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

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.

A Long, Long Jaunt Down I-35

Well, I'm officially living in the Lone Star state now, and my, my, my what a crazy journey it's been! I gotta say moving is truly not for the faint of heart.

After finishing up the packing (whew!) and officially saying goodbye to my downtown St. Paul abode, my friend Krista and I (along with Blackjack, Will and I's trusty black Toyota Highlander and Gretta, Krista's bossy but oh-so-helpful GPS) made the sizable trek to the place where everything's supposedly bigger and there's mouthwatering salsa and guacamole around every corner.

And thanks to our 16-hour journey down I-35, I crossed off two more destinations from my list of "States I've Never Been To" (Kansas and Oklahoma, for the record) and enjoyed a steady diet of classic rock (given how many times I heard Boston's "More Than a Feeling," you'd think it was a current pop song) and really bad country music where the lovelorn mourn the loss of their dog, their wives, their sanity etc. etc. 

When I wasn't tracking down the next totally bad song for Krista and I to listen to on our severely limited selection of stations, the people-watching and regular truck stop visits kept us plenty entertained for the duration. Truth be told, for such a long trip, the miles totally whizzed by, and before I knew it, we were finally in my new hometown.

In addition to taking a super fun road-trip with a fabulous friend,  I FINALLY got to see Will after nearly a month...a reunion we celebrated with a downright fabulous meal at Mi Cocina (try the cheese enchiladas there, and they will change your life, I promise) and a late-night showing of Eclipse, the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, I know. 

Since we're still waiting for our stuff from the movers, (don't even get me started on that), I still sort of feel like I'm on some sort of bizarro vacation when I wake up every morning. Dallas doesn't really feel like home yet, but I hope as I start getting our house in order (by the way, I love saying "house" instead of "apartment," I feel all grown up now), it will, y'all.

In the meantime, Will and I are thankful to have a place to stay while we wait (something I'm not very good at). When we moved to St. Paul four years ago, we slept on the floor for a good two weeks. So needless to say, a comfy bed in a lovely air-conditioned abode is definitely a blessing. Well, that and a huge supply of anti-frizz cream for my hair. Since it's humid and about a thousand degrees, my hair definitely looks worse for the wear without a little help from my friends at Aveda.

Lemme just go on the record and say I'm thankful for them, too. And I'm sure anyone who's forced to hang with me would agree.

7 Things I'll Actually Miss About Minnesota

Now that Will and I have started the oh-so-fun process of packing, this big summer move to Dallas is actually beginning to feel a little more real.

And as much as we've both complained about living in Minnesota (6+ months of winter will do that to you), there are a few things we'll definitely miss about the place.

After all, when you've lived somewhere for almost four years, you can't help but get a little attached.

So now, with no further adieu, here are seven things (in no particular order) that I'll miss about living in the land of 10,000 lakes.

My pal Krista B. (a.k.a. the "other" Krista)—Back in college days, I liked listening to my Brit rock loud—very, very loud. So while I was getting my dorm room in order, this girl walked by and had to see who the freak was with the loud music and all the green and gold Green Bay Packer memorabilia. Turns out, she was a fairweather Vikings fan, but she didn't hold my Cheesehead devotion against me since we had the same name and all. Cue: lifelong friendship.

The best thing about hangin' with Krista is that even though I've moved around quite a bit, (and she moved to Africa for a year, right when Will and I moved back to Minnesota—yeah, I wasn't bitter, ha ha) we've always managed to stay in touch and had absolutely no trouble catching right up (there's a reason Krista's dad calls us "Chatty Cathys") whenever we hang out.

And since we're both big fans of cooking, she's practically the only person who truly gets the undeniable importance of walking languidly through a Williams-Sonoma. Yep, she understands that you'd never want to miss out on any of the fantastic spice rubs or cool new kitchen gadgets, so every corner most be explored thoroughly. It's funny because every time we're there, we basically want the salespeople to box up the entire store and send it home with us because we want, well, everything they've got...

Caribou Coffee—I'm mostly a Starbucks girl, but I love absolutely love having Caribou as a delicious coffee back-up. In fact, most days that I'm writing at home, I'll walk through the skyways just for a Caramel Hi-Rise just the way I like it (skim, with the smallest cloud of whip on top). Plus, the baristas at my favorite Caribou (you know who you are, Jessie and Ashlee) not only whip up a great cup of joe, but keep me properly connected to the outside world.

All the Minnesota-isms—I love how everyone says "bag" like it's actually "beg." I also love how almost every time I tell someone who's not from Minnesota that I'm from Minnesota, the "yeah, you betcha" Fargo quips inevitably follow, even though Fargo is technically in North Dakota.

People also routinely inquire on whether I know Garrison Keillor personally and if I can score tickets to see him (I don't, and I can't). Equally intriguing is when I'm asked if I think Brett Favre will actually return and play for the Vikings this year (I'm not clairvoyant, but I think he will. Naturally, he won't actually decide until the night before he needs to make an announcement).

