While I’m on the road I’ve asked two of my favourite bloggers to help fill in for me, and today I’d like to introduce you to Mandy from KnowingTheDifference.com. Mandy’s blog is beautifully self searching and reflective, full of small town summers, concerts and bonfires – the perfect remedy for hot city summers.

When Kyla first started sharing details of her road trip with me, it evoked my own fond memories of one special road trip.

In the late winter months of sophomore year of college, a few friends and I sat around a dorm room discussing our non-existent spring break plans for the following week. We were heading home due to lack of funds necessary to take some elaborate trip to a warm sunny destination like Mexico or Florida. Somewhere in the middle of night between procrastinating for a final and writing a paper, the three of us plotted a getaway that involved nothing more than some clothes, a cooler, and some random maps printed off the internet.

We had decided to take a road trip to no where, figuring that we could just hit the open road calling relatives and friends along the way to crash on their couches or floors. We had no specific route in mind. No idea of where we would go first. No idea where we would end up. It was thrilling and completely out of character for all three of us, who preferred to know exactly what was going to happen when.

After classes ended, my two friends and I packed up some clothes in duffle bags, stopped at the store to buy a few loaves of bread, some lunch meat, and peanut butter and were on our way. We had little money, no clear directions except some random state maps, and the wide open road ahead of us. Running off of nothing but caffeinated beverages and pure adrenaline, we decided to drive east toward the beach so we could watch the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. We were 19 years old, completely free, and on no one’s schedule but our own. The trip involved lots of singing at the top of our lungs, philosophical discussions (or as philosophical as one can get when one is 19), and moments of silence just enjoying the feeling of escaping our small college campus for a time. Our only plan for the moment was to keep driving east until we literally ran into the water. We made it to the shore and witnessed a spectacular sunrise. The weather was chilly, the water too cold to dip a toe into, but we spent the day at the beach just walking along the sand and occasionally ducking into little shops that happened to be open.

The three of us lived only for the moment in front of us, no worry or concern of where we would go next or even where we would sleep that night, we just trusted it would work out. It was seven days filled with spontaneity which was a huge change from how we lived our day to day lives. If when driving along we saw something interesting we stopped. If we didn’t we kept going. Our travels took us in a broad circle through several states from the beach into the mountains and back again. Twice when we found ourselves in the middle of no where, too far between friendly couches and floors, we slept in the car. We ate a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. We saw some interesting sights. We were more alive than we had ever been which was incredibly exhilarating.

Over the next few years those friendships faded into the background. There were other trips with different friends and new memories made. I’ve never forgotten that road trip though or the feelings that went along with it — feelings of being completely and totally free, just trusting that life would work out, and having total faith in my two friends. Lately I find myself needing more and more to remember those thoughts and feelings.

Do you have a favorite trip where you did something completely spontaneous and lived only for the moment?

While I’m on the road I’ve asked two of my favourite bloggers to help fill in for me, and today I’d like to introduce you to Nora from WalkingWithNora.com. Nora is currently counting down the days to a summer full of travel and grad school finals- she’s heartfelt and honest, and definitely one of the good ones.

In just a few weeks’ time, it will be Memorial Day weekend in the States, a three-day holiday weekend for most Americans. For me it signifies the start of summer, the promise of late nights sipping wine next to the pool, ignoring my bedtime and thus my alarm clock, planning weekend road trips and getaways, and soaking up the rays (while wearing SPF 40). While the lovely and Kyla and Mister are on their Road Trip 2010, I thought today I spend a few minutes talking to you about summer and what it means to me.

- Rekindling Friendships. After months of being couped up in houses cozied up to the fireside or under a pile of blankets, there’s no better time for me and the gals to bond all over again. St. Louis is fortunate to host several fabulous festivals over the next few months for jazz, food, Shakespeare, African culture and much more, many of which are free. My weekends will be filled with trips to wineries, poolside chats, and summer twilight nights spent on wine bar patios chatting, remembering, snapping photos and enjoying each other’s company, winter coat free.

