Hey There, It's Christa!

My Favorite New York Moments

I can't believe it's already been two weeks (!!!) since we returned from our whirlwind week in NYC, but alas, it has, and I haven't even (gasp!) downloaded our vacation pictures from my phone.

But even though I'm way behind on the downloading, that doesn't mean I can't write about our trip anyway and sub in a pic from one my all-time favorite movies, right?

It's New York appropriate, after all...

In another one of my favorite flicks set in NYC, Serendipity, Sara (Kate Beckinsale) asks Jonathan (John Cusack) about his "favorite New York moment" as they ice-skate on their impromptu date in Rockefeller Center.

Answering "Well, this one's climbing the charts," she announces she's flattered before prompting falling on her bottom. Incidentally, only Kate Beckinsale could make falling look that adorable...I probably would've sprained my ankle, hence why I never ice skate.

But I'm getting off on a tangent...typical Christa behavior.

Anyway, with Serendipity in mind, I thought I'd share a few of my favorite New York moments from our recent trip (in no particular order, of course)...

Pizza for Breakfast: On our first full day, we thought we'd start the trip off with a proper breakfast. So after hitting up Dean & Deluca for coffee, we decided against the coffee cake and chocolate croissants in search of an omelet or waffles or anything relatively substantive. But then, quite unexpectedly, we came across the most delicious smell that kicked any other breakfast options straight to the curb—the smell of yeasty, freshly baked NYC pizza with an array of fresh toppings. And while it was technically too early for lunch (10:45 to be precise), we simply couldn't ignore the pull of such deliciousness. 

In case you wondered, yes, it totally lived up to our respective sniffers' hype. While Will went straight for the meat lover's varietal, I chose a slice of white pizza with gobs of gooey mozzarella, garlic, basil and a healthy dollop of homemade ricotta, and it pretty much changed my life.

Broadway x 2: We saw two incredible shows that really couldn't have been more different from each other—a musical, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying with the littlest Jo Bro in the lead (he was actually really good) and Death of a Salesman with the always-fantastic Philip Seymour Hoffman and Andrew Garfield of Social Network fame.

Every time I'm at the theater, I regret that I don't go more often because I love it so much. That was definitely the case this time around, too, well, except for the $14.00 drinks. But they do make a mean amaretto sour at the Ethel Barrymore theater—you know, just in case you were in the market for one. :)

Exploring on Our Own Terms: Aside from the Broadway shows, a couple of restaurant reservations and meeting up with my friend Anna, we really didn't keep much of a schedule during the trip which allowed for all kinds of fun adventures. I absolutely loved all the walking, people-watching and seeing everything from mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral to the natural charms of Central Park to all the random shops (and trust me, some were very niche to say the least) we spotted along the way.

Seeing What Paintings Will Loved at the Met: I've always liked art, but I feel like a total flunkie whenever I'm looking at it with Will. Not only does he know so much more about the paintings' historical contexts, but I absolutely love seeing what he likes and what he doesn't and why. So as you can probably imagine, checking out the Met was an absolute pleasure, even if he does like Picasso more than I do. :)

Viva La Vida-After arriving at LaGuardia on Sunday night, we took the shuttle to our hotel in Midtown, and our driver graciously let me sit in the front seat. Since it was around 10:30 and pitch, pitch black, my first view of the Manhattan skyline was absolutely stunning. I can just never get over how beautiful—and big—this city is. And with Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" playing in the background, I'll probably never hear that song again without thinking of NYC.

Artichoke Lasagna at I Sodi-A stone's throw from historic Bleeker Street in the West Village, I Sodi is this great little Tuscan restaurant I kept hearing about, and now I totally understand why. From the warm crusty bread and fruity olive oil that arrived not long after we sat down to the truly innovative pasta and second courses, I couldn't stop smiling. And while I'm sure their traditional lasagna is quite delicious in its own right, I simply couldn't resist trying the artichoke lasagna since it a different way to eat one of my favorite vegetables. Such a revelation, by the way. It was so good that I barely had room for the chicken main course.

The Sweetest Things: For better or worse, I have a serious sweet tooth. And while I tried not to indulge every whim (and trust me, the array of sugary delights are practically endless), I did sample a few sweet treats of note—a cupcake at the famed Magnolia Bakery (mmmmmm!), a veritable vat of tiramisu that rivals about any I've had to date at Patsy's and roasted banana ice cream at Dos Caminos, the ideal sweet finish to one of my all-time favorite meals. In case you're curious, I always get the irrestible guac and chips and the open-faced crunchy shrimp quesadilla that probably doesn't sound like much when you're reading about it, but is absolute perfection when you're wolfing it down. If only we had Dos Caminos in DFW...okay, it's probably good that we don't.

