Croatian Honeymoon Adventure! It begins...

So I know you've been waiting for this.
No I don't. That's stupid.
Why would you be waiting for my Honeymoon? That's absurd.
I'VE been waiting for this. All year. And it's finally here. We're in it. Right. NOW!

When people asked Ryan and I where we went on our Honeymoon, (since yes, it's been 9.5 months since we said "I do.") we were met with some very puzzling looks when we replied that we hadn't gone anywhere. Yet. These puzzling looks turned to wide eyes and slightly furrowed brows when we told them where we would be going: Croatia!
"Why'd you choose Croatia?" was the usual response that would follow. Sometimes it would be a more excited, less-skeptical "Oh! A friend of a friend of a friend of mine went there and said it was fabulous!" We liked those responses.

The truth of the matter is that Ryan has been practically everywhere and I've been nowhere. Okay that's not true. I've been to many of the cosmopolitan cities in the USA, Canada, Mexico, the Carribean on a cruise with my family when I was 12, and Paris. I don't think I could list the places Ryan's been to on this blog. It would become a completely different post.

At any rate, when deciding where to take our Honeymoon, certain ground-rules/criteria were laid.

Number 1: This was Ryan's thing. As he told me after about 6 months of dating (yes, we had a relationship check-in and the "M" word was brought up. Ah! Scary!), "Jessika, you know how every little girl dreams about and plans her wedding? Well every boy (Man? Maybe it's just Ryan... haha!) dreams about and plans his honeymoon." In my mind it made sense. So I got to have my dream wedding if he got to have his dream Honeymoon. Not only did it seem like a fair exchange, but a win-win situation for both of us.

Number 2: It had to be a place Ryan had never been to. As stated before, Ryan's been all over the world. This trip needed to be a new experience and adventure for both of us. He needed to be able to cross another country off his long list.

Number 3: It had to be in Europe. This was actually my teeny-weeny stipulation. There are so many places in Europe that I want to visit. And we had to narrow down the playing-field somehow.

Number 4 (and most important!): We had to win. And by "win," I mean we had to have the most unusual, crazy-amazing Honeymoon ever. A co-worker of mine is going to Iceland, Paris and Prague for his Honeymoon so I don't know that we actually accomplished this one but we like to think in a small way we did for the budget we have. 

So with this crazy criteria (yes, we are a bit intense about this thing), we started looking. One day I was looking at Jetsetter.com and they had a package titled "Sail Croatia." The photos blew our minds. Croatia?
This is Croatia?!!!!

We started researching and found that not only was it beautiful, but it was everything we wanted: Amazing food (think a mix between Greek, Italian and Turkish food focused on fresh fish, lamb, figs, olives and wine), great beaches, crystal clear water, vineyards and olive groves for days, nature unspoiled. Did I mention amazing food? A paradise for the foodie. And the temps at this time of year typically range between mid-seventies to high eighties.

DONE. Croatia here we come!

So that's probably more information than you wanted.
But we couldn't be happier with our choice. And with all the craziness of this year, we are also really grateful that we waited this long to take our Croatian Honeymoon Adventure. It's been something to look forward to - the proverbial dangling carrot if you will. It's been something we've both needed after a long season of dancing, health struggles and hard work. But it's something that we're both prepared for and able to enjoy. The days that followed our wedding were a blissful haze. Another way to put it: slap-happy and exhausted. There's no way we would have had the the energy, mentally or physically to really enjoy this trip. And to be honest, we were both a bit depleted when we got here, but there's nothing like salty sea breezes, hot Adriatic sun and delicious Croatian food and wine to replenish the heart, mind, soul and body.

There is much more to come.... in this Croatian Honeymoon Adventure as well as our life together. And you'll be hearing lots more from both realms. For now I've posted some of my favorite funny photos from the trip.
Many more posts to come!
I promise!

Cheers!

Jessika

Nothing

Hahaha! So here's how I'm going to start this one... Time to rewind a bit. Okay a lot!

Let's return to those school years. Those elementary school days, or better yet the middle school or junior high ones. Either way I guess this photo is a little too old for my illustration... we were still so young and sweet back then. But wait, weren't we always like that? Haha! Kidding. I was no angel. 