- Wine & Words. My “to be read,” pile is 50 books strong and growing. As a middle schooler I made a summer reading stack and vowed to get through the books over the course of my three months off. Even though I no longer have 90 glorious days of freedom, I continue this tradition; my sideboard is stacked 10 books high just begging to be dog-eared, paged through, tatterred and torn up (I tend to carry my books with me everywhere I go, even in my purse). In the last few years I’ve taken my reading habits outdoors to the rocking chairs on the front porch during rainstorms, or the cherry wood patio furniture next to the pool. If I’m lucky I have a glass of wine in hand and mellow out for a few hours, getting lost in the lands of the characters and plots.

- Lazy Weekends. We’re talking sleeping in until 10, lazing about in the PJs even after I’m awake, checking out garage sales, long strolls with Jack, sitting pondside watching the ducks and geese flap about, taking advantage of the rainy days to catch up on movies and the Netflix queue, write letters, and sort through the stuff that was accumulated over the winter. These weekends are work-free and school-free zones.

- Festivals, Patriotism & Baseball. Now that I’ve been in St. Louis as an adult for the last five summers, I have little rituals that last throughout the hot, hot days. Rituals like attending the Shakespeare Festival to enjoy the play of the year which involves grabbing a slice of lawn, some friends and a shareable picnic. Spending Independence Day on the lake with rum punch and food, fireworks and saluting the red, white and blue. Friday nights at the free summer concert series under The Arch along the Mississippi river, Saturday mornings at the zoo with the penguins, and of course, taking in a few baseball games both semi-pro and MLB.

I’ve learned how to balance feeling like a kid with no-school for the summer with the professional adult I must be Monday-Friday at the office. I’ve learned to embrace the extra hours of daylight, time with friends and families, the little moments that make us laugh, make us smile and remind us what life is all about.

Now that I’ve shared my summer plans, tell me, what does summer meant to you?

Any rituals or summer-centric plans you look forward to each year?

Thank you so much!

- kr.

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He’s recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He’s the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I’m overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren’t sure what’s happening. He’ll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what’s going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as ‘brandy’s hot awesome dude’). If you don’t pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven’t seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn’t a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It’s just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

This week I nearly wrote my wrists off so I could guest post for the wonderful Ev’Yan over at her advice blog, Ask Apricot. I tackled two questions for her, one from a girl worried about her boyfriend traveling with another girl and one from a college student who is having trouble leaving her baggage from a previous relationship behind.

Take a look & weigh in if you have a minute!

Talk soon,

Kr.

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It’s easy to find new blogs, but it can be extremely difficult to find new blogs that are written by someone you can fall in bloggy love with and that you’ll look forward to reading every day. Lauren from Texas has one of those blogs. Add her to your reader, follow her on twitter, or send her an e-mail at laurenfromtexas (at) gmail (dot) com. Oh, and get ready for the cute. She has it in spades.

I’ve only been a guest blogger once before, so I’m a little nervous. Is it OK to say I’m nervous? Too late.

When Kyla asked me to guest blog while she was on her belated honeymoon, here are the thoughts that went through my head:

Wow. What an honor!
Kyla is so fabulous. Her blog is so fabulous.
I hope I don’t mess up!
What am I going to write about?
What if her readers throw tomatoes at me?
I guess that would be kind of impossible.
I wish I were going on a Disney Cruise!
When was the last time I saw a Disney movie?
“MICHAEL! We need to start buying Disney movies for when we have kids!”
I’m kind of craving some tomatoes.

Hi, my name is Lauren and I’m a little bit crazy.

Now that introductions have been made, let’s get down to business. Kyla has left us. I know, I know. I miss her too. I also think it’s totally rude for her to go on a vacay without inviting us. Oh well, I guess since it’s her honeymoon, we’ll let this one slide. But next time, Kyla, next time!

I think it’s fantastic that Kyla and her husband are taking a belated honeymoon – because, well, that’s what my husband and I did too.

Michael and I met in late February 2007. We began dating 2 weeks later. On July 9th, 2007, he asked me to be his wife. November 18th of the same year, I wore white, and we vowed to love each other forever. Now, while all of that was QUITE magical and lovely and more than I could ever ask for, it was FAST. Barely 9 months from start to finish. Hardly enough time to plan for a wedding, let alone anything else. To top it all off, I was scheduled to graduate from college the next month. Between finals, Michael’s job, and the holidays, a long honeymoon was out of the question. So we took a couple of days after the wedding to go to a nice hotel and enjoy those first 48 hours of marriage. Then we came home and got back to real life. I graduated college, began a new job, and married life was in full swing. We had begun saving for a honeymoon in Mexico and were able to take it in June of 2008. Let me tell you, it was worth the wait.