Being Among All Sorts of Creative People-When you're in a coffee shop in Nashville, many of the conversations revolve around the music biz, while practically everyone in L.A. is talking about movie scripts, acting gigs and the like. But in NYC, the conversations were so varied—there were writers talking about their next book, playwrights, poets and musicians who sang everything from opera to Indie rock. I absolutely loved the diversity and couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be a writer living there on a regular basis. Incidentally, for inspiration, Will took a picture of the Simon & Schuster office for me.

While most people will stop and take a snapshot of the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty or Rockefeller Center, we opt for the Simon & Schuster building. I kind of love that about us...

The Third Time's Truly the Charm in NYC...

Considering I grew up in a city with no stoplights and less than 4,000 people, a veritable behemoth like NYC can feel a little intimidating the first time around.

And when your first trip to "big city" coincides with Black Friday, well, multiple that by like a million. I was a fish out of water in the manner of Will Ferrell in Elf, minus those garish yellow tights and love of pre-chewed gum of course.

Even though it's been almost nine years now, I still remember being on the verge of a claustrophobic fit smack dab in the middle of an H&M. Simply put, I'd never been sandwiched between that many hungry bargain hunters before, and I was struggling to breathe.

After unsuccessfully navigating the sale racks (in oh-so-cute but nasty blister-giving shoes to boot), my friend Adrian took pity on me and decided to introduce me to all the touristy must-sees instead.

So for the better part of two days, we hit up Times Square, Rockefeller Center, Ground Zero and the Empire State Building, not to mention a holiday performance from those fierce kicking Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall.

Basically, short of wearing one of those ubiquitous I ♥ New York t-shirts, I was every local's worst nightmare.

After checking all the iconic sites off my list, we then indulged my love of all things pop culture by  taking the "Seinfeld" bus tour complete with Junior Mints, a drive by the café that Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer frequented and a visit to the Soup Nazi's domain, where he almost denied me the bread to go with my minestrone because I didn't move to the left fast enough after ordering.

Last but certainly not least, I was given a crash course in the art of haggling for the best price on  Louis Vuitton knock-offs . While they looked anything but authentic, I simply had to have a purse since the real thing is like $1,400. But after I was labeled "much too eager," hence an amateur, by my street-savvy friend, I settled for a fuzzy pink winter hat instead (don't ask).

All in all, that late November excursion was a great introduction to all things NYC, but I still couldn't wait for the city to feel a little more like home the next time around.

Thankfully, my second journey to Manhattan two years ago went a whole lot smoother. I was in town for all of 48 hours for a movie junket, so there was no time for frivolity. Still, I had a few free hours to walk around and explore (and yes, I actually learned my lesson and wore quasi-sensible shoes), so I made sure to do just that.

Let's just say I think the Upper East Side and I got along just fine, and thanks to a cozy Italian meal at this cute little local bistro, the people watching was superb, too—always a total bonus when you're a writer in want of inspiration.

But of all my visits to NYC, the third time was totally the charm. Not only was it Will and my first time there together, but I actually (gasp!) felt like I belonged there...

More on that in the next blog post, I promise. Unfortunately, this post is already getting a little long, and I wouldn't want your eyes to glaze over from reading and reading and reading. It's Memorial Day weekend, after all, so consider that my gift to you. :)

Until next time...

:) Christa

So, What Happened to March?

It's fitting that I'll be spending the last two days of March on an airplane because that's exactly the kind of month it's been—eventful.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I like eventful.

As we speak, I'm (finally) updating my blog from my hotel room in Beverly Hills. I'm making what's basically a glorified cameo in California for a press junket for The Lucky One.

Since I got here today at 10:00 a.m. PST and am leaving tomorrow at 4:00 p.m., I've been packing in as much fun as I can in the meantime.

After making my way from the airport down the perpetual parking lot that is the 405 and checking into my room, I ventured over to Robertson Blvd. in search of sustenance. And since I'm a creature of tradition and wasn't dressed nearly fancy enough for a power lunch at the Ivy, I couldn't wait to eat the chicken quesadillas w/jalapeño pesto and charred corn salsa that I always order from the Newsroom.

Now if you haven't been to the Newsroom before, lemme tell you, it's an absolute treat. Not only are the bulk of menu selections a lot healthier than your average restaurant fare (but still incredibly tasty, which is a total bonus), but the people-watching is absolutely priceless. To wit, I've seen burger eaters and wheatgrass smoothie lovers peacefully co-exist, and unlike most places with a decidedly free-spirited vibe, it doesn't smell like hummus or patchouli.

Thank goodness.

But as I walked closer to the Newsroom, I discovered something thoroughly unsettling—no lights, no people and a typewritten sign taped on the door. Yep, they were CLOSED today. For renovation.

Sigh.

So with a grumbly tummy and no quesadillas or mindless magazine reading in my immediate future (yet another perk of eating at the Newsroom), I was forced to try some place new.

And when you're trying some place new, it's never, ever a bad thing if the restaurant specializes in Italian food, right?

