It’s been two years since we arrived in LA, ready to start anew on the left coast. Fresh off a mostly snow-laden road trip, we were wide-eyed and optimistic among palm trees.

The 24 months since have gone by in an absolute blur. I put together the video below over the course of weeks and months. With gin on my breath and tears in my eyes, I scoured thousands of photos, hunted down video clips, and listened to song after song on a mission to find what evoked this season of my life.

This piece of history is positively one-sided. I took photos and video when things were good, when I felt happy, when the sun was shining.

Missing from this, are the moments when my knees gave out when I got a phone call about my mother’s health. The minutes spent searching for a flight to Boston that left within the next few hours so I could go home to my dad’s side.

I don’t depict the nights I got out of bed and paced the living room, or the nights it seemed like I was hugging Matt and my friends just a little too often and fervently.

Or the day I got let go from the company I'd spent most of my career with.

I also don’t show the twenty-something fruitless job interviews I embarked on, or the hellish three-day career I had for a flood restoration company that turned out to be a positively weird yet enlightening experience.

I don’t detail the countless “we appreciate your time but have decided to go in a different direction…” emails, or the hours spent figuring out how to apply for unemployment for the first time.

Missing are the moments spent on a cool tile floor in North Hollywood, hot tears streaming down my cheeks, while a sweet little dog kept trying to get me to play fetch.

And missing from this video is the fourth of July last year, when I awoke to find out my dad—my absolute rock through two years of hell—was having a heart attack.

 Matt and I were barely on a plane back to Boston when he uttered what we both had been thinking. “We’re going to have to move back,” he said. He didn’t make it a question, or act like there was anything at all to decide. We were going to do what we could to help my family, and we both knew it from that moment on.

Moving back to Massachusetts was energizing and gut wrenching all at the same time. A second cross-country trip that demonstrated the obvious majesty of this country left me feeling like there’s still so much more to see.

And remind me that wherever we lay our heads, we’re never too far from where we began.

Home is just state of mind.

Happy Taco Tuesday, everybody!

I called these "breakfast tacos" because the ingredients are obviously morning fare. However, as someone with barely anything in my fridge aside from bacon right now, I can vouch that these would (and will!) make a deliciously hearty dinner as well. This recipe is super simple and could be whipped up on a Saturday morning, or a Tuesday night, or whenever you've got a craving for some crunchy bacon and salty, comforting, mashed potatoes.

Also these would obviously welcome some scrambled eggs on top, too, if you're into that sort of thing. I don't judge your taco habits.

Anyway. We were talking about bacon, right?
Let's talk about bacon.
Cooking the rest of the ingredients, especially the tender potatoes, in the bacon grease is paramount here. I don't have to explain why, right?

I didn't think so.

Hey people!
So, it's June.
When did that happen?
I guess time flies when it's always sunny and you're often drunk. Or something?

Speaking of drunk-- you should probably crack a beer and make this queso. Doesn't it look melty and gooey and cheesy and stupendous?
Do you believe it's vegan? I sure didn't. And I made it.

A while back I told you about buffalo cauliflower and the wonderful people at Follow Your Heart. Today I'm armed with two more recipes utilizing their products that would be an excellent addition to your next party.

So, I mean, full disclosure here: I'm a carnivore. That won't be changing anytime soon.
But-- I'm also completely able to eat gluten, but a vast majority of what you'll find on here is gluten free. My fiancé is allergic to wheat, so I plan around him.

If you have a vegan loved one, you should plan around them sometimes. Don't be a steak-eating-dick and offer them a side of burnt, grilled vegetables when they stop by your barbecue.

Offer them the queso you made for everyone that just happens to be vegan! I can assume they'll be quite grateful and you'll have just gone from would-be asshole to party hero. Do it.

You should also make the chipotle bean dip below, too, to further solidify that hero status. This stuff was great for dipping veggies but would also make a great addition to a sandwich, taco, et cetera.

Let's get on to the snacks, shall we?

Hey friends!

Memorial Day has come and gone, so I guess it's unofficially summer. I thought we could all use a cocktail recipe today. Or three. You know, whatev.

Since moving to LA, the land of exceptional Mexican food-- whether it be from a fancy schmancy spot that serves duck confit tacos, or a food truck that's just posted up on my block-- I have become a margarita enthusiast. I always enjoyed a little tequila and citrus, but I never sought out variations as much as I have in the last year. Probably because out here, margaritas aren't composed mostly of sour mix and bartender bitterness. Here, they take that shit pretty seriously.

So I figured I should, too. I also had a hankering for a spicy drink and decided DIYing it for a blog post was probably a better idea than going to a bar at 2PM on a Thursday (still unemployed over here, obviously!)

So, without further ado, here's three different margaritas made with simple ingredients, a little muddling, and a fair amount of love and booziness. Enjoy!

A few weeks ago, we had people over our place on a Sunday evening for drinks, grilled meats, and the usual enjoyment of a Southern California day in our backyard. One of Matt's friends from school came with his adorable girlfriend, which was a welcome addition to our usual group of six or so.

At one point, I came in from outside to check on the food or something, and I caught our new friend standing in our living room, intently staring at the wall.

"It's like you live in Pinterest," she said, studying each individual photograph in the 84 image collage. "It's so cool."

"Thanks!" I replied. "It was easy!"

And it really was. I mean, I get it, I suppose. What I think of as a simple little weekend project gives a lot of people anxiety. The fear of a project becoming overwhelming, or worse-- terrible once it's complete-- tends to hold people back. I know it does for me.

But I've always been one to decorate. I've never been the type of renter who throws their hands up and says "nope! Can't change a thing!" when trying to live somewhere. I usually don't paint, but I will bang nails in the walls, and cover the cabinets in temporary wallpaper, or sometimes hang fabric everywhere, and occasionally even stick seven dozen photos to the wall with removable adhesive.

It happens.

But the result is always a place that feels like home, whether we live there just a year or longer. I may be thousands of miles from where I grew up, but this little apartment in the San Fernando Valley feels like it's just where I'm meant to be.