2nd anniversary. tea bags. cinque terre.

Posted on July 11, 2012 by clairerhoads

Two years ago today, I done got me wed.

As I was reminiscing over the last year, I couldn’t help but think about our amazing Italian/British world tour last fall. The memory that came to mind was our visit to the Cinque Terre, five tiny, coastal Italian towns embedded in the rocky cliffs. Specifically, our walk along Villa dell’Amore (Lover’s Path), the path that allowed young lover’s from Town 1 and Town 2 to meet up back in the day. The path is riddled with all sorts of “love graffiti” and locks attached to any surface as a proclamation of love (amidst other strange items attached as well).

We got there and realized… we have nothing to leave a mark of our love! What were we to do?? Our visit (and love??) wouldn’t feel complete if we didn’t participate in this old tradition.

So, I rustled around in my purse and found the only thing that was remotely shaped as something that could be attached to prove our amore – an old tea bag (Trader Joe’s chamomile, naturally). Do not ask me why that was in my purse. But my fabulous husband said, “Alright, let’s do it. Let’s tea bag the Cinque Terre.” And so, we etched our names gently onto the tea bag, tied it to the path rail, and watched it flutter vigorously in the sea air, a banner of our love and commitment.

At this point, you may be wondering:

a.) How grotesque they are!

b.) How is this at all romantic… you just ruined the most romantic place on earth.

c.) WHY would you recall this and blog about it on your anniversary?

Well, really, we’re harmless – that’s the only time we used that phrase. Heck, I barely even knew what it was! And if you know me, you know how I get into trouble that way. And here is why I share this, possibly my favorite story from our trip – after two years (we’re no veterans!) we have learned that laughter is one of the gifts of grace that God gives us to stay in love. Yes, even slightly inappropriate laughter. Man alive, did we laugh hard! And it embodied what I love about my husband – he’s game. He’s up for it. He’s in on the adventure, even if it means we have to do things in an unconventional way.

3 Things I love about my husband on this 2nd anniversary:

He puts up with all the bobby pins and hair wookies that this lady creates and he cleans the drains! AND makes the wookie sound every. single. time.
He wakes up, in the middle of the night, to comfort and help me during a breakdown (doesn’t happen often, thank God!)
He tea bagged the Cinque Terre with me.

Happy Anniversary, my Southern Gentleman, my HOBL, my friend!

Charleston: Month 1

Posted on June 2, 2012 by clairerhoads

Hi y’all. Today marks one month since we moved here to Charleston, South Carolina from San Francisco, California. Do you like the ‘y’all’? I have to admit, there is something so easy and efficient about that word. I find myself saying it occasionally now.

Well, it’s a miracle we ever made it on the plane a month ago. I came down with the flu the day before the movers came (naturally) and had to lie on the unfurnished floors in a half conscious stupor while Matt stepped on a bee and could hardly walk. Thank God my mom nursed us at her house before we flew out two days later! We crawled onto the plane (after checking 3 guns of course). I honestly don’t think I had the constitution for any emotion which was probably best! Goodbyes are no bueno. No senor.

My sister-in-law, bro-in-law and kids welcomed us with that southern hospitality to their house in the burbs and soon the whole clan descended for my husband’s birthday. Including one of The Twins! We had a great time and sadness/homesickness really only crept in for a few fleeting moments.

Look at this adorable “welcome bag” that my SIL and MIL made for us! Love it.

Fishing off the docks.

We also had a very fine derby party of our own making. My husband’s horse won, to the chagrin of the rest of the family.

Take Charge Trudy & Rousing Sermon.

Even uncle Leonard donned a derby hat…

We’ve played some corn hole. We’ve lost a lot of corn hole. New games? Anyone? How about a different game??

So, down to the really good stuff- our new apartment. In a word, miracle. Old. Charming. Location. Downtown. Those are just a few. We live smack dab in the heart of the old historic French Quarter in Charleston, in an old converted brick cotton warehouse built in 1855. Uhh…yes, you heard that right. Pre-Civil War. We are living in history, you could say. We LOVE it.

