Hello Portland

Hello Newman.

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Well hi and a ho there!

I am officially blogging at ya live from Portland, Oregon. How mighty good it feels to be done with moving. All the annoying cardboard boxes are broken down and awaiting a she-she recycling bin here in what seems to be the “green” mecca. Summer clothes are hanging in the closets awaiting weekend trips to Canon Beach and of course, local pizza has been ordered. Are we Portlandians or what?

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The new place!

It all started last Saturday, when two movers showed up at our house and managed to fit all our worldly possessions into one moving truck. I drove the Jeep down early with the important, ULTRA fragile stuff (read: my makeup, perfumes and the 2 crystal wine glasses we own). I arrived to gray skies and a townhouse that had not been cleaned. SONOFA.

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Whatevs. We shoved the 5 boxes or so on top of the rubble (and I do mean rubble, the place was recently renovated) and headed out for much-needed drinks and food. Substantially woozy an well-fed, we blew up the air mattress we brought along for the evening. Our movers weren’t coming until the morning so we had to “rough it” the first night. And rough it, we did.

We went for a little walk around our surroundings and I looked like a regular doofus in m’white tenni-runners. The idiot that is me forgot to pack an extra pair of normal shoes in my overnight bag. Such a tourist.

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That night, I woke up no less than 38 times, as did Bryan. Our air mattress, while somewhat comfy, is definitely NOT the king bed we are used to. The next day when the movers arrived to unload the truck – my crazy mind decided it was the perfect time for a mild panic attack. So I peaced and left the boys doing what they do best.

After my walk and brush with hurricane Farrah (my panic attacks warrant the names of catastrophic weather patterns) I was back and BETTAH THAN EVA. Bryan and I spent the day leisurely  unpacking, having newspaper fights and stopping for beers on our front stoop petting our neighbors dogs.

I’M KIDDING.

Really, we were hot, smelly and already mad we moved here. I tuckered myself out after our lunch of Jimmy John’s and promptly PTI’FO.

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 That night, per tradish we ordered pizza for dinner and selected a place called Hot Lips Pizza. Later, it was decided that we liked it. Win! We ate delicious chocolate cookies that my boss sent me off with and went to bed with happy tum-tums.

Monday morning Bry had to go to work, which meant housewife Natalie got to show her true colors. And per Bryan, “she worked it”. I spent the day and I do mean THE DAY getting the place organized. We’re talkin 7:30-5 here folks. Of SOLID work.

Since our new place isn’t as, *ahem* spacious as our 2,600 square-foot house we moved from (imagine), I had to economize a bit. Which means that things like winter clothes, that fancy stock pot, or my 10,000 cookbooks are and will remain in a box. There simply isn’t the closet space for all of our clothes, winter coats, ski pants and all my tap shoes (kidding).Luckily, we have a spare office space off the garage we can use to store any extraneous items.

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What else did I do, you ask?

  • Re-folded and categorized each piece of clothing into neat and tidy piles, put away
  • Moved furniture up and down the stairs by MYSELF
  • Arranged the guest room (it is to die)
  • Completed 4 hip thrusts
  • Organized all beauty products according to function
  • Organized all makeup into my vanity
  • Arranged candle collection in drawers
  • Sang Baby Beluga by Raffi X 8

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By the time Bry got home from work that night, I was FINISHED. And he was astounded. I really wowed him, esp with the guest bedroom. I wish I had taken before and afters. It’s like HGTV quality. The second bedroom  might just be the crown jewel of our new digs, probably because I hung up all my girly stuff Bryan hates! tee hee

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And because Bry got a fancy new phone and I was feeling all proud of my work, I did a little room tour! (apologies that the camera is the wrong direction, I’m still a novice).

 

So here we are. Living in a brand new city. Getting lost all time and using our phones to navigate us two blocks to the Nordstrom. Realizing we live in a really cool area by the river where everyone has cute dogs and nice legs. Where we are surrounded by bars, restaurants and plenty of weird Portland-folk who have proven to be the BEST people-watching of probably my entire life.