At any rate, elementary school was the only time that we took the bus to school, and that's only if we made it to our stop on time. I remember my mom chasing our bus down to drop us off at the next stop. Sometimes it wasn't the next stop. I think by the end she knew our bus route better than some of the drivers. Sometimes I wonder why she didn't just drive us to school. It was probably the same or less mileage. 

By the time middle school came around she was doing just that. Our bus days were over. She really was (and is!) the best mom. And when school was over she was usually there to pick us up. A little late, but I don't think she ever forgot us... I think... 

Our car conversation on the way home was pretty standard and usually was repeated around the dinner table when my dad got home from work. Let's see if it sounds familiar to you as well...

Mom: So. How was your day today honey?

Me: Fine.

Mom: Oh. Well, what did you do today?

Me: Nothing.

Mom: I'm sure you didn't do "nothing." You were there all day. What did you learn in your classes?

Me: (pause) Nothing.

Sound familiar? My poor mother. I really do feel for her and all parents who try so desperately to engage in their kids' lives through good conversations. They volley over so many questions and probes to get the dialogue started, but all they get back are one word dead ends. And the one word of choice?
Nothing. 

Well I'm sure I'll have to revisit this again when my husband Ryan and I have kids of our own. Hopefully, my stealthy question-asking skills can bypass the dead end response. But this post isn't an examination of parenting skills... I kind of wish it were.

Nope.

Lately I feel like I've been having that same dialogue with myself.
I'll get home at night after a long day of work and I'll take an inventory of the day. Sure I might do a lot of things, but what have I really accomplished? What impact did I have on the people around me? What words did I speak? What attitude did I exude? Was it loving, kind, compassionate, joyful and selfless? Did it bubble over with smiles, bright eyes and blessings, or were my eyes critical, brow furrowed and words full of grumbling, irritation and cynicism? My stomach churns as I acknowledge the truth: that I see the latter far more than the former.
And the truth is that the latter isn't just "nothing," as my car-ride dialogue would suggest. It's actually quite worse than that. This disgusting negative outlook and attitude has a putrid, poisoning affect, on myself, on my poor husband who receives the tail end of it when I come home, and on those around me at my workplace. I've done nothing. Nothing good. But with this attitude that sometimes seems to spread like an air-born illness, I have sown seeds that breed bitterness, resentment, self-pity, anger and, well, death.
This is not who I am.

I will say it again because it's worth saying.

This is not who I am.

Maybe that doesn't make sense because clearly this appears to the behavior I exhibit. But I know myself. I know deep down that this is not who I was created to be. And I know that I've been rescued and redeemed from a life that's enslaved to such blight. He has lifted the veil and enabled me to see and experience His goodness, love and light. And I am made new in Him. But the choice is mine... whether I want to live in that newness, trust in His goodness, walk and speak with joy that comes from a grateful heart humbled by His love or live in darkness with the furrowed brow of bitterness and the heavy coat of resentment and self-pity that make it hard to see, walk, breathe, even live.

No. Summer's coming! I don't want that heavy coat. I'm done with it.
I made the choice to be done with it a long time ago... way back in those elementary school days. But I'm reminded that it's a choice I have to make every day. To choose joy. To choose gratitude. To choose love. To choose to trust. To choose to live.
And I want to live this life well.
I want to be able to look back at my week, my day and see that I haven't done "nothing." I don't even want to settle for something. I want to feel like I've been a blessing to others and not a curse. I want to spread a smile. I want to walk through the door at night and tell my husband with bright eyes that I've had a great day. I want to live in the freedom and newness that I've been given and I want to offer it to others. And above all I want to honor, serve and love the One who offered me this most precious gift. I want to know that I have done the work He has set out for me, and that I've done it well through His power at work in me.

That's the key. I need Him to do this. I can't will myself to have a sunny outlook especially when I live in Seattle. Haha... bad joke. But seriously, I'm not that strong. I need to get back in the habit of asking Him every morning to lift my eyes above my circumstances and keep them fixed on Him.

So that's my Sunday morning confession and my new resolution.
To live this life well. To choose joy. To choose laughter and smiles. Even on the hard days. And to ask for His help, strength and power to do that.
I don't want to leave a legacy of "nothing."
I want to leave the lasting legacy of Christ.

