My Beloved State,

In just a few short weeks, it will be time to bid you fare well.

The seasons have changed.

You have changed.  

Just as I thought I couldn’t stand you any longer for your slush, cold, wind, and dreary gray scale, you go and decide to do this, bloom and grow. Your dashing runway-of-a wardrobe is bursting with color. You pair each piece so well. How do you manage it?

You’ve donned a new perfume, a full bouquet of colorful aroma… cherry blossoms, golden forsythia, violet lilac, and periwinkle myrtle. Its luster engulfs my senses with each deep breath. Where can I buy it?

Your skin glows with this new warmth. Were you this bright during the winter? Or are my defrosting eyes just sensitive to the light?

The attractive curve and flow of your shape is reflected in Lake Michigan and outlined by the mounds of sand along the shore. I look out onto the steady blue of your waters, and watch as they wash over my sand buried toes. I look up, westward; the sunset explodes into colorful chaos. The west! Where I will return yet again.

Are you also ready for change, Laura?

Michigan, will you ever truly be my home again? Will I ever feel for you as I once did in my childhood? Why do I want to leave you once again so soon?

Will I ever find my place?

These questions once scared me, but now I find excitement in the unknown and revel in my journey.

The seasons have changed.

And I have changed.

And again, I am ready to go.

Yours faithfully, 




Things upon Things.

Here I am yet again preparing to move. Over the past three years, I have moved about 8 times. At first, it was pretty easy…

I threw shorts, a tee shirt, and a swim suit in my 40 liter Osprey and hopped a plane to Hawaii…

Moving to Denver required a business shirt and slacks, so I needed an extra suitcase…

Tough boots and warm flannels were absolutely necessary for the mountainous Wyoming terrain and crazy weather. I bought an extra bin.

I couldn’t just fly anymore with my Osprey, suitcase, and rubbermaid bin, so I bought a car.


It gathers, accumulates, and finds itself in every corner.

Where does it all come from?

Why do I keep that gargantuan 10 pound ceramic urn that I made during my sophomore ceramics class? Who needs a dress from Paris? Why do I love paper? How come I can’t seem to rid myself of my many volumes of Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Dickens, and Austen…

Am I the only one with this trouble? I don’t need these things…


My two volume set of David Copperfield is a lovely sage green with gold lettering. I purchased it at Titcombs Bookstore during a beautifully sunny day on Cape Cod with my Uncle Herbert. That visit was the last time I would see him.

All of my paper… the high quality linen/cotton blend is made to hold its form as water and paint seeps into its pours. The smooth and creamy sketch pad that has weathered many a hike in my little red REI daypack through the mountains ready any moment to be a platform for my spew of pastel-described thoughts. Those blank pages filled with unfulfilled potential just waiting for inspiration and creativity.

As for my little French dress… would you be able to say no to a cranberry red dress that Marie, an exquisite Parisian stylist, says in a dreamy southern French accent fits perfectly and looks absolutely stunning? “Ah oui, ma cherie! You must buy it!”  She had quite a compelling point.

That gargantuan 10 pound brick of a ceramic urn is a beast. Of all the things I could keep, why that one? It’s so big!

Well, ceramics was one of my favorite classes. It was the one class that kept me sane during one of my most academically challenging semesters in undergrad. When I graduated I threw out text books, notebooks, journals, paper upon papers of essays, research etc. But I kept the urn and it is now one of the very last relics from my college career–not to mention it looks really pretty with flowers in it.

Oh golly gee…

Now it’s time to move again…

Why do I have so much stuff?

In the courtyard of the Louvre, Paris


Marie Catribs

Brunching…that’s a word, right? Well along with bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, it’s one of my favorite things!

Saturday morning:

After a long 12 hours of work on Friday, I allow myself to sleep a tad on Saturday morning. I wake up to the sun peering through my crooked blinds and illuminating my small tower.

Stretching, I let my toe peak out from my blanket to test the temperature… Mhhhmmm…not too cold…

I glance over at my phone to find a waiting text from my brunch buddy. “Where should we go? What time?”

I jump out of bed! (Brrrr. It was a little colder than I’d thought).

After dressing quickly, I respond to my BB:

We decide on brunch part 1…

30 minutes? The Winchester? Cherie Inn? Marie Catribs?

The Winchester: Bloody Marry Hash Skillet (brussels sprouts – sweet potato – manchego cheese – charred onion – bloody mary jus – fried egg – shoestring potato – toast – dill pickle)                            Served on a wooden slab and adorable personal cast iron skillet!

After brunch part 1, we walk around, chat, admire the old victorian homes of Heritage Hill, soak up the sun shine, and begin our search for brunch part 2…


After much scoping out the options, and a great degree of consideration, we decided…

Ice Cream!

As I am lactose intolerant, we managed to find a creamery with a plethora of dairy-free options.

Yesterday, I had to most delicious vegan ice cream imaginable!

Loves Handcrafted. Real. Good. Ice cream      (orange blossom and tcho chocolate)


I can’t wait to see what we find next Saturday.


Step, step, step…
beat, beat, beat…
I turn on my playlist
and run.
An hour passes quickly.
“I’ll just go another mile…”
…and maybe another one.
No pressure.

The temperature wanes..
but I’m already numb…
how about another mile…

While my body works, my mind can rest.
I’m completely alone.
Oh, sweet solitude.

Running through the darkness,
I’m caught up in Beethoven and Schubert…
The moon is so bright
Brighter than the lights across the water.

Two, or maybe even three hours later,
(who knows)
my playlist ends.
I find myself back on my doorstep
My restlessness appeased…
for now.
I dread replenishment of energy
and the return of restlessness.
Then again…
I will run.