What’s next? It’s anyone’s guess!

Til next time.

 

Time to Say Goodbye

It’s time.

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As I sit down in front of my tiny laptop to write this, my shoulders are extra hunched, my fingers are hovering rigidly above the keyboard. I am staring pointedly at the blinking cursor with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. How do I begin to explain in writing, a change that I can barely form words for?

We are moving to Portland.

Dun-Dun-DUUUUNNN. Yes. It’s true.

And it happened so. darn. fast.

In a nutshell, Bryan was offered a promotion (that we could not ignore) but the job was in Portland. Since we just bought a lovely new house, like yesterday, of course our first reactions were hesitant. How could we fathom moving out of a house we were just settling into? That we loved. That we still owed lots of money on.

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But really, the house was the only thing holding us back. Well, that, our awesome friends who we will miss, family and the SEAHAWKS. But anyway.

I won’t get into all the details of how leaving Seattle is alright with us. It’s an amazing place and one that we would love to return to, one day.  But other than the house, a structure in which we have resided in for the past five months, there is nothing tying us here.

So off we go into the great unknown! Residents of OREGON, we shall be. And I feel like I need to address the stereotypes elephants in the room straight away.

  • I will not be getting gauges in my ears.
  • Nor will I start to drink craft beer.
  • I promise to keep hangy beanies to a minimum.
  • We won’t start using organic deodorant and toothpaste.

Hahahaaaa. But seriously, while we are pumped for things like Voodoo Donuts, Co-op summer salads and all the other things that make Portland such an awesome, albeit weird place, we are wary of becoming obsessed with spelt flour, the Trailblazers and growing beards. You get it.

Any Portland peeps out there who share a love for makeup, little dogs and going on fabulous glamping trips?

If so, drop me a line.

Ski Trip to Whistler

OH CANADA!

Is it bad that I know only two words of the Canadian national anthem? Perhaps. Because a couple weeks ago, Bry and I paid a visit to our neighbors of the north in the form of an epic 3-day skiing spectacular!

We left early Friday morning, the Jeep brimming with all our crap. I settled right in to the passenger seat and navigated us fell asleep all the way there! We arrived at the Cascade Lodge around 2 pm and were able to check in early. Our room was somewhat modest, but did have a kitchenette as well as a fireplace and decent-sized soaking tub so all was well. We tucked away our brews, vodka and nerd ropes safely and decided to head out into the “village” to grab our ski passes for the next day.

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You guys. Whistler Village is just so unbelievably charming. Restaurants, bars, shops, all staffed by friendly (and mostly European) folks with lovely accents. Why does EVERYTHING sound more appealing when described by a dreamy, wavy-haired Aussie? WHY?

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After we picked up our ski passes, we went back to our hotel to get gussied.

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Such a snow bunny right now

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Obligatory fireplace shot

Then we naturally headed to the Irish Pub, The Dubh Linn Gate.

The Whiskey Richards performed (get it?) while Bry and I chugged our pints atop teetery bar stools. I did a jig. Because, I mean. Why would I not?

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I was dying to go in every. single. store but I had to practice restraint as Bryan does not fare well in crowded shopping situations. Especially at L’Occitane. Or Lululemon. Or anywhere besides REI. He did approve a quick stop-off at my absolute biggest shopping weakness – LUSH. The store was giant, empty and looked after by two of the most charming girls in the world. One had a British accent which of course didn’t hurt their cause.

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I picked up one solitary Rose Queen bath bomb and we were on our merry way back to the hotel.

Then we headed down to the hot tub. And can I just say, I haaaate getting in hot tubs at hotels. You start climbing in and everyone is just sitting there, safely under the bubbling water as you uncomfortably stammer down the steps and hope you don’t trip and accidentally show a little nip. Then you settle in and aren’t sure whether you should acknowledge that you have joined the tub, look off to the side or (like me) realize that someone has probably peed (or worse) in there.