Buried Treasure

Hmmm...
How do I want to start this one?

I think I have about three different drafts sitting on my computer - false starts and half written posts that well, for some reason or another fell short of me either finishing or hitting that bright ominous orange button on the top right corner of my screen... the one that reads "Publish."

Scatterbrained. This seems to be my ailment of late. An ailment that is quite uncharacteristic. In general I'm usually never at a loss for words (yikes... should I actually be telling you this? True confessions I guess...). I usually know exactly what I want to say and how I want to say it. Or if I don't, it doesn't take me too long to figure it out.
But lately I've been finding it so hard to focus. Could it be the out-of-this-world weather we've been experiencing here in Seattle? Perhaps. Could it be my severe case of "senior-itis" as I count down the days till Ryan and I leave for our Honeymoon to Croatia? Probably. Or could it be the enormous distraction of online shopping for my trousseau, a.k.a. Euro summer wardrobe, that's inhibiting my brain from formulating any sort of organized coherent thought? Well... yeah.

And yet lately something deep within me is crying out. A desire. A dream. It bubbles up at least once a week. And my confession? My embarrassing admission? I've so squashed it down that I hardly recognize it when it struggles to swim to the surface through the busyness of my distracted life.

What is this part of my heart that yearns to be acknowledged? The talent that desires to be unearthed? The thing that I feel most compelled to do, as if my breath, my being depended on it?

TO WRITE.

Anything. Everything. A babbling of words vomited on the page or screen. Nonsense. Literary garbage. Nothing remotely worth clicking the ominous orange button. But it must be done. I'm compelled to do so however much I fight it. And sometimes I do...

I've been reading this book.
It's one of those books.
You know... the ones that kinda creep you out because no one could know so exactly what's been going on in your mind, heart and life. And yet every single time you pick it up you feel as if that writer had stollen your journal or installed a secret baby-cam in your home. Like I said, this is one of those books.

Freefall to Fly is a beautiful book. I mean the cover?! The Robin's-egg blue. The whimsical font. It looks like it'd fit perfectly on a shelf at Anthropologie. DONE. Sold. I'll read it. Or at least start to read it. Another confession: I'm a serial book starter, but have a hard time making it to the finish line.
But Rebekah Lyon's words are just as, if not more beautiful and enticing than the cover of her book.

Here's a little excerpt that speaks so much to what I've been experiencing the past few weeks:

"What were my earliest joys and natural bents? What were the birthright gifts I'd seen show up over and over again in my timeline of years? No one really knows if these gifts come from our genes or our experiences. We tend to ponder our aptitudes alone or with those we love and who love us, feeling guilty for even suggesting the idea.

Me? Talented? Am I even allowed to think about such things?

But if God has buried in each of us good gifts, doesn't it follow that He desires for us to use them? To ignore these gifts or fail to develop them, it seems, would be to bury our treasure..."

The funny thing is as long as I can remember I've always wanted to be a writer. I wanted a ranch in Montana with a little white farm house, a big porch and that was where I was going to write. It's one of my earliest dreams that I can remember having. And I don't really know where it came from. I have stacks of notebooks full of ramblings, screenplays, ideas, schemes and dreams that no one was allowed to read except myself. If anything comes close to a "birthright gift" I think this is it. And I don't want to bury this treasure anymore. I want to invest it. I want to develop it. I want to use it to bring God glory.

I want to write.

So I guess I should just do it, huh? Even if it's complete garbage. Practice makes perfect right?

What are your birthright gifts? What were you created to do? What desires have you been squashing down with busyness? Don't bury your treasure. Don't be afraid to hope and dream. If you trust the Lord He will make a way for that treasure to flourish and grow.

Cheers!

Jessika

Summer Preparations

I need to figure out a better system for this.

It’s a glorious day here in Seattle.

I mean GLORIOUS.

