Can't won't will not believe it's August already. It's my birthday month and I really wanted to plan a solo trip somewhere to celebrate. Stockholm for four days? Too last minute? Maybe something closer. Grand Marais? Pretty much the same thing, right?
If you haven't yet, hop over to my sister's food blog to read about my whiskey drink called the Paris Stranger. Also, I wrote about not falling in love in a cafe in Paris. My dad read it and it made him tear up for some reason. Then my parents said they were glad I didn't talk to the stranger because he was probably a jerk. Huh?
Also, here are some pics from my summer at home. It's as lovely as it looks and then some.
This isn't home. It's the pizza farm near Lake Pepin in Wisconsin that everyone in Minneapolis has been visiting. It's only open on Tuesday nights, takes about an hour-and-a-half to drive to, and you have to wait another hour-and-a-half for the pizza. So, by the time you eat, it's the best thing you've ever tasted. It's some sort of beautiful, farmy, psychological pizza trick.