That night, we walked around for a bit and then had dinner at Carramba’s.

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Bryan can’t believe it!

Really, we just wanted pizza and this place had it. We had a margarita and pesto + goat cheese. Delish.

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The next morning we woke up relatively early to attack our one and only day on the slopes. I was a nervous wreck, as the last time I had been on skis was 2 years ago. I reminded myself to keep a positive disposition for as long as possible. It was going to hurt. I would want to quit. I would be cold. So I sucked it up, got myself ready and we headed for the gondy.

The line was soooooo long. As a person who has only skiied at Jackson Hole and Sun Valley, I now realize how spoiled I was with lift lines. Since Whistler is so close to 2 major metropolitan areas, you end up waiting forever.

But the runs are worth it.

Right off the bat, I LOVED the fact that there were so many green runs. For any newbie skier or boarder, this is huge. Jackson Hole literally offers ONE lowly green run and it is super short. Whistler is massive and therefore, offers people a huge variety of terrain to ski. Like a good fiance, Bryan dutifully stuck by my side, reminding me to keep my feet on the ground (I have a tenancy to stand on my tippy toes), not pick up my skis as I turn and USE my poles!

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Look at those lovely greens!

I completed the first run and as expected, my muscles were screaming. I cursed the day I decided not to sign up for the free ski fitness classes offered at my gym as I shamelessly bent over my ski poles to try and relieve ANY pain I could from my legs. Despite the fact that I was wearing a modest base-layer, fleece gaiter and ski jacket I was POURING in sweat. And this was only the first run. MAN I wish I had taken a selfie with my hair plastered to my forehead for you guys. But there was no energy. NONE.

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After the first run, we headed back up and went in for a hot chocolate. Loosening my boots felt like heaven and I just wanted to stay there. Inside. With slippers and an iPad :).

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But I went back out and the next two runs went wonderfully. I was turning like it was my job (if my job entailed making beginner turns on corduroy green runs) and actually having fun! I even did some ski-humps <- air humping while skiing. It’s a skill.

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I was also starting to cool down. Mostly because my nerves stopped going ape-sh*t on me, and I started to relax into my boots a little. We had lunch in the most packed lodge of all time, seriously, it was CRAZY.My noodley legs were shot and so it was decided that I would download from the gondy. But we were pretty far from it. So Bryan grabbed a map and routed the easiest way down. What he failed to tell me was that it was about 218921371203 feet away.

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I started out okay, making decent turns and keeping my composure somewhat. But after about 5 minutes, my legs were just PISSED at me and I began to lose it. Any “form” I had went completely out the door. My ski tips were crossing and my pace was all over the place. Buckets of sweat were pouring down my chest and back like hot flashes on acid. My nose was a faucet, soaking my gaiter and then immediately freezing to my face.

 I skidded to a halt in front of the gondola and realized I was sufficiently upset. I was upset at my legs, my godforsaken boots and most of all – my sweat glands. I hastily muttered a “see ya” to Bryan, snapped my skis off and stumbled onto the gondola. While Bryan skiied for another 40 minutes or so, I rode down to the base, desperately trying to mop the sweat from my brow and pound out the muscle knots in my legs.

Somehow I managed to  schlep my skis back to our hotel, all the while muttering and cursing to myself à la Joe Pesci. I peeled the layers of clothing from my body and literally wanted to cast them into the fire. After a quick, warm shower, I slipped into fresh clothes and met Bryan at the Longhorn for my favorite part about skiing – après!

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A pitcher later and we we headed over to Citta for another round of drinks. When in Rome, my friends.

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Also found THESE BEAUTIES whilst shopping in the vill:

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Afterwards, we headed back to our hotel so we could get in a good amount of hot tub time. Well, the tubs were PACKED. It was like cesspool of sweaty snowboarders who smelled like ham and cheese. NO THANKS. Instead, I opted to utilize my new bath bomb in our room and take my relaxi-taxi there.