As it turns out, Cuvee was a fantastic find. While it took a gargantuan amount of self control to resist the specials that included penne with a pink peppercorn mascarpone sauce and pappardelle with lobster and cream, I opted for something light and delicious.

First off, was an Italian chopped salad with a light and zesty vinaigrette. In addition to the usual salad accompaniments like tomatoes, cucumbers and homemade garlic croutons were a sprinkling of exotic olives and oooey gooey boccaccini, which are basically the cheese equivalent of heaven.

Since I was so responsible in ordering a salad rather than the pasta I really wanted, I decided to order a half panini to round out the meal. Filled with juicy grilled chicken, basil pesto and the admittedly un-Italian avocado which took it waaaay over the top, it was pretty much the perfect sandwich.

Aside from my passionate love of any sort of pasta, what I've always loved about Italian cuisine is how the simplest, freshest ingredients are elevated to new heights. For the record, the food at Cuvee totally fit the bill, and I'll definitely be eating there again.

As for what else has been going on, just a few days before making my way to La La Land, I was visiting this adorable girl, her parents and my Mom in Colorado.

Doesn't her smile just make you want to smile?

Yeah, me too.

Like always, we crammed a lot of fun into just a few days, and I continue to marvel at how fast little Miss Adelyn Grace is growing up.

We played hide and seek, we read her new favorite story "Curious George Goes Camping" and per usual, I was wowed by how much she's been learning.

She's quite the smartie, that Adelyn and total sweetness to boot.

And when I wasn't trying to find the perfect hiding place to keep Adelyn on her toes, I was playing Scrabble with her grandma, shopping with her Mama and during one very special day, Lindsey, her best friend Erica and I made our way to Littleton to meet the Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond.

Little did we know, however, that the meet & greet would involve me standing in line for five (!!!) hours.

Yeah, Lindsey and Erica both deserve a medal of honor in the category of patience...

Apparently, I'm not the only one who loves Ree—and those comfort food recipes of hers. While I'm about the last person in the world who'd love living on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, I've been a fan of her blog—and Food Network show for a while now. Not only is she a major proponent of using butter and cream in her cooking (and really, who doesn't love those?) and loves romantic comedies as much as I do, but she's got a great voice which makes her blog thoroughly entertaining and informative.

Like the best people, that warmth and wit that makes her prose so much fun to read totally translates in public, too. Not only was her presentation a lot of fun, pitchy rendition of "Endless Love" and all, but she never stopped smiling, even after signing books for five hours.

Yes, FIVE hours and a genuine smile through all of 'em...

While I was convinced my feet were going to fail me (yes, I was wearing impractical shoes, naturally) by the time I finally made it to Ree's table, she was totally sweet and made time to chat with each and every person.

Gotta love it when people you admire turn out to be cool in real life, too.

In addition to flying the friendly skies and hanging with family, I've been writing like a madwoman, watching a slew of good and not-so-good movies, reading a fantastic travelogue titled Paris My Sweet and reminiscing about Will and I's time in Europe since it's been a (gasp!) year ago now.

All that to say, life's been good...and I'm incredibly thankful.

I'm Dreaming of the L.A. Farmers' Market...

If you don't have the time or money to hopscotch from one exotic locale to another (and really, who does, especially these days?), I recently found the perfect way to travel around the world—no passport required.

Like some of the best discoveries in life, it was completely accidental. I'd heard of the L.A. Farmers' Market, of course, but never knew exactly where it was. But when my sister, her best pal Erica and I were in town to celebrate Lindsey's birthday a couple of weeks ago in La La Land, we made this rather happy discovery.

Now I've been to some pretty great farmers' markets, and at one point, even lived across the street from one in St. Paul, but nothing comes close to this. It literally goes on and on and on, and you could easily stay for the entire day and not get bored. But lemme warn you if you do, you'll want to be wearing pants with a some give because there's seriously yummy vittles around every corner.

And if you're there, do yourself a favor and grab an apple fritter at Bob's. It will change your life, and that's coming from a girl who isn't even a doughnut person. I don't think I've ever tasted such sticky, heavenly deliciousness in humble fritter form before. In fact, my mouth's watering just thinking about it. That, and a cup of coffee, and you'll be set for a couple of hours at least.

Whatever food you fancy, whether it's Italian, Indian, Thai, Spanish, Mexican, French or some  incredible looking falafel, they've got it—and then some. Even if you're feeling healthy, which of course we weren't that particular day, the selection of fresh fruit and veggies looked pretty incredible, too.

Adding a whimsical, unexpected flare to the festivities were all the cool specialty items. There was a shop that only sold stickers. Another featured imported candy, cookies and gifts from Europe. And while I didn't end up ponying up the $9.50 for my own bag, I was quite intrigued by the chocolate penne at a homemade pasta shop. Just looking at it reminded me of what Barefoot Contessa always says about something so utterly decadent: "How bad could that be?"