Every day, I wake up, look out my window (my two story double long window in my two story exposed brick wall..!!!) and see antiquity. I hear the clipclop of horse (excuse me, mule, per Matt) drawn carriage tours, I step out (and after getting smacked with the moist, humid wall of weather) walk a block to any restaurant, the harbor front, or in the other direction, cobblestone streets, the first theatre in America, and a church founded in 1680.

St Philip’s church’s graveyard is the resting place of some important folk. Buried there are revolutionaries, politicians, confederates and artists. Among them are Col. William Rhett, known as the “Scourge of the Pirates,” charged with bringing the murderous Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet to justice. Gen. Moultrie, the great defender of Charleston against the British, is there. Edward Rutledge, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, Charles Pinckney, a signer of the Constitution, and John C. Calhoun, a US senator and vice president of the US also are buried there.

Beware of carriage crossing.

So, when friends and family ask “how are you liking it?” I say “I’m loving it!” Because we are. It feels like England, but with better weather and friendlier people (hey, my Brits – you know I love you!).

I will, however, briefly mention the main thing that thwarts this idyllic experience (aside from missing my family and friends!). BUGS. The bain of my existence. By the third day here, I had 20+ bug bites. Apparently, I’m the 1-in-10 that is highly attractive to mosquitos. Go figure that this attraction is for bugs. Uhhhh…where was this phenomenon in my dating years?? To add fuel to the fire, I also, evidently, suffer from “Skeeter Syndrome” or allergy to mosquitos. “Sounds pretty redneck,” said my California-bred boss. But that’s what it’s called, apparently. So, I look like a leper straight out of Bible times, but there’s NO CURE. I’ve spent over $100 on various pharmaceutical paraphernalia: Off, natural sprays, a thermacell, salves, lotions, essential oils, vitamin B1 supplements. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I have to wear something at all times, or suffer the histamine consequences.

Then there’s the palmetto bugs. That’s southernese for giant flying cockroaches that sound like military helicopters when approaching your head. More posts coming about those behemoths, but I will leave you with this lovely image of our toilet last week. Bye, y’all!

San Francisco –> Charleston. For keeps.

Posted on April 23, 2012 by clairerhoads

Well, we’re hitting the open r(h)oads again. I hope you like that double entendre. I wrote it just for you.

The rumors (mostly started by me) are true – we are packing up our bags, leaving the SF Bay Area that I grew up in, and moving cross country to Charleston, South Carolina, gem of the south, heart of lowcountry, home of history and large bugs and gators (or so I’m told) (see earlier posts on CHS here and here). My Southern Gentleman got a fab job offer in Charleston, and so we felt God’s leading to reconnect with his roots (arborist joke), join his sister and bro-in-law, and embark on a new grand adventure. When the king of the universe beckons you on an adventure, you fall in line, you know what I’m sayin?

So, we find ourselves in utter upheaval. It’s funny how change brings excitement and the feeling of being “alive”, but also brings an onslaught of fears, anxieties, and unknowns. There are a lot of complex emotions going on in our home right now and I’ll just be real and say that 98% of them are mine, haha!

A taste of my inner dialogue:

How are we going to purge all this crap in time for the movers? Do I really need this 4th spatula? Do they have Sur La Table out there? Where will we live? Should we avoid old historic homes because of the flying cockroaches? Will our massive NASA-launch-pad sectional couch fit anywhere? What the heck am I going to wear? How hot is it really? Will the humidity affect my hair and turn me into the blonde Diana Ross?? Will I fit in? Do I want to fit in? Will I miss the cooky Bay Area? Is there innovation there? Am I allowed to say what I’m really thinking? Will we find a good, gospel-centered church where people are just being real and living life under Jesus together? How will I meet people if I’m working from home remotely? Who will my friends be? Will I have friends? Will I feel like I’m in The Help? Do I get to drink mint juleps on a porch in a rocking chair? Will I be pressured to fake bake because of my genetically translucent white skin, because if yes, so help me God I will lash out! It’s not my fault!

Aren’t you glad you’re not in my mind all the time? It’s a scary place!

