the beautiful one, the funny one, the one who has to cry? I still face frustrations and rejections (all actors do), but I am better equipped for them now. I realize that if I am not cast in something, it's not because I suck, it's because I wasn't right for the show, or at least the director's specific vision for the show. I'm okay with that. I can say, "Whatever, I'm awesome" and move on. Part of that is me getting into my late twenties and just not giving an eff anymore, but part of that is also the confidence I have gained in the past year, and that is a direct result of my return to acting.

I'll close with this - even though (on my more cynical days) I might see my involvement with theatre as a continuous cycle of running myself ragged, sacrificing any hint of free time or a social life, and having my heart ripped in two every couple months when a show is over just as I've begun to get really close with everyone, it has taught me so much about living in the moment. Performers crave the spotlight, so we feel some of our very highest highs up on stage, and sharing that with an audience and other performers is, aside from falling in love, perhaps the closest thing to magic that exists in this world. For me, this is what makes all of the work, the sacrifice, and the heartbreak worthwhile. Those heart-pumping moments when everything else falls away and you just feel totally and completely alive.

Mawwiage

If you know me personally, you know I am a hopeless romantic. You know that I value love above all other virtues, that I love my husband with every fiber of my being, and that even before I met him I mooned around waiting for love to find me. I am really all about the love. That is why I think it is so absolutely delightful that marriage really is ultimately what is bringing this country together.

I have friends in many different parts of the country, from many different backgrounds, but today I had the great and unmatched pleasure of watching the majority of them express a single emotion in one roaring, harmonious wave. It was joy, pure, unfiltered, unadulterated joy. Anyone with a facebook account can tell you - this is rare. Many (if not most) days when I log into my account, I am half-tempted to delete myself from that world of the mundane - of the attention-seeking - of the bullshit. Not today. Today I was reminded why I want to remain connected to people. Today I am proud to be a member of the human race.

Because no matter what we all may say, what we may put forth into the world, I believe that at the core, most of us are really all about love. We may claim that we run our lives in a practical way, and some of us may even succeed in doing so sometimes, but I do very firmly believe that our most important decisions (be they good or bad) are almost always driven by love.

As I mentioned, my marriage is very important to me. It is the thing in my life that I am most proud of, and the thing that brings me the most joy. I wouldn't want anyone to be deprived of all the wonderful lessons and emotions that come with marriage, should they have the brass balls to take it on. It is my fervent hope that very soon, no one will be deprived of it again.

So much has changed in our lifetime - look what we have done. Let's keep this going. Love, live, and let others do the same.

Princess Smoothie

I made an awesome smoothie this morning and I just wanted to share the recipe with everyone!

Combine in blender:

1/2 cup of nonfat or lowfat plain yogurt
1/3 to 1/2 cup vanilla coconut milk
1 banana, broken apart or sliced
1 tomato, sliced in 1/8's
6-8 frozen strawberries
Handful frozen berries
1 tsp chia seeds
1 spoonful honey (optional)

Blend to your preference and pour yourself the yummiest, berriest smoothie in all the land!

My Latest Escapade

It's been a long time my old friend...

I wanted to take some time to write about a big change in my life. For years now, I have been very conscious of fitness and health. However, while I have been health conscious, I have not fully committed to being truly healthy. I have made excuses, tried to cancel out bad health deeds with good ones, and yet have still been baffled as to why I am not completely happy with my weight, my appearance, and more importantly the way I feel. Doing an hour of cardio every day does not give you license to wreak havoc on your body in all sorts of ways, which I knew, but about which I was somehow in deep denial.

A few weeks ago I decided that I would stop drinking on weeknights. Fine, no problem, a baby step I could handle. It wasn't like I was getting tipsy every night, but a glass of wine after dinner was something I always looked forward to, so I replaced it with a cup of tea and all was well. Just from that step alone, and pushing myself a little harder at the gym, I lost 3 pounds in one week. Wonderful. However, I have a bad habit of wanting to celebrate my small victories, and before I knew it those three pounds had crept back on. Whatever, Valentine's Day was partly to blame, I told myself, I'll lose that weight again. This is just one small glimpse into my health and fitness life, a constant cycle of losing and gaining, gaining back a little more every time. I was suddenly very aware of all of this, and I knew something had to change.