Yeah, it involves two of my favorite things—chocolate and pasta—so I'm thinking it wouldn't be too bad at all. Maybe next time, and I really hope that next time is soon because we had such a good time exploring all the unique local businesses nestled inside.

Adventures in Europe, Part 4: Viva Italia!

I intentionally ended yesterday's blog post with an ellipsis because I knew I had so much to say about Rome and didn't want anyone's eyes popping out of his/her head while I was yammering on and on and on...

Truth be told, I left for this trip longing for inspiration. It's not that I'm having a full-fledged case of writer's block or anything horrible like that. It's just when you write what I call "stylish copy on a deadline" for a living, well, you need a fresh jolt of creativity from time to time. And when you're writing your new novel, that spark is especially important—even if you're really excited about the story you're telling.

So needless to say, when I got to Rome, I absolutely fell in love. As our cab driver drove us from the train station to our hotel (for the record, I'd never, ever drive here, there's absolutely no rhyme or reason to the zig-zagging cobblestone roads—just one of Rome's many charms), I quickly realized that I'd never been anywhere quite like it. Or even close.

After checking in to our lovely hotel, Will and I were starving something fierce. As absolutely luscious as café cremas are, they're still not a full breakfast, so we knew some lunch was in order—pronto. Lucky for us, right across the street (yes, a mere 30 seconds away) was the most incredible little pizza shop.

Considering the place only had two tables inside and a small counter that a couple more people could comfortably eat over outside, if it hadn't been for our hunger, we probably wouldn't have even noticed it. But I'm a firm believer that growling bellies give you even better eyesight, so it was destino that we discovered it.

I've never been that big of a fan of woodfire pizzas (in my experience, the crust is either too charred or downright soggy), but they officially won me over. The crust was perfectly crisp and buttery and simply adorned with the freshest, most flavorful toppings including smoked fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, caramelized onions, basil and the sweetest plum tomatoes.

It was so good, in fact, that Will and I went back for thirds (they sold them in large squares) and successfully tried every variety they had. Mmmm. Then with bellies full of deliciousness, we drug our sleep-deprived selves back to our hotel for some much-needed R&R.

After getting a few zzz's, we eventually ventured out to the Spanish steps, a 40-minute walk from our hotel, and I was immediately wowed by the city's intricate architecture and all those sidewalks cafés that were practically tailor-made for people-watching.

While I could go on and on just about the food alone (trust me, we didn't have a bad meal the entire time) and satisfying our daily "need" for gelato (stracciatella was our favorite, hands down), what inspired me most about Rome was the Italians' zest for living.

Whether it was the front desk clerk at our hotel who enthusiastically mapped out the places we absolutely, positively must visit while we were in town, the barista who made our café cremas or the couple enjoying a post-work glass of wine together, they seemed genuinely joyful about life. And something that's particularly rare in our Smartphone culture, I didn't see a single soul staring at their phone or updating their Facebook status either. Instead, they enjoyed life's simple pleasures—conversation (gestures are a must) and a great glass of vino.

Unlike, say, NYC or even London, the pace of life (save for driving) is so much slower, too. Especially since we were on vacation, that's something Will and I had no trouble getting used to as we admired the breathtakingly beautiful art in the Vatican, strolled through the Colosseum (so much cooler than I imagined, particularly since I'm not much of a history buff) and bravely plunged in our hands into Bocca della Verita (yes, all our digits are still intact).

My only complaint is that we didn't have more time there. In fact, I can still picture our sad faces as we sat on the rooftop terrace of our hotel, sipping coffee and eating pastries before heading to the airport. But even without throwing a coin into the famed Trevi Fountain, one thing's for sure: I know that we'll be returning to Rome one day soon. And just like I suspected it might, going to Rome has only made me more excited to see the rest of Italy, too.

So here's toasting to Italia and newfound inspiration for my writing now that I'm back home! Salute!

Adventures in Europe, Part 3: From Paris to Italy With Love and Claustrophobia

Maybe it's my insane love of pasta, parmesan and the perfect slice of crusty bread rubbed with garlic and topped with fresh basil, a drizzle of olive oil and the sweetest of tomatoes or all those repeat viewings of Roman Holiday, The Talented Mr. Ripley and Under the Tuscan Sun over the years, but I've alway dreamed of vacationing in Italy.

And unlike some experiences that can't possibly live up to your lofty expectations, well, Rome was even better (!!!) than I'd imagined. In fact, I've always said that London is, hands down, my favorite city on the planet. But after visiting Rome, I gotta say that London has officially dropped down a spot.

Sorry, London.

Continuing our whole planes, trains and automobiles experience, we traveled from Paris to Rome via an overnight sleeper train. Considering I'd never slept on a train before, let alone overnight, I learned quite a bit about myself on the 20-hour journey—namely that I wouldn't do very well as a prisoner.

Aside from my general disdain for camping, (yeah, me and the Great Outdoors aren't exactly the best of friends), I've always thought of myself as fairly low-maintenance when adapting to new sleeping situations. But that definitely all changed with this trip.