It really doesn’t get better: pushing 80˚F, with a slight yet constant breeze that keeps the sweat from pouring out… unless of course you’re sitting in a car, because let be honest, no one has (or knows how to operate) AC in their car here in Seattle. You need it, oh, about five times a year…

So since I have this week off I’ve made a promise to myself that I’ll write. The problem is, the lovely coffee shop just down the street from our apartment is 100% engulfed in shade. Yeah. That’s a no-go. It’s practically a sin to miss out on the golden deliciousness of sunshine and vitamin D that we Seattleites so desperately need.

I grab my coffee and continue down to Cowen Park, one of the many hidden gems we’ve discovered in our neighborhood, to park it on a bench. I find one with surprising ease. I guess it is a weekday.

And then I sit there.

Squinting at my computer screen. Scribbling with my finger on the mouse pad I search in vain for the itty, bitty black arrow that roams invisibly on my screen.

No internet.

The battery icon reads a rapidly declining 34%.

I very nearly throw in the towel and slam the laptop screen shut.

Like I said, I need to figure out a better system for this.

A LOT has happened the past few weeks since I last wrote.

This post would be far too long to include even a summery of those events. Not to promote any further procrastination, but I’ll have to save them for their own perspective blog posts. To bullet point them (as I’m oh so tempted to do), would be an outright injustice.

So you might be wondering what this posts about anyway, now that I’ve rambled on and on and on… honestly, are you surprised? Haha!!!

I’ve decided that I’m gonna keep it light. The suns out, the shades are on, and I’m ready for SUMMER!!! And six weeks from today my hubby and I will be hopping on a plane to finally go on our long awaited honeymoon. And where might that be?

CROATIA!!!!

To be more exact, the Dalmatian Coast. For two whole weeks! I feel like a little kid counting the days till Christmas. And I’ve already got my packing list started. Haha… okay it’s more like my adult Santa wish list…

But I guess that’s it for now. Gonna have to wait till I have the interwebs so I can download some pics… My task now? To work on that base tan. Haha! 

Cheers!

You can find most of these items at my the website of my future employer... haha! Or just go to an Anthropologie store. Others were found via the vast wonderfulness of Etsy with some of the lovely shoe options brought to you by Zappos and Amazon. 

I buy my jeans at... wait for it... Sears! Land's End Canvas brand are so outrageously affordable and they fit better than any designer jean I own. And the must-have maxi dress I found at Forever 21. 

Can't you just picture me zipping around the croatian coastline on a little Vespa in these outfits?! AHHHH!!! 

If only... :) 

Doesn't hurt to dream!

The Ultimate Period

I really don't know how to write this post.

That sentence, along with the salty drops that are stinging my already bloodshot, sunken eyes makes me seriously question whether I should write this post...
When initially setting up this blog (a college course assignment), my writing professor strongly cautioned against cathartic blog posts. It might feel good, might even bring a sense of healing... but that kind of writing is generally meant for a personal journal or the therapy session, not the world wide web.
Well I guess I'm sort of breaking that rule with this one.

On Thursday evening my Gramma Lolo passed away.

How does one follow that sentence? What am I supposed to write after it? What is there to write? It's not really a sentence. It's a statement. A pronouncement. Seemingly, it's the ultimate period. And why do we use the term "passed away?" What does that even mean? Away to what? It can sound so hopeless. So futile.

"All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field... the grass withers and the flowers fall but the word of God stands forever." ~ Isaiah 40:6b, 8. 

We humans, our lives, they are futile. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But God's Word is eternal. It's withstood the test of time. I spent the greater part of the morning scouring through it looking for what He has to say about heaven, hope, resurrection and death, since I seem to be at a bit of a loss. His words are always better than mine anyway... And as usual His Word came through.

"Where O death is your victory? Where O death is your sting?" It has been swallowed up by the victory given to us through our Lord Jesus Christ! He promises to wipe away the tears from all faces. Promises and proclamations that bring me comfort.

As I write this I'm sitting on the couch in my apartment listening to the big fat raindrops bang on the metal balconies of the building next door with an occasional sunburst sneaking through the clouds -  nothing out of the ordinary for a spring Saturday in Seattle. And yet I find this bi-polar weather very much mimics my emotions.
Grief is an odd thing.