I think that taking your honeymoon a few months (or even a year in Kyla & Mister’s case!) can be every bit as wonderful as taking it immediately after your wedding. Here are my reasons why:

• You’re not rushing off immediately after your wedding. Honestly, all I wanted to do for the first few days after my wedding (besides the obvious) was SLEEP. I was so worn out from all the planning, and it was kind of nice to know that I could do that without feeling guilty that we weren’t out “doing vacationy stuff.”
• It gives you time to adjust to being married before running off on vacation together. Like I said before, Michael and I were fast movers. We didn’t live together before we got married, so we had A LOT of adjusting to do after we tied the knot. It was nice to spend that first week or so alone in our apartment, getting used to the whole “married” thing. By the time we left for our honeymoon, we were ready for a vacation and totally ready for an adventure.
• It gives you something to look forward to and plan for after you get married. As opposed to having everything in one fell swoop, you get half (the wedding) now and then the other half (the honeymoon) later. Fun!

I’m not saying that waiting is for everyone, but if circumstances are so that you must wait (or just think it would be better), don’t be afraid! I can successfully say that it turns out just fine. I’m sure Kyla will attest when she returns from her luxurious cruise (still jealous!).

And of course, here are some pictures from our honeymoon.

Tip #1 for honeymooners: No matter when you take your honeymoon, make T-shirts. Everyone is SUPER nice to you, and hey, you get free drinks on the plane!

Here we are at our amazing villa, hanging out by the infinity view pool. Yes, it was incredible.

Then we went on a day cruise and went snorkeling, and for some reason my husband decided to let them put an octopus on him. I was basically standing 6 feet away and shrieking as I took this picture.

Also, on the day cruise, this guy served us beer. True (and scary) story.

Here’s me in my fabulous sunhat that was a pain in the butt to pack – but totally worth it, don’t you think?

And here we are on the beach, soaking up the sun. I love this man.

Thanks for reading! Kyla is one of my favorite bloggers, and it’s been a huge honor to write for her blog, not to mention really fun.

Fall is my favourite time of year. As a redhead, the drop in temperature and subsequent lower UV rating equates to a direct rise in high fashion and better skin. Living on the West Coast, where it seems every other person is tanned, buff and shirtless; I cannot tell you how happy I am to start wearing layers again. I might not have a beach body but that does not mean this scrawny 28-inch waist cannot still rock it in a coffee shop. Sex appeal is different for everyone, and mine comes packaged with a once-wrapped scarf, v-neck, and grandé caramel macchiato steaming in my right hand.

As far as my complexion is concerned, I’ve always lived by the philosophy “if it’s good for the face – then it’s good for you.” No longer clogged each morning by SPF 6000, my pores could not agree with me more on that fact. September est très bon pour le visage et le most natural detox a person can find. But trying on a blog post a little less superficial in size, this fall in particular has meant much more to me then just a good photo opportunity.

Having moved off the prairies last June, I spent the summer trying to shed the skin I could not exfoliate in Winnipeg. Thinking this process would be as easy as just switching products, I could have not been anymore wrong. For the prairie boy I left was gin-soaked, well-dressed, and against all his better efforts, could not heal a broken heart. Shaking this off I learned, meant not only a change in scenery, but also a change in life.

And so four panic attacks, two nights not remembering how I got home, and one $1200 VISA bill for a personal-training package-at-the-gym later, I write to you from a new skin. Of course I will always be gin-soaked and well-dressed (survey says this quarter-life crisis never looked so good!) but I am happy to report the reasons behind these fabulous qualities have changed. For future reference let it be known that the gay-male-soul does not do chicken soup, it does gin martinis on the rocks and with extra olives.

Fall is not only a time for fashion and the face, it is also a time for fresh starts and switching back from white to red. So sit back, wrap the blanket around your knees and enjoy this time of year!