At first, I was sure the bottom bunk was my ticket since I was afraid of falling to my imminent demise from the top one, which was way too high for my liking. But once I tried settling in, well, I started getting rather panicky in those close quarters. I couldn't even read, let alone fathom how I'd actually fall asleep. So being the sweet, obliging hubby that he is, Will traded bunks with me.

For the record, there wasn't much more breathing room on the top either, but at least I didn't feel like I'd be swallowed up by claustrophobia. So after reading another 100 pages of The Paris Wife, a novel that was nearly impossible to put down once you got started, I tried giving my peepers a break. But the more that I hoped to get lulled into a deep, deep sleep, the more impossible it became. So I watched many, many hours tick by before eventually falling asleep for, oh, 45 minutes.

After our train came to a unexpected and rather jarring stop, however, I woke up again and was a big ol' mess to boot. In the dark, the already-close quarters felt even closer, and I was sure I was going to start hyperventilating—pronto. As I felt my breathing quicken, I opened the shade and that helped. But since I knew that resting was pretty much out of the question (I'll sleep when I'm dead, right?) I propped myself up on my elbows and watched the miles and miles of gloriously undeveloped land roll on by.

And then before I knew it, the sun was out, and we were officially in Italy.

In case you're curious, Italy looks just like the movies—all rolling hills, rustic homes and trees for miles. Unlike the States where there's a strip mall every few miles, I was overcome by how peaceful it all was here. And when I eventually spotted the sign for Parma, I started getting really excited for my first Italian meal since Parma is probably best known for its deliciously salty prosciutto.

With blissful thoughts of antipasto in my head, I drifted off for a couple more hours before finding out that because of several train delays, we'd be getting into Rome even later than I thought.

But a couple of café cremas later, Will and I didn't even care.

All in all, we were on the train for 20 hours because of the aforementioned delays, so we were more than happy to vacate the premises once we finally rolled in Rome. And once we stepped out from the train station to the taxi queue, Will and I immediately realized that we were truly in another world...

 

Adventures in Europe, Part 2: Paris When It Sizzles

Back before Will and I were Mr. + Mrs., we were always introducing each other to a few of our favorite things...namely, the books, music and movies that rocked our respective worlds.

While we already shared many, many favorites in common, there was still a bit of a cinematic learning curve, considering he'd never seen Roman Holiday, and I had never experienced the awesomeness that is The Godfather (apparently, citing all the Godfather references from You've Got Mail didn't count).

So on our third and fifth dates respectively, we knocked those off the list and continued our educational journey by throwing our most-beloved books and music in the mix, too.

And thanks to Will, I'm a now a full-fledged fan of The Replacements, Nick Drake, and yes, even Bob Dylan, and my iPod's so much better for it.

Now I'm sure you're probably wondering what any of that has to do with Paris, but trust me, there's a method to the self-proclaimed Tangent Queen's madness. See, one of the best novels Will ever bought for me was Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, a book that easily ranks in my top five today.

For whatever reason, I'd always been of the opinion that Hemingway was overrated—nothing more than a drunken bore (I guess I was right about one of the two anyway). In fact, I'm pretty sure I was supposed to read The Old Man and the Sea back in high school, but I didn't make it past the first 10 pages. Something about the title, not to mention his prose's oh-so-languid pace, didn't exactly inspire me. Ditto for Ernest's enthusiasm for pine-scented forests and bull fighting in For Whom The Bell Tolls and The Sun Also Rises. Yawn.

But A Moveable Feast, well, that's the proverbial horse of a different color. Not only were Hemingway's observations about people so wry, engaging and at times, laugh-out-loud funny, but his description of his time spent writing (and yes, boozing) in Paris immediately transported you there. Suffice it to say, my desire to visit "The City of Light" increased exponentially after reading.

Sure, I'd always dreamed about strolling down the Champs-Élysées with my madeleine, tiny coffee and a few shopping bags to boot, but after reading A Moveable Feast, I wanted to be wherever Hem, Hadley, F. Scott and Zelda were, too, including the illustrious Shakespeare and Company and the coffee shops and bistros they frequented in Montparnasse. Plus, Notre Dame. Can't miss Notre Dame.

So needless to say, as much as I hated leaving London, I was thrilled to get to Paris. I don't know about you, but it just doesn't seem right that after a mere two hours on the Eurostar from London, you're in PARIS! As crazy as the traffic is here in DFW, two hours of travel sometimes means I've merely made it to the other side of town. Or am an hour away from Austin. Seriously those Brits have it made...

After settling into our seats with our snacks (a café crema + M&Ms=the breakfast of champions), Will had a brilliant idea of how to make two hours fly by—playing Scrabble (and yes, we have not one, but two travel-sized sets). For those keeping score at home, I won the first game, Will won the second, and before long, we were enjoying the gorgeous French countryside where even the graffiti-lined walls still look posh somehow. For all its beauty, I half expected the sky to be pink.