And the Rose Queen bath bomb is just that. The BOMB.

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That night, Bryan and I prepped ourselves to “go out”. 22 year old style. We were determined to prove to our 30-year-old selves that we still had it, goddammit. So, we began by taking naps at 6:30 PM. We each slept for about an hour and then took showers and got ready.

After TEE SHIRT TIME (teehee) we ventured to Village Sushi for dinner. The wait was long – nearly 45 minutes, but the food was great and also a good price. We were seated around 9:30 PM and finished eating around 10:30. Whistler is like, très European. Restaurants still take reservations at 10:30 PM and aren’t pushy about getting their tabes turned. We felt SO cool finishing our dinners at 10:30.

After dinner, we headed to the Irish Pub …again, and had a few burrs. Once we felt sufficiently tipsy, we decided we were juuuust inebriated enough to attack da “club”. So, we went to Garfinkles and immediately ordered a vodka + redbull. As you can probably guess, things just got hilarious. We danced a little, we people watched. Twas magical.

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Around 2 AM, we left the club and it was just about that time for SECOND DINNER. I shuffled back to the hotel, drank 7 glasses of water and peeled off my false eyelashes while dear Bryan braved the cold (at my insistence, haha) to pick up a Dominos. I scarcely remember stuffing 4 pieces in my mouth and then promptly PTFO.

I was then rudely reminded of my 30 years of age around 4 AM. Standing up, my head pounded, my feet ached and my hands were trembling. After a 5 minute teeth scrubbing and thorough floss, I popped in my mouth guard like the teeth-grinding, adult that I am. 123894 more glasses of water. 4 IB’s. And sleep. Lots of it.

The next morning we begrudgingly got out of bed and dragged our sorry asses out for coffee. Although I was surly and sick, I felt a pang of pride. I did it!

We went to Purebread for coffee + pastries and my hangover raged as the boy behind the counter told me they didn’t offer brewed coffee. Espresso only. ‘Scuze me, Broseph, an americano IS NOT the same as a slow roasted cuppa drip. You don’t know who are dealing with, sir.

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We shared an apricot + vanilla bean scone which was heavenly and then went back to the hotel to get ready for our day. A stop at Starbucks was necessary after our subpar americanos and I gulped down a venti water. We strolled along for some time, popping in various shops and relishing the beautiful day.

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Respect the Chemistry Point

We stopped for lunch at the Brew Pub and were lucky enough to get a table right next to the fire! We had a burger with fries and a salad and all I could think about was that it was NAP TIME. I convinced Bry to go back to the hotel where we had a hot tub and snoozed for a couple of glorious hours.

After I woke up, I determined the only cure for the hangover I STILL had was of course, more LUSH products. So, we walked down to the shops and I scored this amazing set which I had a gift card to nearly cover the cost of (thanks KC and Bry!):

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I took a bath and we headed out for dinner around 8 to Araxi. We ended up getting a seat in the lounge and having a witty french server who blinked alot. I loved him. We had this delicious appetizer:

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Dungeness Crab Roll in Egg Crepe
wrapped with cold smoked wild salmon, watercress and yuzu mayonaise in an egg crepe with avocado and tomatillo salsa verde

And Bryan ordered the sablefish as his entree. I stuck to the butternut squash soup, 7,000 rolls with butter and plenty of water. Dinner was really lovely with the snow slowly falling outside the windows. After dinner we REALLY wanted the ice cream at Cow’s but they were just closing :(.

The next day we left town after a quick breakfast at BG Urban Grille. Whistler got a ton of snow on Sunday and Bryan definitely DID NOT want to leave. But contrary to how we acted the night prior, we are adults. Who have jobs. And mortgages. And horrible hangovers.

Til next time, Canada!

30

Happy Birthday to ME.