But in the midst of all the uncertainty, there is also an absolutely thrilling feeling. I am an adventuress. I always have been. When I can get past the fear and just jump, my adventures are always followed by times of incredible growth, joy and depth. I recently heard a sermon by Francis Chan about why we’re all so bored in the church these days. We’ve got our satellite campuses, our fancy, air-conditioned, audio-enabled sanctuaries, ready to hear about the message for the week. We wonder why God isn’t doing crazy, magical, earth shattering things and why we can’t feel Him. Meanwhile, the Bible shows that God manifested his crazy big power and presence when his people were taking big, hairy, scary risks for Him. Not sitting safely in comfort.

I realized that I have been craving an adventure. I’m bored. I want to feel alive – that feeling of “I really feel alive because there’s a chance I could not be!” This doesn’t have to be extreme sports. This can happen in the heart. My HOBL’s and my life phrase right now comes from Mark Twain:

“Why not go out on a limb? That’s where the fruit is.”

So. Here we are. Creeping out on a (southern) limb, in search of fruit. Stay tuned.

Here’s our new house. Jk.

Here we are, dancing the Charleston in 1925. We look so young!…

Tuscany: Hill town homesteads, leather goods and twihards

Posted on October 11, 2011 by clairerhoads

Tuscany is a delightful place. Driving in Tuscany is not delightful. I find myself at extremes constantly, screaming with fear or giggling with nervousness. Matt does not favor either reactions. The thing is, the italians are absolutely the most ridiculous drivers – they ride your butt as a rule and there is no such thing as a lane. They ONLY pass you on a blind curve, I promise. That said, when we are not automotively fighting for our lives, the countryside provides the most beautiful landscapes.

We left orvieto and traveled north to Montalcino, an old hill town halfway to San Gimignano. We loved it. It is peaceful, a wine lovers paradise, and clearly THE place to come if you are a wealthy yuppy who can rent a fancy old car topless (the car of course). Montalcino is famous for their Brunello di Montalcino, a rich reddish brown wine ( Brunello means “brunette”). We had a fab lunch of pasta, bruschetta and the brunette and then strolled around, heading on to San gimignano after.

We stayed at an agriturismo just outside of San Gim (il castagnolino). We must pause here to say that if you come to Italy, you must stay in these as much as possible. They are a great value, have a peaceful natural setting, and,…they feed you. We half loved the meal we had, but figure that if we had eaten another night, it would have been better. All the food you eat comes from their farm. I love this slow food approach. We realized that there is a reason that we never see big trucks here – they don’t need to haul massive amounts of food around because they eat locally. We’ve vowed to find a produce co-op when we get home.

We hit Volterra, Rick steves’ favorite town in Tuscany and we have to admit – we felt “eh” about it. Perhaps it’s because we hit it around siesta time. Oops. Interestingly, we learned that it has recently earned international attention for it’s connection to the Twilight series (being the home of the ancient italian vampire family, the Volturri). They had funny exhibits at the TI center and even had a New Moon tour. Calling all Twihards! :)

San Gimignano is sweet albeit empty of any attractions aside from shopping, views and food. Most of our memories of the town will be of my haggling (both with Matt AND the vendor) for a gorgeous handmade leather traveling bag. Double stitching, cognac leather, old fashioned buckles. “I’ll have it forever!” I exclaimed. Meanwhile, I won’t be getting any Christmas presents this year. ;)

We had a D-lish cliffside dinner overlooking the whole Tuscan valley where we devoured the most amazing truffle gnocchi, wild boar (regional specialty) and white wine. This is an appropriate time to mention that one of the highlights of our trip has been our mass consumption of all things truffle ( it’s in season here). We have developed a love affair with that scrumptious fungi. The other highlight is listening to Matt try to pronounce the Italian word for truffle – tartufo. Tarfuti, tufarto, tarfito, tufarti, tarfarti. Anything but the actual word. We die laughing every time.

Here, we get mistaken for the Germans by the French. It is an interesting phenomenon. And in turn, we’ve found that we love the Germans we meet. Perhaps a trip is looming in our future?

Next was Florence. There are two things that can be said – there is something magical about Florence and our hotel room was a dump.

More pics to come!