And while the sky wasn't pink, it didn't take long for me to fall in love with Paris's myriad of charms anyway. Not only was our hotel the cutest little home away from home (complete with the tiniest little tiled bathtub known to man and a killer mini-bar with plenty of water con gas—my fave), but all the sights and smells were truly something to behold. Frankly, Hemingway was right on the money...

To properly explore Paris, I'm thinking you just have to go ahead, take the plunge and become a local because really, there's much to experience. But since we only had a short time, we did the best with what we had, meaning they'll be plenty of reasons to come back—soon.

Now, a few random observations about our time in "The City of Light"...

*Apparently, not finishing your plate is the same as saying your food wasn't good. During our first meal at a charming little brasserie in Montparnasse, my eyes were definitely bigger than my stomach. For my starter, I ordered French onion soup because I've always been a fan and thought it would be even better in Paris than, say, Panera. As predicted, it was absolutely marvelous with a ton of gooey Gruyére and toasted, buttery baguette on top, and I finished every irresistable drop. Trouble is, that didn't leave much room for the sole meuniére that I chose for my entree. So even though it was pure buttery bliss (and I'm not even a fish lover normally), I only took a few bites, which inevitably led to my server to raise her eyebrow and ask if I liked it. Funny enough, the same thing happened again with an unfinished omelet at breakfast the next day. I guess if you don't finish, they take it pretty personally. So at subsequnt meals,  I made sure that I finished every bite—especially dessert. Mmmm.

*Eggs, Bacon, Salad? With the exception of the breakfast where I ordered banana pancakes, there was always a side of field greens with homemade vinaigrette next to my breakfast fare. Now don't get me wrong, I always love a good salad; I'm just not used to it with scrambled eggs and bacon. But hey, I guess that's not a bad way to make sure that you get enough greens, right?

*Yep, it's true...Yes, 99.9% of the French—especially the women—dress way better than we do in America, and scarves are an absolute must.

*It's okay to be a tourist, especially when your legs hurt. I'll admit, when I first got to town, I thought the people sitting on the top level of this double-decker tour buses looked silly and touristy. But when you've walked and walked and walked some more, they are an absolute godsend. Plus, even without the headphones, I felt like a got a great view of the city without even trying.

*Eiffel Tower: Cool, but...I don't need to spend half a day waiting to reach the top ever again. If I had one tiny—and I mean miniscule—complaint about my time in the fair Paris, I would've skipped the trip to the top of the Eiffel. Yes, it's one amazing view of the city, but I think I would've been okay just admiring it from afar.

*Shakespeare & Company: Nope, once isn't enough (we went twice).

*The Lourve: Looked great from the outside, but opted out of time with the Mona Lisa to shop and do a bit more exploring instead. Found a killer apron, an adorable new spoonrest for my kitchen, two cute little tees for the cutest niece on the planet, perfume and as a major bonus, stumbled upon the biggest Sephora I've ever been to. Yeah, it even puts the one in NYC to shame...didn't think that was possible.

*And the verdict is...The Barefoot Contessa has always insisted (on several episodes of her show, natch) that it's impossible to have a bad day in Paris, and you know what? She was right. I absolutely loved walking through this amazing city with my hubby by my side, and who knows, maybe our time there will even inspire our future writing, just like it did for Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the list goes on and on...

Adventures in Europe, Part 1: Strolling (Sometimes Running) Through Londontown

It's been one crazy post-vacation week, let me tell ya. If I had my druthers, I would've started blogging way back on Monday morning. But when you've been out of town for almost two weeks, well, you can imagine how crammed my Inbox was.

It was downright terrifying.

Now that I've wrapped up my writing deadlines for the week and answered all those e-mails, I can't wait to start telling you all about our trip.

Truth be told, I still can't believe our holiday—as the Europeans call it—has already come and gone since it's been more than a year in the making. But our time away was absolutely spectacular nonetheless. In fact, my only real complaint is that it just wasn't long enough. I could've spent another week in just Rome alone.

But before we venture to the Eternal City, let's rewind to our first stop, shall we? Good ol' Londontown. As I mentioned in my previous post, London has always had a special place in my heart, and nearly seven years after I last visited (!!!), it's still quite the charmer.

We ended up staying in a neighborhood that I hadn't visited before—Shepherd's Bush—a great change of pace from the tourist-packed Piccadilly Circus area that I've stayed in previously. The hotel we called home for three days, K West Hotel & Spa, was lovely and in walking distance to a slew of great coffee shops (Costa was our favorite) and a monstrosity of a mall known as The Westfield.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even bother mentioning the mall again since we've got one in oh, every 10ish miles in DFW. But The Westfield, well, it's not exactly your standard-issue shopping with Macy's, Claire's and an Auntie Anne's pretzel shop. In fact, I'm thinking it's probably the oh-so-regal cousin of the shops clustered together in Caesar's Place in Vegas.