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As you may or may not know, today happens to be my 30th birthday. A fact I am equal amounts happy and sad about. With a dash of anxiousness. It’s the end of an era. Thirty years, I have walked this earth, several of those hopefully with a little gumption. A positive attitude kept, dreams dreamed and realities realized.

I am tentatively approaching this new path before me like a young fawn, if you will,  stumbling awkwardly with naivete and without grace. I shall cling to the familiarity of the ground below me and the sky above, as I always have. I will make my way down the path no doubt, but not without my share of bumps, twists and turns. Thirty. THIRTY. What will this decade hold?

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Cocktails, that’s what.

Ok ENOUGH woodland creatures and nature analogies. I ask myself, can I enjoy this decade of mortgages, Pepcid AC and realizing I can no longer shop at Forver 21? Maybe I will and MAYBE I WILL. Here are other things I plan to enjoy whilst in my 30’s:

  • Being one of those cool old people who can talk about hashtags, instagram and how to beat level 252 on Candy Crush.
  • Involving myself in conversations with people in their 40’s and being like, “Who is Debbie Gibson?”
  • Hugging servers when they ask to see my I.D
  • Finding like, the sweetest diaper bag
  • Getting super excited over discovering Ralph Lauren 600 thread count sheets in the clearance section of T.J Maxx
  • Staying ahead of the curve with baby names…I hear Stephanie is making a comeback in 2015
  • Seeing the faces of teenagers when I tell them I didn’t have a cell phone in college
  • Subsequently realizing how awesome it was that boys had to talk to my Dad when they called my house and ask, “Is Natalie home?’ when I was in high school. So presh.
  • Cringing at the amount of Jaeger I was able to drink
  • Scolding people when they don’t wear sunblock
  • Getting way, way, way too excited when Downton Abbey is on
  • Exploring the world of SPANX

Gah! The list could go on and on.

Now – I am off to drink champagne and take selfies.

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 Have a great holiday!

It’s the Holiday Season

…with the whoop-de-do and hickory dock!

One thing I most love about this holiday, besides the obvious piles of presents, libations, and fattening treats is easily the decorating.

Speaking of decorating, Bry and I got our very first Christmas Tree together. And ya know Bry, we weren’t about to drive down to the Boy Scouts Christmas tree sale and fork over $100 for a 7′ tree. We did what any mountain trolls ‘ folks would do, we hiked up our ski pants and headed into the hinterland. But not before grabbing a doughnut first.

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My doughnut OMG

As we approached the forest-service roads leading up to the area believed to contain the noble-firs (or just nobles, to us), we were cautioned to chain up.

Chain up?! We smiled politely at the ranger and chuckled at his naive Washingtonian sentiment. This ISN’T our first rodeo. The likes of us have seen ice’thick as a window pane down in Wyomin’. Ok I’ll stop acting like I’m a hard-core ranch hand and not afraid of icy roads now.

We made our way up the hill and found ourselves a parking spot with relative ease. The only way to describe what the ranger had described as a “hill” where the nobles sat, is to utilize Microsoft Paint. An understated, yet incredibly handy tool.

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As you can see from this highly sophisticated imagery, the “hill” was actually a MOTHERF-ING mountain. And the good trees were pretty high up.

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Per usual, Bryan Legolased up the snowy hill as if walking on a bed of pillows. I, on the otherhand, took the Gimli approach and trudged up that hill with the grace of well, a troll. Sorry for the LOTR references by the way, sometimes they are just SO applicable.

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Its Meeeeeeeeee

Anywho – after hiking more than 1,000 vertical feet, we found a tree that looked good and so we chopped it down. Then we busted out the hot chocolate, copped a squat in the snow and took in the truly breathtaking view.

Dragging the tree down to the car, we finally got a look at what we had worked so hard for. Two words come to mind. Sparse and disproportionate. Nonetheless, we happily tied her to the top of the Jeep and made our way home with smiles on our faces and a new Christmas memory in our hearts.

