Once upon a time, in the middle of July, a writer girl hopped on a train in her purple chucks and went to a big city with her husband to celebrate her birthday.
First, they entered a grand place called Union Station, a small city unto itself. Then they boarded a train, which was a particular treat for the writer girl since she had never traveled by train before. (more…)
As promised, the continuation of my birthday weekend adventure:
After playing murder in the icebox, Beth and I hefted towels, food, water, and Orli (my camera) and planted ourselves on the beach. The sky was clear, the sun warm.
We sat, enjoying this view and chatting. Until Beth turned and looked behind me.
“Oh wow!” she exclaimed.
(Can I just say, it makes me seriously nervous when people look behind me and make strange faces.) (more…)
One of the places Beth took me two weekends ago was a lovely, historic beach home named Atalaya (Spanish for watchtower). Built by a businessman for his sculptor wife, it sits feet from the beach, a refuge for Archer and Anna Huntington. The perfect introverts’ sanctuary since it has no guest quarters. On purpose. I so get these people.
Ok, so from the outside, it doesn’t look all that incredible. I mean, the teal is cool, but just wait until we get inside… (more…)