Or take a Disney cruise down South and forget everything I just said.

Lindsay from Adventures of a Book Thief has been one of my favourite blogs to read since I found her this past winter. Her writing always draws me in, her blog design is exceptionally cute (always gets me!) and she’s just gone back to school full time! She’s just as brave as she is dreamy to read about. Please thank her for holding down the fort until I’m back!

When Kyla told me she was going on a Disney Cruise, I got so excited for my Canadian Prairie friend.  As a Southern California girl, Disneyland has always held a special place in my heart.  One day every summer, my family would wake up at the crack of dawn to conquer the Magic Kingdom.  We’d get there so early that the park wasn’t even open.  We’d wait behind a velvet rope on Main Street until we were given permission to rush into the world of magic and wonder.

Our routine was always the same: Peter Pan’s Flight was our first stop.  The feeling of soaring over London and Neverland is still one of my favorites.  My dad is the king of organization and routine, so it’s no surprise that he would check every ride we went on off of the little paper maps they give you at the entrance (yes, we are those people: the ones with a tendency toward OCD and structure).  We’d stay all day, until absolutely every ride was covered.  Between the sugar rush from oodles of churros and giant lollipops and hours of roller coasters and storybook adventures, my parents would carry my sister and I to the car in big tired bundles.

I have so many Disney memories.  Dressing up as Alice in Wonderland when I was seven years old and thinking I had everyone in the park convinced that I was the real Alice.  Running through the park with my best girls, fireworks dancing across the sky.  Sharing kisses with a special someone in the spooky glow of Haunted Mansion ghosts.  I keep these little gems close to my chest and peek at them every now and then.  They are like old friends.

There is something comforting to me about the opportunity to leave your worries behind for a day in a world that is all about fantasy.  I can be just as snarky and cynical as the next gal, with a healthy skepticism of those with smiles plastered on their faces at all hours.  Happiness is something I treasure, but I’m not someone who believes I’m entitled to it 24-7.  I know that there are lessons learned from the other hundreds of emotions that have made me stronger and more compassionate.  But there is really nothing like leaving your angst at the door and just floating on a bubble of giggly excitement.  I love that I can still experience that joy as an almost-grown-up lady.

Kyla, I hope you and Mister have an amazing time with adventures you’ll whisper about under the covers for years to come.

I’m hosting someone’s secret and someone else is hosting mine. Want more? Browse the participants here!

I haven’t felt safe for three years.

Three years that I have been looking over my shoulder every time I’ve been in the downtown core of my hometown. Three years that I’ve had to avoid certain streets, certain restaurants, certain clubs and certain people I used to call close friends.

As far as break-ups go, ours was epic. I still don’t know who the winner is. I’ve come out on the other end with a career, a family and a life but somewhere in the shuffle I lost my sense of security and self-confidence. My nerves are shot, my self-image is gone, and I’m always bracing myself for what you might have in store for me should you ever decide to show the dark side that you hid from me for so long.

You’ve come out on the other end with the same life you had from the start. You lost the most and the least at the very same time.

I was twenty. You were in your mid-thirties despite telling me you were younger. I was a student with high hopes. You were a drug-dealer with nothing to lose. I was your innocent, naive ideal. You were my worst nightmare and my greatest opponent. You cut me off from my friends. You alienated me from my family.

You threatened my future on numerous occasions often by saying you’d end your own if you couldn’t have me.

When I left the first time, you disappeared – calling only in the middle of the night to make sure I was still sick to my stomach, telling me you were going to die quietly and leave me in peace. Me – a twenty-year-old already blaming myself for your death. You roped me back in, chained with guilt, fear and the knowledge that a clean break had escaped me.

When I left the second time, you took a different approach. That night was my first experience with physical abuse. The walls of my apartment never looked the same after being thrown into them. My balcony never looked the same after you climbed up onto it and slammed the glass panes in the middle of the night. My courtyard never looked the same after my big brother shuffled me quickly from the lobby into his car for a late-night escape. The city streets never looked the same after I spent months on the look-out for the people you promised would never let me forget my mistakes.

We’re lives apart but we’re still sharing a city and I’ve got the broken piece.