And here she is, in all her skinny, mis-shapen glory:

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With ‘er Sunday best:

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Unfortunatley she did tip over in the middle of the night a couple days ago.I think it was the fact that she only really has branches on one side. And I may or may not have tied extra branches (broken off from other trees) to her existing branches to make them appear fuller…

Say what you will about NADINE (as I have now appropriately named her). She smells wonderful and is happy to provide our new home with loads of holiday cheer, a great story and sap. Lots and lots of sap.

Maui Extravaganza

I’ve got two tickets to paradise! Pack your bags, we’re leaving the day-after-tomorrow!

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Oh, Mr.Scott!

So, YEAH. We got back on Sunday and no part of me was ready for returning to this season of leaves, pumpkins and people dressing up as Miley Cyrus for Halloween.

Not to worry though. I have my wonderful sunburns mems to keep me warm! And really, I’m kidding. This girl did not get one, solitary sunburn. Save for a slighter beiger shade of, well, beige and a few freckles splashed across my nose – I remain your loyal, pasty-white internet friend.

I am scheming up a few different posts to break up what I fear could be a post longer than the script of Hoop Dreams, for your reading pleasure. Indeed, a grand synopsis will kick-off this whirling dervish of sand, sun and of course, rum.

We arrived in Maui on Friday. Our complimentary drinks at the United Club Room pre-flight made for an excellent way to pass the time during the 5.5 hour trip by (you guessed it) sleeping. Drinks at 9 am? YES.

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The air in Hawaii is my favorite air. If the air they sold in that movie The Lorax was from Hawaii, I would be their #1 customer. The thick humidity may as well be 1,000 plumeria-scented baby fairies, kissing my entire body. Now, THERE’s a visual. But you get the idea, I LOVE it.

We fell into our usual (usual. ha. this was only my second visit) routine of hitting Costco to stock up on necessities booze for the 9 glorious days ahead. $175 later we had in our cart:

  • 2 kinds of chips
  • Salsa
  • Booty
  • Bread
  • Cheese
  • Pineapple
  • Bag o limes
  • Bag o lemons
  • Handle of vodka
  • Handle of tequila
  • 24 cans of Bud Light

‘cessities

We stayed at the Kapalua Villas on Maui. They was nice.

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The trip was full of discovery.

Like discovering the amazing beaches we were right next to.

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*Not my photos, obvi.

Or grosser things like the teeny tiny geckos that speckle the sidewalks and don’t move until your foot is literally 1 centimeter away from it.

Discovering the fact that you can’t leave even 1 solitary piece of booty on the counter or else ants will come.

I discovered that I love the show LOCKUP because seeing these people makes any problem you have just melt away.

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I discovered that spending a day at the Kapalua Spa is what heaven must be like. READ: waterfall shower, sauna, steam room, unlimited towels, robes, spa slippers, high-end sunblock, and body care products. I almost brought zip-lock baggies and just pumped away at that free lotion.

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Oh! And one other thing. All week, we kept noting the crazy amount of runners and cyclists around the hood. I know Maui is conducive to runners and other exercise enthusiasts, but the staggering numbers of all these fit beings led us to believe something fishy was going on.

Well, we were right.

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The supposed islands of curvaceous, tanned hula girls was now inundated with the thin, muscular silhouettes of professional triathletes from all of the world. Men in teeny speedos yelling “Ciao!” with the confidence of Peter Jackson at an Elf Convention.

We were able to watch the beginning of the triathlon before we left on Sunday, which began with a 1-mile “rough water swim”. As the frail bodies emerged from the water, making their speedy transitions on to their pristine mountain bikes I looked down at the small stomach ponch that had formed just above the waistline of my shorts…and then I had another margarita 🙂

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I also happened upon some re-discoveries.

Like the fact that my fiance is THE BEST bartender this side’the Mississippi.

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THESE COOKIES.

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And the fact that I still enjoy dancing to Britney Spears solo after 2 margaritas.