With its gleaming, marble-esque floors and great lighting that I'm sure Posh and David Beckham would approve of whenever they're in town, The Westfield is all about the high-end—Versace, Vuitton, Vivienne Westwood, basically anyone who advertises in Vogue. I did spot a lone Abercrombie & Fitch, but I'm guessing that its presence is more about the half-naked models in their ads than the totally awesome jeans they sell.

Needless to say, it was great fun to simply window shop since I'm not planning on strutting down a catwalk any time soon. If anything, my favorite stop on The Westfield excursion was the nearby Waitrose. It's no secret that I love a good grocery store (and since it's good enough for Kate Middleton, it's good enough for me, right?), so it was fun slowly strolling down the aisles and not recognizing much of anything.

The candy aisle alone was to-die-for. While I'm sure that Kate has the willpower to walk by without as much as a second thought (she is getting married in front of millions, after all), Will and I couldn't resist the pull of so much imported chocolate. So we chose a couple of Belgium bars that barely made it to the checkout line. In a word: bliss.

The rest of our London adventures were just as fun and low-key as we recovered from the long overnight flight across the pond. Since Will and I have both already seen the changing of the guards, Westminster Abbey and the like, we opted for a less by-the-book approach to exploring the city, namely the Will and Christa way.

First stop? Notting Hill. So off to the Tube we went (minding the gap, naturally)...

Funny enough, I forgot just how fast-paced life is inside those tube stations. Similar to when you're walking the streets of Manhattan, there's no time for dawdling when people are practically running to make it to the platforms on time. So I promptly put my sluggish self in another gear because I saw that if you don't kindly move out of the way, chances are, you'll get run over—even on the escalators.

And given my propensity toward extreme klutziness, I promptly got my cardio on because sprained ankles definitely aren't your friend on vacations. Thank goodness I was wearing my UGGs rather than impractical heels, right?

All that sprinting was totally worth it, though. Notting Hill was as enchanting as ever with its multi-colored flats, charming little parks and sunny, tree-lined streets (yes, there wasn't a cloud in sight, a rarity in London). And while the Portobello Market wasn't in full swing (it was a weekday), we stumbled upon the next best thing—a perfect little bookshop with an owner who couldn't have been sweeter.

Dimly lit and about the size of most people's attics, the store featured a small gathering of new and old literary treasures loosely organized into their respective categories. Fiction, non-fiction, travel, mystery, biography—all genres were represented, and I gotta say, the shop had one of best old book smells, too—something you can't experience when downloading novels to a Kindle.

As we perused the titles, the owner promptly asked us where we were from (I guess our accents didn't exactly scream "local"), what we planned to do in London, etc. And when we said we were searching for some great Thai food for lunch, she certainly delivered. Turns out, there was a pub close by that had incredible Thai cuisine along with the usual fish & chips, shepherd's pie, etc.

When ordering Thai food at a new place, I know that most people's go-to choice is Pad Thai. But I've always been more of a red curry girl myself. I love, love, love how all that spicy flavor is perfectly in balance with the rich coconut milk and all those veggies and chicken (yeah, I'm practically salivating as I'm writing), and the red curry at Churchill Arms definitely didn't disappoint. The red curry and spring rolls were absolutely mouthwatering, and I cleaned my plate in no time.

Later that evening, we ventured over to London's West End where we saw "Wicked," and I'm thrilled to report that Will survived all two and a half hours of Oz goodness without complaining once. :) I won't even say it's because he had a couple of beers along the way...ha ha. Ever since we started dating (and even once we said "I do"), Will's always been great about tolerating my girly choices in entertainment, rom-coms (as long as it's not Legally Blonde), endless seasons of "Gilmore Girls" and more, so I wasn't surprised that he was a good sport about "Wicked," too.

I'd been wanting to see "Wicked" forever and somehow, I seemed to miss it every time it rolled into town, so I'm glad we got to see it somewhere wonderful like London—made for a very fun night on the town. Plus, the songs were catchy, but not annoyingly so—always a winning quality in my book.

For the rest of our short time in fair London, we wandered around Covent Garden (where we noshed on the highly recommended a fish & chips at Rock & Sole Plaice), Oxford Circus and the Tottenham Court Road area. We sipped coffee, read, daydreamed and enjoyed the people watching, which pretty much made for the perfect beginning to our adventure abroad.

Lastly, for the record, no, we didn't buy any of the Will & Kate wedding memorabilia that was everywhere in London, although some of it (like the Will & Kate cookie sheets) were quite comical indeed.

London Calling (and Paris and Rome, too)

When you're a kid growing up in small-town Wisconsin, you can't help dreaming about all the glamorous locales that exist outside of America's Dairyland.

It's like Sandra Bullock's character said so eloquently in While You Were Sleeping: "It's amazing how exotic Wisconsin...isn't."