I went ahead and did something I had been meaning to do for a long time but never seemed to get around to doing, I watched Forks Over Knives, a documentary based upon the work of two researchers, Dr. T. Colin Campbell and Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn, plus various other doctors and average joes giving testimonials. They all spoke about the benefit of a plant-based diet, and the harm caused to our bodies by consuming animal products. There were testimonials from people who had actually turned around cancer and heart disease just from switching to a plant-based diet. I was hooked. I watched a few more documentaries, Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, Hungry for Change, and Vegucated. I won't go into detail about the rest, but Vegucated and Forks Over Knives were probably the best in my opinion. I plan on watching more, and reading more. In any case, last Sunday I went to the grocery store and I filled that cart up with the good stuff. All kinds of veggies and fruits, nuts, seeds, and healthy grains.

I won't bore you with the specifics of my menu for the week, but it consisted generally of smoothies, veggie stir-fries and scrambles, salads, and fruits, veggies, and nuts as snacks. Lots of water too. I have also not eaten any meat since Monday, and I no longer intend to do so. I can get my protein and omega 3's elsewhere and I would much rather do it that way. I love animals too much. Anyone who knows me knows that it can completely turn my mood around to even so much as look at a picture of an animal, and after seeing a few things in those documentaries that I will not share here, I just can't eat them anymore. I had a moment when I was watching one of those documentaries, and some of the unmentionable footage was being shown, and I was just overcome with sadness. I looked down at my dog Helen, who looked back up at me with her sweet, concerned, brown doggy eyes, and I just knew. Never again. I've tried this a couple times before without success, so I know a lot of people won't take me seriously for awhile, and that's fine, but I know I'm done. And I will tell you, I feel amazing. Well, today I don't feel particularly amazing because I decided last night I would "cheat" and had a whole bunch of just about the only food I could consume at Texas Roadhouse - fried pickles. You can't really go straight to eating fried food after a week of consuming mainly plants and expect to feel great. Lesson humbly learned. 

So I'm a vegetarian now - what's next? Will I start to constantly reek of patchouli? Quit my job to work at a farmer's market? Grow out my leg and armpit hair? Who knows what will happen. I'd like to go full vegan eventually, that will be more of a challenge. For now I'll be focusing on trying to find local, truly free range eggs, local cheese when I want it, and more healthy versions of everyday products like flour. I want to start juicing too. As of today I am getting rid of Myfitnesspal and just focusing on eating healthy and targeting the right nutrient groups, you can't go wrong there.

To sum up, in general I feel awesome after this week. I have more energy, I am excited to start the day when I wake up, I look forward to eating instead of associating it with guilt, and as an added bonus I have lost 5 pounds. This time it's staying off, and will soon be joined by more weight I don't need. I don't have a specific number in mind, I'm just going to focus on healthy eating and getting a good amount of exercise and the rest will take care of itself. I feel this was the best gift I could give myself as I head into the second half of my twenties - a healthier and more sustainable way of life.

I welcome discussion, I know not everyone is convinced of the things I have become convinced of, but I do expect people to respect my choice, as I will respect and reserve judgment of your health choices as well. 

Stay well everyone! I hope you all have a marvelous weekend.

Mandy

Sogno Di Vino

It's become a bit of a tradition with me and my husband that when one of us gets paid and it happens to be a Friday, we treat the other to dinner. In recent weeks, this has meant a pitcher of Whoop Pass and some delicious pizza or burgers at Silver City Brewery. Don't get me wrong, I love going there, and pretty much everything they serve is a home run, but this week I felt the need to spice things up a bit.

Poulsbo is somewhat of an untapped market for us in terms of restaurant experiences, so I did a little research and was very excited to find a place that referred to itself as a "wine bar and ristorante", Sogno Di Vino.