Saturday Breakfasts at Bon Vie—Since I haven't been to Paris yet, I gotta live vicariously through delectable French cuisine on occasion, and Bon Vie, an adorable little Parisian café in Cathedral Hill, does breakfast just right. Not only are the omelets simply out of this world, but the hash browns, well, I could go on about those for days. What's fun, too, is that the chefs are always switchin' up the menu, so you never know what treasures you'll find that particular weekend. In a word: Yum.

Landmarks, Parks and Those Walks on Grand Avenue—Thanks to living in downtown Minneapolis during my college years, I had plenty of time to explore all the sights...the Mary Tyler Moore statue on 7th, the cherry on the ginormous spoon at the Sculpture Gardens, the purple house where Prince used to live and lots, lots more.

But my latest chapter in Minnesota was in St. Paul, so it felt like I was living in a completely different city,  a welcome change of pace. I loved St. Paul for a lot of reasons—strolling by F. Scott Fitzgerald's place, checking out the very Euro-esque parks, not to mention the gorgeous St. Paul Cathedral and walking with Will on the always-picturesque Grand Avenue with all those fantastic houses that you make you downright envious on anyone who lives in them.

The Cooks of Crocus Hill—After I graduated from college, I was pretty sure I'd never step inside a classroom again. But since I've been back in Minnesota, I have absolutely loved taking cooking classes at The Cooks of Crocus Hill. Not only is the "homework" so incredibly fun, but I've learned things I never would've otherwise like making delicious fettuccine from scratch (yes, the actual pasta, not just the sauce) and whipping up delicious buttercream frosting that wasn't prepared by Duncan Hines first.

Noshing on Italiano at La Grolla—It's impossible to talk about our time in Minnesota without mentioning our favorite Italian restaurant, La Grolla. Not only is the atmosphere straight out of a Manhattan restaurant with  tables so close together that it forces you to get to know your neighbors, but I'm convinced that it's impossible to have a bad meal there.

Chances are, you'll be even more full than you ever thought possible, thanks to an array mouthwatering antipasto, to-die-for pasta dishes and a dessert tray that's out of this world. Who knew that using mascarpone instead of cream cheese would produce the lightest, most heavenly cheesecake you've ever sampled? I sure didn't before I tried theirs...and a meal there isn't complete without that—and a good cappuccino—to end things on the most exquisite of notes.

Three Cheers for Dining In...

I don't know how it happened, but Valentine's Day sort of snuck up on me this year. So instead of doing the whole crazy restaurant thing (one year, the only reservations available were for 4:30 p.m. or 10:00 p.m., neither very desirable options), I decided to cook for Will and I instead.

Now anyone who knows me well knows that I love making big meals...for me, it's so fun planning the menu, buying the ingredients, and then cooking for hours on end.

I hadn't done that since Thanksgiving, so I decided to go all out...comfort food for a chilly Minnesota night.

And my, my, my was the low-key night fun—and delicious. Plus, I figured out that even with a bottle of good prosecco, the whole meal cost about $30 to prepare, a veritable bargain compared to ordering out.

Like most people who call an apartment home, my kitchen wasn't exactly made for cooking a three-course meal, but like Tim Gunn regularly says on "Project Runway," I made it work. And I'm pretty sure I used every prep dish I own in the process...thank goodness, Will volunteered to do the dishes, right?

As for the menu...one of my all-time favorite pasta dishes is penne alla vodka, especially from La Grolla, our go-to Italian joint, so I decided to whip some up myself. I'd never made it before but figured it couldn't be too difficult—and thanks to a good recipe and some sweet San Marzano tomatoes, it worked like a charm.

To start our V-Day feast, I made a mixed greens salad with homemade vinaigrette and peasant bread with garlic butter and fresh mozzarella melted on top. And then came the pasta...all yummy and creamy and calorie-laden (but who's counting when it's Valentine's Day, right?). I'm pretty sure I'll be making that for another special occasion sometime soon...even without chicken or shrimp, it was pure bliss.

Of course, Valentine's Day wouldn't be Valentine's Day without a chocolate dessert of some sort, so I ended the meal with homemade molten lava cake with a drizzle of caramel and homemade whipped cream. After downing that, neither Will and I could move, so we settled into our carb-imposed stupor and watched The Thomas Crown Affair with a belly full of pasta, chocolate and love.

By the way, nearly three days after the fact, I think I'm still feelin' those carbs, but that's nothing some treadmill time can't fix, right? Let's hope so anyway.

It May Not be Spring in Minnesota...

But my honey sure made it feel that way with his choice of flowers for Valentine's Day. Love the pink striped baby roses (yes, they have itty bitty stripes on them, how cute is that?).