Oh My Sweet Carolina
I first visited Charleston as a freshman in college, to visit my first love, my then boyfriend who attended The Citadel, or as it’s formally called–The Military College of South Carolina. And while he’s an amazing person whom I’d predict now is a doting father and husband (if I had to guess … but I honestly have no idea where or how he currently is) the best thing out of that relationship was my introduction Charleston. Well, that and my first taste of Russian teacakes during the holiday season (courtesy of his mother). I was charmed by both, even then.
Charleston has it all including history–(um, hola Civil and Revolutionary Wars) and because of it, there’s a strong “across the pond” vibe going on–great boutiques, award-winning chefs taking local and Southern cuisine to a whole new level, and an integral, yet gorgeous harbor currently the nation’s fourth busiest container port. Celebrities love it too– Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe chose Charleston as their wedding location (hmm maybe not such a good example). My friend, travel and food writer extraordinaire Hope, says (I’m paraphrasing) that it’s the snootier version of New Orleans, and I think that’s a fair observation.
But, even so, I’ve always been more than a bit smitten with the city, much like that first boyfriend you always seem to go back to (no matter how immature and ridiculous things get). Though a side note, on this last visit, I noticed even Charleston cannot escape the housing market–there were loads of for-sale signs. One of the reasons I like Charleston so much is because of all of its old buildings (especially when compared to where I live in Atlanta), so, I was sad to see a lot of tearing down of old properties and building new this time around, which is never a good thing. But, this isn’t a piece on the economy or property development, it’s an article on traveling to one of the best little big cities in the South–the pop on Charleston.
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The Long Way Around
Leavenworth, Kansas circa 1800’s-Courtesy of the Command General Staff College of Ft. Leavenworth
When we visited Vancouver earlier this summer there was a chatty store owner talking to my mom, sister and I while we were shopping. She couldn’t fully comprehend how my sister could live in Maryland (she’s since moved to California), my mom in Kansas, and me in Georgia. None of it made sense to her. She kept asking why we didn’t live near each other–we all sort of struggled with an answer, but the easiest one was because of work. Which is true, but only partly.
There is something to be said about small towns. A quaint Main Street with boutiques, a past rich in history, where everyone knows your story. Leavenworth, Kansas, for me, is that place. Although we moved around quite a bit growing up, Leavenworth is (and likely will always be) home. It’s where my parents chose to set roots–where I attended school off of a military post for the first time, where I graduated high school, where friends I have known the longest live, and where my mother still is (with my brother and his family not too far either).
One of the oldest themes in everything from movies to music is the idea of leaving home. You know, putting the past town behind and starting fresh, in a new city. I did that. I left home almost a decade ago at 23 and haven’t returned much besides holiday visits and the occasional baby shower, hometown wedding, or milestone birthday celebration. I left my small town in Kansas in my rear view mirror for a job, which I’ve since also put in the rear view.
And while I look at my Leavenworth with fondness, I do feel a teeter-totter emotion of extreme complacency when I visit. When I go home I see the small town sadness and a desperation that is just not present in my life in Atlanta. Once I arrived here, I quickly came to the realization that I was a very small fish in a very large pond, especially compared to where I came from. I was nervous, scared shitless, excited and totally unprepared for the whirlwind of a life I would have here, those first few years.
Dynamic Dish
I don’t like food & drink reviews. Don’t enjoy reading them, or writing them. It’s all so subjective, I think, unless you have a really remarkable palate. I tend to gravitate towards much bigger picture trend pieces focusing on what the rest of the country is doing. Right now though, there’s a marriage of sorts with those two notions that is happening right in my own backyard.
Dynamic Dish is a restaurant in Atlanta owned and operated by David Sweeney. His philosophy in the kitchen is so on par with this national food movement (see Food, Inc; read Michael Pollan and Eric Schlosser’s books, if you haven’t already) where David is taking great care with the ideological food choices he makes not only with his restaurant, but in his life. His story connects everything from the land to the body (and every dot in between).
David only uses what he needs and certainly didn’t open Dynamic Dish as ginormous restaurant complete with a bored hostess standing around wearing a headset handing you a vibrating pager with blinking red lights to inform you your table’s ready. This is a quiet space, serving simple food that allows fresh, local ingredients to be the voice.
I do hope you enjoy my conversation with David as much as I did having it and stick with the length of the interview. I found myself hesitant to censor this piece by shortening it, he speaks so well about so much. We cover everything from the local food moment to the comparison of food as an outfit when used in peak season – sexy! Bon appetit! Oh, I should mention, they (Bon Appetit) know a good thing when they see it too, as they featured Dynamic Dish earlier this year. Here’s to feeding our mind, body, and soul…for many years to come.
French Milk
I’ve heard other writers complain when people openly admit to reading their book in a day or two, because it certainly didn’t take the author one day to write it. But, I read Lucy Knisley’s travel journal/comic/coming-of-age story in about that long. And I don’t think that’s an insult.
I found her book to be such a refreshing way to tell a particular chapter of life – that period in your early twenties, where you’re about to be on your own and excited about the possibility, but scared shitless and insecure all at the same time. In the end, Lucy’s story wraps around you all sweet and comforting, much like the milk in Paris.
I’m so thrilled with this week’s travel piece, a Q&A with Lucy Knisley, the coolest chick with a pen, and the author and illustrator of French Milk.
