When we were in Ireland, it rained. Like, a lot. It rained as we wandered through the streets of Cork, and it rained as we explored Elizabeth Fort. After a while, we started feeling downtrodden and melodramatic, weighed down by the grey skies and our sopping wet clothing.
If you have a blog, and tend to pepper it with photos of yourself making out with your husband- AHEM. As I was saying, if you have a blog, and that blog serves as a thinly veiled excuse to post pictures in which you are mashing faces with your beloved, you may find that people…
I was in Oklahoma when the news of the attacks on Paris broke, but my heart and mind have been in the City of Light ever since.
We went to Ireland with our friends Wil and Nora, their son Rio, and the amazing Emily, nanny-extraordinaire (she also helped take care of me and Rand, which was nice). I took these photos on a rainy day while we walked around Cork. They simultaneously made my uterus explode, and also made me think that…
We just got back from Ireland last night. We spent the better part of a week driving around the country, outrunning storms and chasing rainbows (I do not mean to be twee – we literally did), slipping into pubs to drink dark beers and eat lamb stews. We went to the Cliffs of Moher and…
Last month, some dear friends gave Rand and me Fitbits. If you are unfamiliar with the product, it’s sort of like a pedometer, but more judgmental. It keeps track of the steps you’ve taken, your heart rate, calories burned, and whether or not you’ve called your mother recently. Mostly, it exists to make you feel…
I keep a notebook and pen next to my bed, in the event that a brilliant idea may come to me in the middle of the night or as I’m drifting off to sleep. If the ideas are good, they might turn into a blog post. But a lot of the time, they don’t make sense,…
A word of warning to my dear, loyal readers who keep coming back here (presumably because of some sort of court-ordered mandate that I don’t really understand): this entire post is about my lady bits. I’m utterly serious. It is not even remotely about travel. If you come back tomorrow, there might be a post…
We later reasoned that the costumes were probably there for kids, and not for us. The display in the lobby of the Royal Shakespeare Theater didn’t explicitly say this, but it was implied in the wording of the sign which cheerfully implored us to try on the clothing of Shakespeare’s time, punctuated by far too…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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