travel
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A love letter, a warning label, and a plea for the place I call home… This question hit me in the gut this morning: what would make Waynesville, Georgia a better place, what would make it instantly better… Not better in the shiny brochure way. And nothing would make it instantly better. Not better as…
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Some people hear the call of the open road deep in their bones. Others hear the call of their own couch and answer it with a blanket, a snack, and no apologies. We are all different that way, and honestly, the couch people may be onto something. For those of us who do like to…
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Airports are funny places. Not funny as in “ha-ha, what a relaxing afternoon,” but funny as in “how did I end up powerwalking past a sushi bar, a luggage store, a coffee shop, a gift shop, three people on speakerphone, and a restroom line long enough to qualify as a parade?” They are the places…
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I have always been a walker and a looker. Some people walk for exercise, some walk to clear their heads, and some walk because the dog has made it abundantly clear that the house is no longer acceptable. I walk for all those reasons, I suppose, but mostly I walk because the world keeps leaving…
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A love letter to the places that feed both body and soul… Asking someone to name the best restaurant in town is a little like asking them to name the best song ever written, the best porch to sit on, or the best way to make cornbread. You can try to make it official, you…
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Some meals blur into the hum of travel. Others arrive with a silver spoon, a rainstorm, and a dessert that literally catches fire. I still remember my first brunch at Brennan’s in New Orleans as if the courtyard were framed in glass just for us. We were on vacation in our motorhome, headed toward Mexico,…
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There are people who pack a bag because they have to, and then there are people like me—people who have been quietly packing imaginary suitcases since childhood. Travel has always had a little corner of my heart, probably tucked somewhere between a road map, a bag of snacks, and the sound of tires humming down…
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Reading has always been a form of travel for me. I can be sitting in my favorite chair, wearing socks that absolutely do not match, and suddenly I am walking cobblestone streets, crossing windswept fields, or standing at the edge of some ancient cliff with my imagination doing all the heavy lifting. Books do that.…
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If I had to be an animal for exactly one week—not forever, not for tax reasons, just one weird magical trial period—I would absolutely be an otter. Not a lion. Not an eagle. Not one of those majestic horses in perfume commercials. An otter. Why? Because otters seem like they have cracked the code to…
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If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? That sounds like such a simple question, doesn’t it? The kind you might answer over coffee, or while staring out a window, or while scrolling through photos of places where the grass is suspiciously green and nobody ever seems to have laundry piled…