Orvieto: Mystery Meat

Posted on October 7, 2011 by clairerhoads

Our first night in Umbria was quite the experience. We were all aglow after our amazing exploration of Civita. We checked into our fancy spa like agriturismo in the hills of Orvieto and got a little R&R. The hot tub was broken (i feel like most things are in italy) but we convinced them to crank up the “winter” indoor spa and steam room. This was, in a word, heaven. After the grime and rush of Rome, we were, finally, relaxed. We took a nap and walked down the driveway to the agri’s fancy restaurant, where we decided to go with the Meat Tasting Menu. How exciting! 4+ courses with custom wine pairings. Here is where it gets interesting.

I saw that the antipasti was “calf sweetbreads”. Huh…I’ve never heard of that, I thought. I asked Matt who said in an off hand manner, “oh that’s the little ultra tender center of the tenderloin.” Wow, count me in. So after the aspertivo, they set down our sweetbread plate with mushrooms, and I eagerly cut a small piece and popped it in. Hmph..this…does not taste like filet mignon. It’s… really irony tasting. It kind of made me sick. Matt clearly was coming to a conclusion and looked at me sheepishly. “I don’t think this is what I thought it was.” A small panic was rising in me. What the heck am I eating??

“Claire, don’t kill me, but…. I think this is calf testicles.” He was suppressing laughter.

“WHAAAT?!?!” I almost died and threw up, simultaneously.

We had had some wine already and were relaxed, so all of the sudden, the whole situation was immensely funny and even I couldn’t help but break down laughing. I laughed so hard I cried and every time the fancy waitress came, we would have tears streaming down our faces, to the chagrin of the other (fancy) diners.

The whole meal (catalogued below) was fantastic and we left guts busting, happy and relaxed. When we got back to the room, we did a little research ( thank God for Wikipedia) and discovered that while sweetbread is occasionally of the testicular nature, it is usually the brainstem/thymus. Awesome, we ate a baby cow’s immune system center OR brain, I thought. We are the ultimate monsters.

Beware the sweetbreads.

Menu:

Appertivo – smoked salmon (champagne)
Antipasti – calf brainstem/sweetbread porcini mushroom (Cabernet franc)
Primi – rabbit ragu tagliatelle (cab-merlot)
Secondi – filet mignon with rosemary and porcini demi glaze and fingerling potato (merlot)
Pre pre-dolci – three pecorino cheeses and honey
Pre-dolci – little cookie cake things (sherry)
Dolci – orange torte, orange mousse, chocolate liquor ice cream

Roma, Orvieto: catacombs, crumbling cities, calf’s thymus

Posted on October 4, 2011 by clairerhoads

Days 3 – 5 have been a mix of exciting sites, adventures, food…but also travel annoyances and mishaps.

As we took it easy on Saturday (read: slept till 11), we took in some more local sites which I won’t mention much about here (Jewish ghetto, Pantheon, piazza navona, st. Ignasio and its 3-D paintings, trevi fountain). We also ate a delicious meal at Rick Steves’ recommended Osteria al Bric. Matt has insisted that we record EVERY meal in detail so that we can recreate later (lots of truffle, mostly black… It’s in season!). Rick’s night walk was also delightful.

Sunday we set our caps on the Catacombs of St. Callisto, just outside the city walls. This ancient christian burial site in Rome started being used around 100AD. It’s outside the city walls because an first century decree forbade burying the dead in city walls (Romans mostly cremated). As we shared earlier, the catacomb part of the Vatican museum was amazing so we were extremely interested to see where all of those artifacts came from.

We walked past the old Circus Maximus (you know no biggie) and hopped a bus the the Appia Antica (Ancient Appian Way). This was one of our highlights – The AA is so tranquil and beautiful, lined with sprawling villas old and new, and as you stroll along the original stones of a 2,000+ year old highway, complete with chariot wheel grooves, you can’t help but feel like you’re part of the history. We thought about renting bikes to ride it but after seeing international tourist after tourist fly off their bike and scream obscenities in every native tongue, we opted out.

