Category Archives: travel

New year, new goals

Posted on 2 January 2012 | Leave a comment

I think it’s a blogging requirement to write about the new year. Never one who likes to miss the bandwagon, I’m jumping in with some of my own goals for 2012. (“Resolutions” is such a loaded statement which I think makes them easier to break.)

1. Continue my week-long work out marathon. I don’t know if working out four times a week is so much a marathon as the amount recommended by the CDC.  Regardless, I’d like to keep it up. Right now I’m just sweating my ass off in my apartment’s gym, but soon I’d like to venture out into the world of people who exercise and get back into yoga.

2. Continue exploring Cleveland. I’ve taken to my new city like a fish to water, but there’s still a lot more I’d like to see in 2012. I’ve still never gone to the Cleveland Art Museum or the Cleveland Zoo. Both will be great for the warmer months, which seem very far away in the midst of this current lake-effect snow.

3. Blog more. This is an ongoing goal but even more so now. You’ll probably notice I’ve made some changes around here on Fact not fiction. Besides updating the design and posting more pictures, the kind of posts I’m writing have changed. Food, fashion, lists, etc. are all becoming more prevalent on here. It wasn’t even a conscious change. This year I began discovering some amazing blogs that have no doubt influenced my own blogging style. I never wanted to just be a foodie blogger or a fashion blogger, but I am incorporating more of those and other things I love into Fact not fiction. I’m excited to see where it goes.

4. Save money.  This is probably the hardest of all my goals. I’ve never been a great saver, and my new life in Cleveland has turned that upside down. After all, with a full-time jobs comes great heaps of bills. It’s definitely a trial by error process when it comes to figuring out a budget but I can only get better.

5. Travel. I’ve got a passport (with a surprisingly decent picture) and no stamps. It’s time that changes. I’ve never even been to Canada. How sad is that? Again another long time goal, considering I can’t just fly off to Paris anytime I want. (See goal #4.) Of course, this isn’t limited to international travel. There are a million places I want to go in the U.S. from San Francisco to the Grand Canyon. I’m starting small with a trip to visit the Laura Ingalls Wilder Home and Museum in Missouri this September.

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The house that launched the wedding file

Posted on 16 August 2010 | Leave a comment

I did something yesterday that was so outrageous, so completely not me, that I’m still trying to come to terms with it.

I started my wedding file.

Keep in mind I’m not engaged. Or soon-to-be-engaged. Or in a relationship that might lead to an engagement. Or currently dating someone. Or currently thinking about dating something. (Ok, the last one is a bit of a stretch. I mean, I love to think about dating Matthew Morrison, but that’s about as realistic as me getting married in the near future.)

So where did the wedding file come from?

I blame my mother.

My mom is a history buff. Actually, that’s putting it nicely. In reality, she has an unhealthy obsession with General Marquis de Lafayette, and there isn’t a battlefield, historical marker or old house she hasn’t visited in Ohio. So naturally, when I had to go to Kent this past weekend to turn in my apartment keys, it couldn’t be a quick trip. Oh no, my mom was determined to jam as many historical outings into our two-day trip as possible. Along the way we visited the Mansfield Reformatory or, that place where “Shawshank Redemption” was filmed. While I was inhaling enough lead paint to knock out a dozen pregnant ladies, my mom was taking a million pictures, hoping an orb might show up on one. She also waved her hand in every cell. When I asked why, she said she was testing for hot spots. (My mom thinks she’s a member of TAPS.) We also stopped in Orville, Ohio, the birthplace of Smucker’s. Orville is now home to a giant Smucker’s store and not much else. After we left my mom said, “Someone had to rule the world. It might as well have been Smucker’s.”

All joking aside, my mom can plan a good trip. The best part of this trip–besides the lead paint, ghost hunting and walls of jam–was the Stan Hywet house. It’s the former home of F.A. Seiberling, the founder of Goodyear. I don’t know how to describe it, so I’ll have to show you:

They don't call it the little Biltmore for nothing.

Did I mention the backyard?

Oh yeah, that's a pond. IN THE BACKYARD.

