Vienna, Day 1

Honeymooning is a novel concept to me. In my life, I think I’ve only met two or three couples who were enjoying what the Germans call “flitter weeks.” Maybe that’s because I’ve never lived in a scenic locale that’s both memorable and Instagram-worthy (to let my bias out for a walk, my hometown’s beach is one of the nicest in the world. I’d much rather go to Pensacola than Miami, but whatever). I can’t cast stones, though, considering that my honeymoon takes me across the ocean to have my bags checked in Portugal before being delivered to the scenic views of Vienna’s MuseumQuartier.

An Unapologetic, Sappy Post About Friendship, Love & All That Other B.S.

When I remember my childhood, it always feels like fall. Let's not dwell on the fact that I grew up in Florida and that it was below 75 for about three weeks a year. For some reason, I remember doing arts in crafts in the front room of my best friend's house with a bunch of other girls while we waited for Girl Scouts to start. It's always fall. If that's not a season of nostalgia, I don't know what is.