From Vet to Vet
My father wanted to be a veterinarian. He was attending Oklahoma State University on a wrestling scholarship, which was one of the only means for him to pay for tuition. His grades weren’t exactly on par with what was expected of collegiate athletes, and what happened to boys flunking out of college in the late 1960s was a little thing called Vietnam. There, my father went from vet to vet. I’ve often wondered how different his life might’ve been had he been a vet of the animal doctor kind instead of the one holding heavy artillery in the Da Nang Delta.
So, it got me thinking about all those moments in life when you’re headed one way and before you can blink, a crossroads occurs. I heard about these a lot when I worked at CNN–the stories of people who were running late to work at the World Trade Center the morning of September 11, 2001, or tourists who barely missed the 2004 Asian Tsunami by coincidently checking out of their hotel within hours of it getting hit. Or horrific outcomes of circumstance like Daniel Pearl who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time asking too many questions. It thankfully turned out differently for The Christian Science Monitor’s Jill Carroll whose updates I followed religiously and have left me wondering now, how that period has changed her life perspective.
But, these acts are all around us, not just on the news. Everyday, to folks much like my father.
They are the weddings being called off countered with those being planned. The teeter-totter of life, or as I call them, the Sliding Door moments. You know, the movie where Gwyneth Paltrow gets fired (or in the movie, “sacked”), in one scenario she misses the train, in the other, she catches it only to find her boyfriend carrying on an affair. Life’s parallel shifts.
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Asha Patel Designs
I’ve practiced yoga just shy of a decade now. One of the things I love most about it is that my practice is always evolving and changing. Since it’s become pretty engrained into my being, words like om have unfortunately lost their significance on me. So, I’m always appreciative when something comes along to remind me.
Enter Asha Patel Designs, which just launched a new collection called Threads. I am not a huge fan of buying things just to have them, so when items fall more into the want category than the need, I want to have a deeper reason for getting them. Asha combines my need for yoga with my want for a well-designed piece of jewelry. This creative guru juggles her design work with a full time job, a husband and role as a mother, and yet somehow manages to find balance in it all.
Our Q&A covers everything from creative inspiration as a soccer mom (err mum) to cross-culture living and the new direction in her work. Namaste.
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The Cup is Full
The last thing in the world I wanted to have happen when I started this site was for it to stress me out. Make no mistake; I think some level of stress and challenge in life is a good thing. In theory though, this was to be the arena for me to look the most forward to. And right now, if I’m being totally honest, it isn’t. Because this, alongside my other writing gigs, has gotten to be more than I can pull off, for now.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s partly because of this venue that I’ve managed to build up such solid work and for that, I’m very grateful. The full disclosure is this–at the beginning of the summer I went under contract to write a book–ghostwrite, and it, as you can imagine, is quite time consuming (and fantastic). I’ve juggled it thus far, but currently feel I’m not doing anyone any favors (other clients, dog, husband, family, and dirty dishes in the sink included) keeping this pace and this crazed look in my eye.
I always said that when I had my own company I would never want the work to suffer, any part of it. So, I’m slowing down. I’m trying a new format here with once-a-week-postings to publish on Tuesdays. I’d rather publish less often, but let the standard still be there than to go on pretending I’m not checking it off my mental list of articles to write in a week.
Like most changes in life, it’s bittersweet–on one hand I’m hoping it’s temporary, on the other, thrilled at the reality of being so busy at something I created. Until then, continue to enjoy reading, just at a less frantic pace.
Here’s to filling the cup, but not letting it run over.
Postcards from Ireland
Dublin is one of my favorite cities. And just because it’s fun to live vicariously through others, this week’s travel piece is a postcard of sorts. My dear friend is celebrating a birthday, so as an early gift, she and her husband enjoyed the sights and sounds of Dublin, Ireland.
Oh, and did I mention they attended one of the three U2 shows in Croke Park Stadium? A fantastic birthday present, indeed.
Since in today’s tech age the physical postcard has now been altered to text messaging, here’s the abbreviated summary with photos…
Bain sult as! (English translation from Gaelic-enjoy!)
SoWal, You’re A Star
Blue Mountain Beach
Okay. I admit it, I was wrong. Dead wrong. The beaches of South Walton, Florida (SoWal) are gorgeous and shouldn’t be described as anything but. Here’s the but–those beaches are sometimes called the Redneck Riviera, and that description alone was enough to deter me from ever making the jaunt, despite the mere 5.5 hour drive from Atlanta. As a girl who spent her formative years in landlocked Kansas, the fact that I can leave my home in the morning and be sitting on a beach by afternoon is reason enough to go, but I couldn’t get past that nickname.
Santa Rosa Beach
Twenty-six miles of beach situated on the panhandle of Florida from Panama City west to Fort Walton, are considered the Beaches of South Walton. And for the record, I was wrong to think the famed Redneck Riviera was anything except picturesque with emerald green waters mimicking those in the Caribbean and sand as fine as sugar. Since we were there for a wedding, I didn’t get to do quite as thorough of a job as usual scouting out places to eat and things to do in a locale, so this is an abbreviated take on good places to hit while you’re there. Because, I hope it now goes without saying that SoWal is a star.
The Real Slim Shady
When I launched danapop I had no idea that there would actually be someone with the name or a similar name. I mean, you do all the searches for domain stuff, you try to come up with something that’s brandable, and reflective of you … and danapop fit and I had no idea about this Dana Poplawski. A.k.a–Dana Pop (as her friends and coworkers, as best as I can gather, like to call her).
In short, I get hit often with email invites to parties and requests to join groups–she sounds like she has a pretty fabulous life, in all honesty. It reminds me of that Friends episode where Monica’s credit card gets stolen and the person who stole it is having a much better time than she is.
It got me thinking–what about those people who have the unfortunate names of someone else.