This Italian restaurant is located in downtown Poulsbo, on Front Street. It boasts an outdoor seating area beneath strands of twinkling lights, but we chose to sit indoors so we could enjoy each other's conversation more easily (everyone and their mother was sitting outside enjoying the mild weather). The atmosphere indoors was rustic and peaceful. Brick reds and wooden browns bathed in soft yellow light give this place a warm, romantic feeling - perfect for a date night!

Alright, enough about what it looks like - on to the good part - the food and drink!

First, and most importantly, we chose a wine. Since this was an Italian restaurant, it was only fitting that we would drink an Italian wine. To that end, we ended up choosing Remole Toscana, a red blend consisting mostly of Sangiovese, a spicy red grape. It was described on the menu as "rustic and earthy". We both enjoyed it quite a bit, it was dry but not as dry as a Cabernet Sauvignon or a Pinot Noir, and it had a slightly sweet, fruity finish.

We were quite pleased when they brought us some freshly-baked focaccia bread to nibble on while we waited for our meal. I think every restaurant should do something like this, it really makes a big difference. When you're paying over $50 for a meal, those differences go a long way.

For dinner, Adam had lamb shank braised with orange and rosemary, which was served with mint-pistachio pesto, polenta and caponata. Of course, I sampled every part of his meal for the cause. Wow. I saw the lamb shank fall right off the bone the moment Adam touched it with his fork, and the flavor was amazing. I have to remember to pick up some rosemary the next time I'm at the store. Good lord it was good. The side dishes were all delicious as well, especially the caponata. I can't really even describe it but it contained olives and peppers and it was served warm - amazing.

I started my meal with a salad containing beets, strawberries, feta cheese and pecans. Yum! For my main entree I chose the Prawn Linguine. Oh boy. This dish consisted of big, meaty tiger prawns tossed with linguine and a tomato, white wine, and cream sauce. It was rich without being overwhelming, and I ate every last bite.

Although it was very tempting, we decided to skip dessert on account of our full bellies and the prospect of getting a more cost-efficient dessert at the nearby Central Market. However, I believe a pistachio creme brulee was mentioned. I think I'll need to go back for that sometime.

Clearly, this restaurant gets my stamp of approval. If I had to complain, I would say the prices are a little steep, but the food was so good that this wouldn't be a fair gripe. I had also looked at the menu ahead of time so I knew what we were getting into.

Buon appetito!

Voodoo Drag Queen Goonie Jacuzzi

Good morning! This post is about our most recent escapade - a trip that began in Portland, OR and ended in Seaview/Ilwaco, WA - with a couple stops in between.

We began our drive North on Saturday morning and arrived in Portland around 3 p.m., which was the check-in time for our hotel. I know I teased this hotel a bit in my last post, so here's the full deal:

The hotel we stayed at was called the Inn at the Convention Center. If you ever travel to Portland and are looking up deals for hotels on Hotwire, beware of the 2-star hotel in the Rose Garden Arena area. The price is tempting, but I should have sprung the extra $10-$15 to get us a 3-star. It wasn't like it was crawling with cockroaches and we heard gunshots, but it was extremely old, the elevator smelled like pee,  our room was connected to someone else's with a door, and sleeping was near impossible because of the light rail that passed what seemed every 5 minutes right outside our window. Oh - and we're pretty sure that we saw a hooker waiting for her client in the lobby. The one perk was that we got free parking, which is always welcome.

As for Portland itself, it was pretty much what we were expecting, a mix between Seattle and Ithaca, NY, where we went to school. After checking into the hotel, we took the light rail (which, while I cursed it through the night, was free) to our first stop - the Saturday market, where we walked among various food, clothing, and knick-knack vendors and munched on kettle corn. I couldn't help but be reminded of the Ithaca Applefest - especially when we passed some musicians performing to a crowd of hippies dancing freely in the street.