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That hammocks are simply great.

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And so are lava flows.

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I re-discovered how hard it is to completely remove sand from all crevasses of the body.

That IZ has a voice that could bring world peace.

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I re-discovered why I love this beautiful, lush island. Oh, and wore this tank:

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Aloha for now! And mahalo 🙂

Spray Park Hike

Helllllo lovelies!

Today I am here to introduce you to my newly discovered hiking essential – wine. Hiking with wine (wiking?) is actually fairly simple and involves the following essential elements:

  • a hiking trail
  • wine

It all started with an innocent Christmas present which Bryan bestowed unto his Dad – “a fully chauffeured and personally-guided hike with views of Mt. Rainier and  gourmet picnic lunch”. I figured wine would play a part in the lunch, as neither Bryan nor I are strangers to consuming beer, wine and the like whilst climbing up a mountain – and well, it did.

Our Sunday began as so many do, with Starbucks and plenty of excited chatter about the day’s events. We reached the overflowing parking lot at Mowich Lake around 10:30 am and laced up our shoes. Half a can of bug spray later, we were ready to embark. Oh, and I carried Bryan’s smaller Dakine backpack which smelled heavily of boy and made me feel SO core.

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Bry and his Dad stayed close and far ahead as Mary and I lagged behind. But whatevs, we totally caught up on our wedding talk so all was well. Per usual, Bry’s description of the hike as “an easy 3.5 miles with only 1,500 feet of elevation gain” seemed ludicrous as I puffed my way up-hill, trudging switch back after switch back. Thanks alot BRYAN.

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We then learned that there was a BEAR on the trail. A bear.

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Holly Coleman’s Biggest Fear

This photo is from National Geographic. Not the actual bear on the trail, but you get the idea.

I began to flip out when it dawned on me how everyone else seemed so relaxed about the idea that a behemoth, 250 lb. flesh-ripping beast was in our midst. One guy actually took pictures of it from mere yards away!

If living in Jackson Hole, Wyoming taught me anything it was to drink whiskey fear bears. People carry sprays, wear bells and even blast music to prevent the inevitable nightmare of surprising a bear, or worse, bears in the wilderness. But here in Washington, people were actually hoping to see it and maybe, horror of horrors to PET it.

I realize black bears are not as aggressive or as large as grizzlies (which are native to Jackson Hole) but, come on. They are still wild animals – have we learned nothing from Grizzly Man??

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Other than the fact that his beanie was a bad choice?

After a few more twists and turns, I was elated at the sight of Bryan setting his backpack down and unloading our lunch. Yay!

We had turkey, pesto and provolone sandwiches on delicious ciabbatta rolls, Tim’s Cascade potato chips and dun-dun-dun-DAAAHH – Wines. 2 bottles 🙂 These are the times where I truly appreciate my crazy mountain climbing fiance who carried our jackets, water bottles, lunch and 2 bottles of wine in his pack.

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The weather took a slight turn for the worse, clouding the magnificent view of Mt. Rainer but ’twas no bother. Our glasses of wine kept us warm and happy.

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We parked ourselves atop a warm rock (yes, it was warm), happily ate our lunches and each drank 2-3 glasses of wine. And then…things got fun. Not only were we doing my favorite part of any hike (the way down) but I had a nice bod-buzz to stay loose and entertained.

We happened upon this beautiful waterfall and stood, amazed.

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photo (13)The way out was a breeze! Before I knew it, we were back in the car and I was fighting the urge to snooze. Then I discovered that I had about 3 mosquito bites on each shoulder #FAIL so I tried to discreetly scratch them so that Bry wouldn’t scold me.

I alllways itch my bug bites. Can’t help it.

After we bid my soon-to-be in-laws adieu we made the healthy decision to order a large cheese pizza from Frankies and I bought a liter of Diet Coke. Ajsa!hsdb* I know it’s bad.

Another successful adventure in the Pac N-Dub.

Go me.