Our catacomb tour took us deep down into the burial chambers and tiny worship nooks. As wealthier Romans became Christians, they shared their property with poorer, oppressed Christians who couldnt pay for a place to bury their dead when they “fell asleep” before the return of Jesus. As persecution increased and Christians were being hunted down, they would hide here for the day. The walls had crumbling leftovers (darn those barbarians that ruined EVERYTHInG historical) of beautiful mosaics and frescoes as well as touching epitaphs.

On the way back from the catacombs we got lost for 2 hours (insert marital conflict #1) and almost had a meltdown. Italian transportation is ridiculous. Modern day Italians have really strayed from their organized, civil engineering ancestors. It ain’t pretty but it’s the truth. Dinner in Trastevere helped however.

On Monday we gladly departed Rome via train for Orvieto. Unlike the annoying American tourists we saw at the cafe the day before (beefy dude wearing a cutoff bodybuilder.com tshirt, carrying 12 fake Gucci bags, screaming “I can’t believe I got these here gucci bags so cheap!!”) we met the most amazing older couple on the train. They were from LA, almost on the same itinerary as us. Peggy and John, originally from NYC, are an actor and horseshoe retailer respectively. We had great laughs and convos the whole way and plan to meet up in Cinque Terre next week!

We picked up our rental car in Orvieto and low and behold, Matts GPS was not getting signal. We had no real road maps or directions and we were in the Italian countryside. (insert marital conflict número due). After some very calm (cough) arguing with interested Italian old men looking on, we decided to just drive and hope for the best. Success! Praise God, he knew that if that durned GPS didn’t start working, the holy Rhoads union might be at risk. He spared us further calamity and it started working.

Now is where our favorite part comes – Civita di Bagnoregio. If you come to Italy ever, you MUST see this little hill town precariously perched high up on an eroding crag. It was the stuff Italian dreams are made of. We parked as Rick told us under the foot bridge in Bagnoregio and walked up the steep footbridge (the original eroded away) to this town in the clouds. But not before seeing some interesting bathroom signs – toilet for men and …. Segway riders OR handicapped people. You decide:

We took some video to try to capture the sights but I just learned that I can’t upload onto wordpress- awesome!

Ok, I’ve run out of time so our horrifying and funny dinner story from last night’s agriturismo will have to wait…

Ciao!

Roma: Day 2 in the Eternal City

Posted on October 1, 2011 by clairerhoads

We are simply having an absolutely amazing time already. Our 16 hour journey, while long, was blissfully uneventful and full of sleeping (mostly for Matt, who can sleep ANyWHERE. Drives me crazy) with a refreshing respite in London Heathrow to tide us over until our longer visit later.

We arrived in Rome in the evening and found our B&B, located in the ancient Jewish Ghetto neighborhood, right in the heart of the city. Our room is great for Rome standards and perhaps the most exciting feature for Matt is the bidet. “I want to use it but it scares me.”

We got in and felt some new found energy and so decided to walk around the quaint, narrow neighborhood streets in search of a late dinner (typical for Italians). As we strolled down the cobbled streets, hand in hand, warm summer breeze blowing through the ancient, tall buildings, I couldn’t help but feel that life on this earth can’t get much better. And then we tasted the made-to-order tiramisu at our outdoor cafe. I almost died. Amazing stuff, and I don’t even LIKE tiramisu usually.

Yesterday was our marathon sightseeing day. We’re still in bed recovering, in fact (Matt is, as usual, sleeping). In the morning, we walked the 2 miles to the Vatican City to start our day-long private tour with Mr. Giancarlo Alu. My parents got a private tour with him 3 years ago and recommended him highly. Giancarlo is a delightful and passionate 70 year old archeologist and art historian. He has spoken around the world (Princeton, Oxford) and owns multiple historic properties in Italy (which he invited us to stay at but our schedule didn’t work – gahh!). We shared that we were most interested in early Christian history and amazingly, that is his specialty! He was very excited about that and actually stayed with us longer than planned because “you both have beautiful positive auras around you and I am having fun.” ( ok, so a little quirky. Aura? Jet lag? Who knows)