But before you assume that I'm dedicating an entire blog entry to ripping apart my home state, rest assured, I'm not. There's plenty to love about Wisconsin—the Packers, for one. Cheese, and plenty of it, for another. And you gotta love how feisty Wisconsinites are about fighting for their rights. Let's just say the Beastie Boys would be proud.

Plus, if Wisconsin didn't exist, my personal history would've been radically altered. See, that's where my parents met, where I was born, not to mention where I spent the first 18 years of my life in a lovely yellow house on 11th street. So as much as I love to kid about Wisconsin, it's not a bad place in the least. It's just cold for months and months at a time, hence my departure...

Now back to what I was talking about in the beginning...travel. I've always been drawn to it like (insert your favorite simile here). In fact, many of my favorite books growing up—and even to this day—involved protagonists who lived, worked and played somewhere thousands of miles away from where I did—London, Paris, Sydney, Bangkok, Milan, Madrid, Salzburg, New York City, you name it. For whatever reason, their lives seemed so much more enchanting and exhilarating than my own, and whenever I read, I lived vicariously through those experiences—no passport required. And thanks to our local library, everyone else's adventures kept me going while I patiently waited for my own to begin.

Funny enough, as much as I thought about leaving my familiar confines, I didn't actually get my first passport stamp until I was 26. Unlike the bulk of the missions majors at the university I attended, visiting somewhere like Burman or Banglaedesh wasn't actually part of my course requirements, much to my chagrin. And since college kids aren't exactly known for their deep pockets, traveling just for the heck of it was out, too. So I was content to see a bit more of the United States whenever I could. The rest of the world would just have to wait.

And then, it finally happened. After moving to Nashville and starting my writing career with CCM Magazine, my journalism degree paid off in some international travel dividends. Our editor decided the time had come for an international music issue and would I be interested in flying to London to interview Delirious for the cover story?

Um, yes, please...

So just before Christmas in 2003, I flew to London all by myself. And while the idea of traveling alone—let alone traveling across the big ol' pond alone—would be downright depressing to some, I still consider it one of the best things I've ever done. While it probably sounds like I've been bunking with Oprah or something, I learned so much about myself on that trip, so I really can't recommend solo travel enough.

Sadly, none of the pictures I took did the experience justice (perhaps a testament to my shoddy photography skills?), but I still have so many vivid snapshots in my mind that instantly transport me back. Walking around Notting Hill, coffee in hand, looking at the candy-colored houses and wondering about the people who lived in them. Singing Christmas carols with a church-full of strangers during one of the prettiest holiday services I've ever been to. Eating fish and chips with a complete stranger at a local pub who had no idea who (gasp) U2 was, let alone where Tennessee was on the map. Riding the train through the countryside to Arundel and writing about my time in London in my journal (yeah, for the uninitiated, that's what life was like before tweeting was invented).

Basically, it was all as magical and wonderful as my younger self's dreams were.

Now several years and passport stamps later, I'm about ready to embark on another European adventure—with my dear husband. It's the first time we're traveling abroad together, and I can hardly wait. In addition to reconnecting with my favorite city on the planet, London, we're also heading to Hemingway's playground and the home of gladiators, the Sistine Chapel, and what I'm guessing is some pretty incredible spaghetti and gelato.

And while I definitely plan on taking lots and lots of pictures, I'm guessing the best memories will still be the ones I write down. So if you're game, plan on hearing all about the Banister's 5th anniversary trip (or as my friend Melissa Riddle-Chalos calls it, my second honeymoon) right here.

I do plan on tweeting about it from time to time while it's happening, too (thank you iPhone), but the goal is just to enjoy the moment. After all, I've been daydreaming about it for a long time now...

Book Comment: Lunch In Paris by Elizabeth Bard

When Will first saw the cover for Elizabeth Bard's Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, With Recipes at Barnes & Noble, he immediately knew it was the sort of book I'd love, and guess what? He was absolutely right.

It was one of those thoroughly enjoyable reading experiences that couldn't help but bring a smile to my face with every turn of a page. And for the record, it wasn't just because she served up one mouthwatering description of croissants, cheese and chocolate after the next...

Seen, unlike a lot of memoirs where the author comes across as a little, well, narcissistic and unapproachable, you really felt like Elizabeth was an old friend as she described the ups and downs of being a New Yorker (with a French husband and in-laws to boot) in Paris.

Case in point: Even after a month-long hiatus when reading has, unfortunately, had to take a backseat in favor of more pressing issues like packing, I picked right up where I left off today (and finally finished it off) like I'd never stopped reading in the first place. Whether she was spending the afternoon shopping for fresh ingredients at the market, having a major career crisis or languidly walking through the Louvre, you couldn't help but feel like you were there, too, just one of the many pleasures of the journey.

And if that wasn't enough to entice you to read, as a bonus, all the recipes tucked within the prose sound positively heavenly, too. I mean, c'mon, chocolate cream with créme anglaise, anyone?