I know I shouldn't be sad. In fact I want to rejoice! My Gramma Lolo has not "passed away" into some dark empty void. On the contrary she has entered into the kingdom of light. She has been raised up with Christ and seated with Him in the heavenly realms, to the place that He has specifically prepared for her, so that she might be with Him. Now this makes me tear up!
She is now clothed with the imperishable and immortal - with her heavenly dwelling. She has a new body and is no longer held hostage in the withering shell that has confined her for so long. She has been set free. She has finally gone home. She is sharing in the joy and happiness of her Master and Creator.

For those of you who don't know my Gramma Lolo (my mom's mom), was a resident of St. John's Nursing Home in Billings, MT for 37 years. She was a sweet, petite yet incredibly strong woman who loved Jesus, loved her family, and loved to sing. When she was pregnant with her fourth child she suffered pre-eclampsia which resulted in a major brain hemorrhage. The baby died and she was left severely debilitated. (In layman's terms think Lady Sybil from Downton Abbey, only my Gramma survived and the baby did not.) My Grandpa cared for her for 8 years but it became too difficult for him with 3 children and so she was placed at St. John's Nursing Home and that has been her home ever since.

It's hard to describe Gramma Lolo to people who've never met her. While the "accident" as we like to call it, left her verbally and physically challenged, when you spoke with her or visited with her it was clear that all her mental faculties were very much intact. She knew what was going on. You could see it in her big beautiful green eyes. And I found that that only seemed to increase over the last few years when I visited with her.
Not only that but her joyful spirit, love of music and love of Jesus have always been her hallmark. Everyone, I mean everyone at St. John's knew Lolo. They knew her cute little laugh and her sweet voice that was often humming a tune or hymn. I think she'd learned the secret of being content in every situation.

The last time mom and I visited her was a little over a month ago. We'd spent a week with her and on our last day, Sunday, we had a small worship service in her room. Gramma was laying on her bed coming in and out of sleep, but as mom read this passage from 2 Corinthians I saw her eyes open as she drank it in:

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you."  ... 

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  

This is who my Gramma Lolo was. A beautiful jar of clay. She carried around with her the death of Jesus so that His life might be revealed in her. She taught me and so many about long-suffering and that it is possible to rejoice in all circumstances - to consider trials pure joy, fixing her eyes and her heart on worshiping her Lord and Savior. And now she is with Him. He has brought her faith to completion. She is made new.

Death is not the "ultimate period" for God. It wasn't for my Gramma Lolo and it won't be for me. And I'm so very excited to see her there in Heaven. I can't wait to talk with her and dance for her. I can't wait to see how God used her over the past 37 years to fulfill His purpose in and through her. A mystery only He can and I'm sure will reveal some day.

Death does not have to be the "ultimate period" for you too...

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"

Do you believe this? I pray and hope you do!

Celebration!

On our way to and from Pacific City, OR - where Ry and I went to celebrate our six month wedding anniversary, and fulfill my Christmas gift to him - we passed through Portland. 

Our ETD (estimated time of departure) was 3:30pm. We left around 4:30pm. Even though it was a Thursday night we both braced ourselves for the horrendous traffic we'd surely be sitting in, particularly since it was a glorious day - few and far between up here in the PNW during the winter months. The worst part of the drive was on the 99 Viaduct, but how can you complain when you get to see the sun setting on the Puget Sound behind the Cascade Mountains? Pretty spectacular. 

Miraculously we made it down to Portland by about 7:30. I'd brought a handful of magazines for reading material and this one just happened to be in the bunch... 

How convenient.

My tummy started to rumble. It was 7:30pm. We had to eat, and we just happen to be in Portland... Why not just eat food, but eat well? I did a little on the spot iPhone research... thank you Eater Portland app... and off we went to the Firehouse Restaurant in NE Portland. It was delicious. 

And this little sideshow foodie detour reminded me of the last time we spent a weekend in Portland. Surprisingly, our previous visit was my first time experiencing this burgeoning city and tasting of its culinary delights. 

We'd gone down to celebrate my birthday. I'd been stuck in our apartment all week icing my knee with a potentially torn meniscus. It was a week fraught with many emotions and doctors visits. Not only did I go to our sports medicine doctor, but I had to dish out another $20 co-pay to my naturopath so we could get to the bottom of the mystery illness I'd been battling since September. He drew some blood for a food allergy test and said he'd probably have the results back early the next week. So this Portlandia food adventure was my last chance to throw down the "ignorance is bliss" card. And boy was it blissful! 