Giancarlo took us through the early christian museum where we saw marble sarcophagi from the Christian catacombs. The engravings depicted beloved scenes from the bible, including Jesus healing people, etc. Everything had the early symbol for Christians on it – the Che-Rho. The Chi-Rho (pronounced “KEE-roe”) is a symbol consisting of the intersection of the capital Greek letters Chi (Χ) and Rho (Ρ), which are the first two letters of “Christ” in Greek (ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ, Christos). The cross was not used until later, as it was still a “sensitive” image for early Christians. A particularly somber sight was a capstone for a young boy that translated – here is XX, may he rest in peace with christos, he was 8 years old, a martyr. These artifacts were from the height of persecution for Christians in Rome, around 280 AD. What struck us is that because they had to remain so secret about their worship, they took every opportunity to express their faith outwardly in simple things like cups, oil lamps, and silverware. We even saw the first ever Christian accessories – a chi-Rho ring and ichthus(fish) necklace!

These were such a stark contrast to the ornateness of the later popes’ treasures. Let me just put it this way – the pope has got a lotta bling in his crib, ok? St. Peter’s Basilica is….whoa. It is so grandiose that it takes your breath away. Scale is the big wow factor there- it is just so huge. The tiny-looking gold lettering toward the ceiling is actually 6 feet tall.

The Sistine chapel was, of course, breathtaking. Hopefully my pics will appear below. This wordpress for iPad app is kinda sketchy!

After visiting the Coloseum and roman forum, we hit the gelateria (drool) and then a ristorante near our place featuring traditional roman jewish dishes ( fried artichoke, etc). Our young, virile waiter insisted that we order the ossobucco and wouldn’t take the dish away until Matt ate the bone marrow, which he says his father told him to eat lots of – “It make-a you strong-a for the ladies” (!)

Because yesterday’s miles and stairs made our butts and feet scream out in pain, we’re taking it easy today to enjoy a little dolce vita (sweet life).

Ciao for now!

Euro Adventure: Come with us to Italy/England!

Posted on September 27, 2011 by clairerhoads

Well, I am beside myself with excitement. Things have been a little quiet around Open R(h)oads because we Rhoadses have been planning/preparing for an epic Euro adventure. Tomorrow, we depart for Italy, where we will be for almost two weeks before a jaunty trip to London, my old stomping grounds, and then back home to the SF Bay Area.

We have 3 main missions for this trip:

1) Fall more in love.

(Wow, how did they dig up that old pic of my Southern Gentleman and I in front of the Trevi Fountain??)

2) Stuff our faces with drool-worthy cuisine.

3.) Learn stuff about God’s creation and people.

What can I say? We’re simple folk.

We so wish you all could come with us. So… we thought it would be fun to blog about our adventures in each city as we go from my trusty new iPad! So, kick back, relax, and enjoy the ride. The good news is you won’t get your wallet stolen. ;)

Ciao for now,

Claire

Tales from the Butt (Lake)

Posted on August 26, 2011 by clairerhoads

Gather round, boys and girls. I’m going to share some tales from the Butt. Lake, that is. As I mentioned the other day, my southern gentleman and I recently trekked to one of my all-time favorite spots and a vacation location that I’ve been visiting annually since I was… I can’t remember. 10? I started visiting Butt Lake (near Lake Almanor/Mt Lassen here) with my childhood BFF, Maren, when we were awkward pre-teens. Her family has been going en mass every year since her mom was a little girl. Over the years, the family brought friends, those friends grew up and brought more friends and children, whose children brought their children, etc. etc. Now there are about 60+ people who descend upon the lakeside campgrounds every year at the same time – last week of July, first week of August.

This year was special. This year was the first year that Matt (aka: Southern Gentleman, The Virginian, HOBL) visited the lake. Matt, meet Butt Lake, Butt Lake, meet Matt. As odd as it may sound, it was an emotional and cherished event. Ever since we were little, us Butt Lake girls would talk about bringing our prince charmings to Butt Lake eventually. “We have to find someone who fits in here perfectly,” we would agree solemnly. Well, boy did Matt fit. He was born for Butt Lake! It’s not hard to imagine when half of our house is taken up with fishing gear, guns, outdoor ensembles, and general REI gear. God knew.