After the market, we made our way across town to the Rogue Public House. I was under the impression that we would be visiting the brewery, but was informed upon arrival that the brewery is actually in Bend, OR. They did have a whiskey distillery at the Public House but it was not currently operating - much to the disappointment of Mr. Adam. Oh well! We made the best of things - we were hungry so we had an early dinner and a pint. I had the Shakespeare Oatmeal Stout, which I must say I quite enjoyed. It was very rich, flavorful, and smooth. I've become quite a stout fan of late. I'm pretty sure Adam had some kind of IPA, since that's his thing, but they served it to him in a special goblet-type glass, so it may have been something else. Whatever it was, it was very hoppy. The pub fare was reasonably priced, nothing extraordinary but not bad by any means.

Our next stop was Powell's City of Books - pure heaven. We spent about an hour in there but we could have stayed much longer. They have every kind of book you can imagine, the store basically covers an entire block. They even had a rare book room - that was torturous. Almost as bad at the rare wines section at liquor stores. I considered buying an older edition of The Blithedale Romance, one of my favorite books by Hawthorne, but it was a bit pricey. It was amazing just to pick those books up and smell them though, I think that's one of my favorite smells in the world. *Sigh*

After the bookstore, we found a cozy restaurant (Davis Street Tavern) and went inside to share a bottle of red wine and some delicious lemon cheesecake. It reminded me of my study-abroad stint in Buenos Aires, when I would meet up with friends every Thursday night for wine and dessert. There's simply nothing better than that combination! I highly recommend that restaurant for anyone who wants to enjoy a quiet, classy bite.

On our way back to our wonderful accommodations, we of course had to make a stop at Voodoo Donuts, and we of course had to wait in line for 20-30 minutes. I was pretty proud of myself for convincing Adam to do that, he is most certainly not a line person. He almost made me regret it though when he loudly imitated the raucous laughter of the group of college bros in front of us - luckily they just got awkward and silent afterwards instead of trying to start something. Oh Adam. In the end it was all worth it because we got three delicious donuts each.

After settling back into our room, we spent a fitful night of semi-sleep in the hotel. We woke up around 7 the next morning ready to get the heck out. We made one final stop before leaving Portland, and it proved to be my favorite - The International Rose Test Garden! Of course, I can't go to a rose garden without being reminded of our wedding last August, so I was bound to love it, but this place was truly beautiful. Roses of every color filled our eyes and noses as we strolled hand-in-hand down the brick lanes of the garden. It set the tone for next part of our trip - the beautiful and relaxing seashore of coastal Oregon and Washington!

Our next stop was Ecola State Park and Cannon Beach, OR. Cannon Beach is where much of the movie The Goonies was filmed (think giant rock on the beach). Well, we saw that giant rock, and many more like it! On the other side of Ecola State Park was Indian Beach, where part of Point Break was filmed. I haven't seen that movie but Adam was pretty excited about it, and the beach was beautiful. Lots of surfers were taking advantage of the crashing waves, and the water was a lovely light blue-green color. After Ecola State Park we kept the Goonies torch alive and headed over to Astoria. We had lunch by the water where we had a view of the incredible Astoria-Megler bridge we would soon be crossing, visited the Goondocks house, and finally visited the jailhouse from the movie, which has been converted into The Oregon Film Museum. They had lots of memorabilia from The Goonies and other movies filmed in Oregon. We even got to "film a scene" from Kindergarten Cop. It was basically just Adam sitting at a table and saying "It's not a tumor!" but it was still fun. As an added bonus, Adam was (of course) able to identify quotes from 10 different movies filmed in Oregon on the wall and received a free dubloon from the museum gift shop!