I fell in love with it immediately. I loved the “Secret Garden” themed landscape, the brick Tudor style architecture and even the smell: greenery, flowers, dirt, nature. When I learned that a wedding was taking place there that day I considered it a sign. One day I will get married here, I told myself.

I sound totally crazy right? I sound like one of those girls who has her entire wedding planned before age nine. But here’s the thing: every girl is like this. For some it’s the perfect wedding, for others it’s the perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect job. In reality women think about all these things. I know I do. I know when I get married I want to wear blue shoes. I know I want my first house to have hardwood floors. I know I want to name two of my four future children after Beatles’ songs. I know I want to be a writer, a world traveler and an even better cook.

It’s weird to say this out loud, especially the part about my future wedding and family. (It’s funny, I’m more comfortable talking about my career goals rather than my personal goals considering it was opposite for women 40 years ago.) But I guess it’s all supposed to be a bit weird and unpredictable. One day we all wake up and find the perfect job, the perfect mate, the perfect home or the perfect wedding location.

Maybe on my next trip with my mom I’ll finally find the perfect pair of jeans. Now that would definitely be something to file away.

Marquis De Lafayette

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If cheating is wrong, then I don’t want to be right

Posted on 31 May 2010 | Leave a comment

For the past four days,  I’ve been cheating on New York with Washington D.C. I figure if you’re going to cheat on your favorite city, you might as well do it with the nation’s capitol. I’m not sure what the tipping point was. Maybe it was the suspiciously clean metro system that was free of rats and homeless people. Maybe it was the city’s history that flows down every street (which happen to be laid out alphabetically and numerically, something I can appreciate being the neurotic freak I am). Maybe it was the leisurely pace of the people. Or maybe it was the fact that the Obama’s lived next door.

Just hanging out by Michelle Obama's inauguration dress. You know, the typical Thursday afternoon.

Whatever it was, I fell hard.

And the harder I fell, the guiltier I felt. Whenever I discovered another amazing quality about D.C., I would start spouting off about New York, doing my best to defend the Big Apple. “The rats aren’t that big in New York,” I would say, or “People never walk this slow in New York.” But pretty soon I was drinking the punch and preaching the gospel of the District. Right around the time I was sunbathing on the National Mall, I realized something: Washington D.C. is awesome!

Contemplating becoming a D.C. dweller as I sunbathe on the National Mall.

I devoured the city’s history (and amazing cuisine), played miniature golf in a bar (something New Yorkers would label as touristy or worse, Jersey-ish), drank too many margaritas, took a ton of pictures, listened to street musicians play patriotic tunes, stood in awe of the ornate glory of the Warner Theater as Imogen Heap played an amazing set, and danced Friday night away at Cobalt, one of the many gay clubs in DuPont Circle. By the time I got on my plane back to Ohio, I was already thinking about my next trip.

But as much as I love D.C., New York won my heart four years ago. D.C. may have the nation’s history, but it also has the nation’s tourists. I’d rather deal with Times Square’s throngs of international tourists than face another group of school children visiting D.C. on a class trip. They’re loud, rowdy and rude. Not to mention they were tacky tie dye T-shirts and stop at every street vendor. And that’s another thing: Pick up the pace people! If you want to stop and gawk at the Capitol at least move to the side of the path. The Capitol isn’t going anywhere, but I on the other hand, have things to do.

And as eclectic and diverse as D.C. is, I never ventured out of the Northwest neighborhood. When I asked what the other neighborhoods were like, my friend, Adam, said, “The Northeast is weird and I never go to the south side.” Considering I spent last summer exploring every neighborhood in New York from Harlem to Brooklyn, I was surprised by Adam’s remark. New Yorkers may never leave the island, but at least they leave their neighborhood. Besides, why leave the island when everything is right there?

D.C. is definitely one of the coolest places in the country. I wouldn’t mind living there for a few years either. But there’s really no competition. D.C. may have Tangy Sweet and Red Velvet Cupcakery but they don’t even compare to Pinkberry and Sugar Sweet Sunshine. And let’s be real, DuPont Circle is Chelsea’s younger brother. D.C. is that gorgeous boy I spent an amazing weekend with, but New York is the man I come home to.

Thank you D.C. for a great time. I will always think of you fondly. Just don’t tell New York.

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