Top 10 Commandments for Butt Lake:

Thou shalt have no schedule
Thou shalt laugh hourly
Thou shalt consume donuts at least once a day
Thou shalt acquire a red dirt tan
Thou shalt never go down the Feather River in a 2-person kayak (important this last year)
Thou shalt talk friendly trash during card and board games
Thou shalt watch cheesy movies at nearby Susanville
Thou shalt not lay thine sleeping bag over a wasp nest
Thou shalt possess an anti-constipation remedy
Thou shalt be nice to thine neighbors (especially on the Sinking Log)

Here are some shots (compliments of Maren’s camera):

Said donuts

Butt Lake beauty

This is Maren

That handsome older gentleman is the original Butt Laker – Grandpa Hannibal!

Swedish pancakes… drool

Hunkiest Monopoly player I’ve ever seen, but I’m partial

Doh!

This is me behind the camera here. Master skill (cough). But beautiful model and Butt Lake fashion!

The motley crew ready to head down the Feather River

Butt art

Summer fun: Chucktown, Santa Barbara, SF, Butt Lake

Posted on August 14, 2011 by clairerhoads

Phew, hi. It’s been a while. Summer struck and with it, some blog lackluster. You could say it’s the PG version of “good girls keep journals, the bad girls don’t have time” – I’ve been so busy living, I haven’t had time to blog about life! I’ve had a great summer time (cue the Gershwin music). Love, love, love. Filled with family visits, tasty meals on warm patios, vodka tonics, weekend getaways and a first anniversary celebration.

In May, we visited my husband’s family in Charleston, affectionately nicknamed “Chucktown”. It was a fabulous getaway.

After a few turbulent take-offs and landings, we arrived (somewhat nauseated) in Charleston, South Carolina. One interesting thing about Charleston is that when you land in the small airport, you feel… relaxed. It’s almost as if the laid back, low country living welcomes you at the doors. We played house with our niece and nephew, laughed with family, embarked on southern foodie adventures and even had a date night on one one of the nearby coastal islands. I LOVED it. Everything you could want is in Charleston – good food, rich history, quaint and beautiful surroundings, island flare, nice people, and… affordable housing. It’s a true story. We may move there some day. Stay tuned. Learn more about Charleston here.

My cute niece/shadow.

‘

My hip mother-in-law and sister-in-law in Lilly Pulitzer, a southern style staple.

Later in May, we packed our bags and headed south to Santa Barbara to celebrate the wedding of a long time friend (we went to 2nd grade together). Santa Barbara was beautiful, but windy. A highlight was a tasty visit to Bouchon, a delicious local-fare eatery.

Breakfast on the beach.

Oh, did I mention that we stopped at an Ostrich Farm? They are aggressive, large egg-ed birds, that’s about all I can say.

Next on our summer tour was an SF “staycation” to celebrate our 1st anniversary. Year one! Flew by so fast, yet feels jam packed with memories, lessons learned, etc. The plan was to surprise Matt with his long-awaited first ever trip to Alcatraz (you know, celebrate marriage with a trip to… prison…), however, the booking fell through and therefore we rented GoCars, small motorcycle-like pods that take you on a gps audio guided tour through the city. Let me tell you – if you’re looking to test your marriage, try driving one of those things around San Francisco for 4 hours. If one of you isn’t dead, then by default, you’ve succeeded. Har har har.

My lover and my bridge

At the end of July, the Virginian and I packed up our camping gear (that’s a lie. The Virginian packed and I watched and ate Sour Patch Kids) for our annual trip to Butt Lake. I hear your mind trying to reconcile that word. “B-ute” you think, “what an idiot, she’s misspelling butte.” But on my honor it is Butt. Rhymes with nut, or King Tut. Variation of rear, rump, derriere. And those of us who know and love the sacred place take pride in the grotesqueocity (yep I invented that) of the name. It’s one of God’s divine ironies, such an ugly name for such a beautifully breathtaking piece of creation. Now that I’ve piqued your interest, stay tuned for a full blog all about the Butt (Lake, that is). Tee hee.

What did you do this summer?

Open R(h)oads

A city girl. A country boy. Hitting the open r(h)oads of life.

Category Archives: Travel