But just before we left I received some great news... No meniscus tear!!! Wooooooo!!!! Happy belated Birthday to me! :)

Our first stop was Clyde Common for a celebratory drink and a delightful meal. The drinks: superb. The food: delightful. The ambiance: dark and romantic. The photos: didn't really turn out.

Bummer. Guess you'll just have to take my word for it.

Saturday we slept in and woke up to a lovely brisk fall day. The plan: Powell's. I'd only heard of this Everest of bookstores (okay maybe it's a Mount Rainer), but had yet to lose myself (and my day) within its rooms and rows of treasures. We had to be sufficiently fueled for such an undertaking. Byways Cafe was just the spot. 

Since we'd slept in, it was definitely a little later. Okay a lot later. But we both wanted breakfast. You just can't start your day without it! We were in luck! Byways Cafe serves it all day long and it was just a short walk from Powell's. Reminiscent of an old-school diner, it was full of collectable plates, character and smiles. The food was lovely and the service was sweet. Their pancakes looked "to-die-for," so if you can eat gluten I'd go for those! 

Our bellies full and hearts happy we headed off to Powell's. 

And Powell's did not disappoint. In fact I got 75% of my Christmas shopping done that very day. Books for all! We walked back to our hotel that evening, lugging our loot, but then it was on to the next adventure... Dinner!
After extensive research (what else was I going to do all week on the couch while icing my knee?) I'd weeded through many menus and decided on Old Salt Marketplace in the Northeast neighborhood. 

Seeking out the restaurant was an adventure in and of itself. It's not that it was difficult to find, it's just that Portland's comprised of mostly quaint, adorable old homes dotted periodically with pockets of retail shops and restaurants. No wonder Portland's known for its foodies... How could you live here and not be, when your local haunt serves microbrews and menu items like "roasted sunchokes, parmesan fritters, hot coppa, bagna crudo"?

It was a busy night at Old Salt, so we drove down a few blocks to grab drinks and then returned. We were not disappointed. The beet and carrot salad was out of this world and my duck was one of the best I've ever had. Definitely worth the drive!

So I guess there are a couple cities where the Sunday Brunch reigns supreme. Let me give you a hint... Portland is one of them. And choosing your spot proves quite a difficult task. I'm not going to lie... I chose this place because of the decor. Just so happens the food was phenomenal too. The Woodsman Tavern. I found it while perusing the Eater Portland blog and knew we had to eat a meal there.
Side note: Eater is a excellent resource for finding great food when traveling... I've used in it NYC, Portland and San Diego and it hasn't let me down once.

Have you ever had a moment where you see something and you're like "Did someone sneak into my brain and steal that idea because I thought of it first!!!"? Let's just say their wall of paintings is exactly the concept I had for our apartment... But that's for a later post.

They had a buckwheat pancake that I was really hoping would be gluten-free. Yeah. No such luck. But... their bourbon baked apples were... ugh. I don't even think I can describe how mouthwateringly delicious they were. And the bacon! I won't even try... Haha!

 Ryan had The Lumberjack breakfast. Appropriate with his beard and flannel. He looked like he belonged there. Or on the cover of a Brawny ad. 

A little disappointed I'd yet to find any baked goods that were gluten-free in this food-conscientious town Ry and I drove up Martin Luther King Jr Blvd on our way out of town in search of our final treats before our celebration weekend came to a close. I mean we did need some coffee for the drive... 

And Tula's Gluten Free Bakery & Cafe came through! 

We grabbed our coffee, to-go box of goodies and some gluten-free dinner roles for our upcoming Thanksgiving feast and hit the road. And boy were our treats tasty! Ryan devoured his chocolita bar.
Gluten-free? You coulda fooled him...

It was a great weekend. One I'll remember fondly... or at least my stomach will. It was a celebration. And we celebrated well. 

If you have a chance I hope you can check out some of these fine establishments. They're really wonderful! And I hope to have more restaurant-recommendation blog posts in the future as well. We sure do love good food! 

Cheers and happy Friday!