Finally, we said goodbye to the state of Oregon and crossed the magnificent Astoria-Megler bridge to head to our bed and breakfast in coastal Washington. We checked in at the Shelburne Inn in Seaview and got our keys to the private China Beach Retreat in Ilwaco, the next town over. Our room was truly lovely. Everything that you would expect from a classy B&B - floral bedspread, floral wallpaper, a stunning view of the water, and my favorite - a gigantic jacuzzi bathtub! On our first evening there we drove to Shelburne Inn's restaurant to take advantage of our dining credit (by the way, we found this place through Livingsocial Escapes, which means we basically paid half price for our stay and received a bunch of freebies). Adam had a steak and I enjoyed duck on a bed of greens - we were both quite pleased. We washed it down with some delicious Pinot Noir and the inn's own amazing water infused with herbs, lemon, and cucumber. If any of you are friends with Adam on facebook you probably saw his status about the loud bigot sitting nearby ranting and raving for the whole tiny restaurant to hear about how agnosticism is the devil, college professors are brainwashing students, and there is something "not quite right" about Obama. Oh, and that's right, how happy he was that his daughter got into a horrible car accident because it "shocked her" into believing in Jesus. It took a lot of strength on Adam's part not to turn around and tell him a thing or two about a thing or two, I was very proud. Thankfully, about half an hour after we arrived, he departed with his friend, who barely got two words in during their "conversation". Phew! After that the evening was just beyond perfect. We shared some delicious chocolatey concoction for dessert and headed back to our room for the night. The next day we had breakfast and mimosas at the inn (if you ever go there their "Green Eggs and Ham" is AMAZING - think pesto) did a bit of sightseeing and visited a lavender farm. The lady who ran it was a bit offbeat but nice enough. We climbed the farm's treehouse, smelled a few varieties of lavender, saw some turkeys, chickens, and rabbits, and purchased some lavender sachets and fudge before departing. That evening we went to the inn's pub, where I enjoyed some Malbec and Adam got to try Redbreast Irish whiskey. After the pub we got a pizza and headed back to our room for a relaxing evening. On our final morning, we packed our things, had breakfast at the inn, and began our 3-hour drive back home, where our doggy was anxiously anticipating our arrival.

If you are ever considering a stay in this area, I highly recommend the Shelburne Inn and China Beach Retreat, the innkeepers are delightful, the rooms are gorgeous, and the food is incredible. We got our deal through Livingsocial but they also did one through Groupon and are considering doing it again in the fall, so if you use either one of these services, be sure to watch for it in your email! We had a truly wonderful time and are considering going back to stay in the Cannon Beach area for our 1-year anniversary in August. Either way, we both know we'll be back one day.

Upcoming Journey

I am so excited to finally be getting a little break next month! Adam and I both took a few days off in early June so we could take a mini vacation.

Our first stop will be Portland, OR. This is already shaping up to be an interesting night because of the hotel I (somewhat unwittingly) booked for our stay. If I'm to believe the many reviews I found on tripadvisor.com, we may be running into some ladies of the evening who make this particular hotel their office, and the elevator smells of urine and electrical fires. Joy! Oh well, at least it will be an experience. It can't be any worse than the Fargo Super 8, where we were forced to stay in a smoking room because of our cat, and where I'm certain at least 10 drug deals take place per second. In any case, I'm looking forward to exploring the city, I've heard nothing but wonderful things.

I'll admit it though, I'm more excited about our second stop - Seaview, WA! I finally caved and purchased one of those extremely tempting Groupon/Livingsocial deals for a fancy seaside B & B. We get a free bottle of wine with the room, free mimosas, and a dining/pub credit to boot. I LOVE B & B's and simply cannot wait to get my lazy, tea-sipping, homemade cookie-eating, middle-aged version of myself on!

Of course I will be writing a more lengthy and descriptive post once this fabulous mini vacation is over. For now I'm going to make sure I'm up to date on my tetanus shot and find wide-brimmed hat.

Until next time,

Amanda

Welcome to Every Little Escapade!

This blog is my chance to share my love of travel, food, and drink with everyone I know, and perhaps a few of those I do not. I won't lie, it's also the first baby step in my plan to start writing again.

Join me (and by association, Adam) in our many adventures, big and small. Whether it's an overnight escape to a B & B, a cross-country road trip (coming in September, ladies and gentlemen!) or just trying the new restaurant in town, I always have lots to say about the matter, and now I'll get to share it with all of you. So bon voyage, bon appetit, cheers, and enjoy!

Amanda