friday photo: the rest is history

I covered a tour of DC this week on a freelancing assignment. It felt strange, to be a tourist in my own city. It was a long day - half fascinating with facts I never knew and half get me out of here, I see this all the time. This shot at the World War II Memorial on the National Mall captured my attention. I've walked through the memorial countless times, but I've never stopped to really read the state names and the regions and countries honored who allied with us. This kid did, though, and he inspired me to do the same.

By far my favorite bit of history came in the form of a president past. After Andrew Jackson, a man with a fiery temper and a tumultuous relationship with Congress, took residence in the White House, construction on a new Treasury building was set to begin. The White House, situated on Pennsylvania Avenue, was in a direct line of sight to Congress, at the other end of the street. Andrew Jackson was asked where he wanted Treasury built. He said it didn't matter to him, except he wanted it to obstruct his view of Congress. His order was famously to "block my view of that damn place."

He also held an accidental kegger in the White House so big he had to climb out of a window to escape it. He was a force of personality. I like that in my presidents.

other things by me...

Japan's most beautiful shrines

 Mt. Vernon, George Washington's home

tips for first time visitors to Tokyo

Antique and flea markets at Tokyo's temples and shrines

am i happy?

I've been thinking about happiness lately. What makes me happy? In the past year, I've noticed that I have more leveled, even-keeled highs and lower lows. Before that, my highs were out of this world, astronomical, to the moon and back, and my lows were even-keeled, average, ordinary life. Here are the three times I've been my happiest.

Governor's Honors Program 

Growing up in suburban Georgia, I admittedly didn't have the best education in the world. But the one standout was the Governor's Honors Program. It's a six-week program that allows high schoolers to become de facto college students on the campus of Valdosta State University between their junior and senior years. The best part is that if you're accepted, you're there 100% on scholarship. For low-income students like me, it's a total game-changer.

I was nominated in Social Studies. For the first time in my life, I made friends instantly. I took classes on the psychology of serial killers, played a game re-enacting World War I, and studied how political campaigns have evolved over time. I almost didn't go that summer because I needed to serve tables and save my tips to buy a car to get me through senior year. My mom pushed me to attend. My current roommate, Matt, is a GHP friend, as is my running buddy and confidante Whitney.

Studying abroad in South Africa

The story of the first time I left the country and lived abroad is well documented on my "About" page. My best friend of many years "broke up" with me, and it left me more heartbroken than any romantic relationship. I drank the majority of a bottle of tequila and announced to my friends that I was moving to Africa. So I did. I studied in Stellenbosch, South Africa. I couldn't afford it - was working three jobs to stay in school. Somehow I got the scholarships and loans I needed and got into the program I needed to get required credits for graduation. It was my first time going somewhere completely alone. I came back spiritually and emotionally healed and physically healthier than I'd ever been.

Teaching English in Japan 

I didn't love my job (teaching English abroad is often like being a professional broken record), and I had the occasional breakdown. I battled with homesickness - like when I spent Christmas in Thailand. I got sick of Japanese food and the rigidity of the culture. But I traveled endlessly, made forever friends, and realized my passion for travel goes beyond vacations and wish lists - it's what I want to do with my life.

I almost didn't go to Japan. I was working at Ms. magazine in Los Angeles - a dream come true for me! My career was wide open - possibilities in magazines, writing, and publishing felt endless, and I thought I'd lose momentum if I moved abroad. Going is the best decision I've ever made.

So what??? 

I never noticed it before, but these three events fall exactly at big life transitions - high school, college, and post-college. Now I'm 27, and I feel like I'm at another big life transition. I want to choose whatever will recapture more of my joy and fervor for life - because I'm capable of so, so much of it. I'm happy, but I know the best version of myself, and I'm not living it right now. I don't know the answer yet, but I know that getting there, however frustrating the process might be, will be worth it, you know?

I'm happiest when I'm uncomfortable
I'm happiest when I get out of my comfort zone 
I'm happiest when I make deep, lasting friendships
I'm happiest traveling
I'm happiest when forced to rely on myself and show myself that I'm capable 

What makes you happiest? What brings you the most joy?

where to eat in atlanta | brunch at rosebud

Let's get the bad news out of the way: By Atlanta law, restaurants cannot serve alcohol until noon. That's an improvement over my years serving tables in Newnan, Georgia back when Coweta County was dry on Sundays. But it's a disappointment coming from DC, where brunch isn't complete if it isn't preceded by the words "bottomless mimosas." The food at Rosebud in the hip Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta far makes up for its champagne deficit.

I'm fortunate to have two friends from high school middle school that I still call my closest. Melanie is one, of course, and the other is Randall. I wrote about our mud hike and delicious lunch at Thai Square after his last visit to DC. I have a picture of Randall and me hanging in my room from a 7th grade science nighttime "trip" outside of school to look at the stars, or an eclipse, or something in the sky. We both have braces, and we're happy, typical 13-year-olds. I smile every time I catch a glance of us back then.

The three of us are rarely in the same city at the same time, so we took advantage of us all being in Atlanta a few weekends ago to catch up over brunch. Randall, the only one of us who lives in the city, suggested Rosebud and got us reservations. Rosebud serves a twist on a traditional southern-style brunch, complete with cheese grits and bread pudding french toast, and fried chicken so good I'd have just about eaten it off the floor.

We decided on sharing the bread pudding french toast as a "starter." Spoiler alert: we never finished it. We tried our hardest, though, and we did make a substantial dent in it. The portion sizes are generous, to say the least. It was, hands down, some of the best french toast I've ever had. In fact, I'll just say it - it was the best. The texture of the bread pudding made the dish creamier than it is traditionally, and the rich, warm real maple syrup had me sticking my fork back in for "just one more bite" more times than I needed. I loved the addition of the fried egg on top, the yolk adding another level of flavor that I've craved ever since leaving the poor remains on that table.

I'd like to be able to tell you about the various other brunch dishes Rosebud serves, but we all ordered the same thing. Great minds think alike, and all that. But honestly, when there's an option for fried chicken on homemade biscuits with sausage gravy and a fried egg to top it off, who sees anything else?

We would have done well to order two of these monsters instead of three. Melanie and I barely made it through half of ours (Randall didn't have a problem finishing his). It was so good Melanie and I took our leftovers to our hotel for Ashley's wedding and snacked on them while we got ready. We couldn't stop. It's no surprise that an Atlanta restaurant has mastered fried chicken, but it doesn't mean I appreciate it any less. This chicken was decadent - juicy on the inside, crispy on the outside, and the key - flavorful. It's so easy for fried chicken to come out bland or tasting like the oil in which it was fried. Rosebud's take on it is moist without being greasy and seasoned to perfection.

The dish is served with grits or potatoes, and as true Georgians, we all went for the grits. Randall and I opted for cheese on ours. I've ordered grits at every brunch I've been to in DC that offers them, and I've been disappointed every single time. I grew up on Mom-made, homemade grits. I know the real deal. It should be bursting with flavor - peppery and savory, the cheese adding a punch of saltiness. The grits at Rosebud reminded me that they can be done right.

We finished eating at 11:50. Don't worry, we saved room for a round... or two... of mimosas for dessert.

if you go... 

rosebud

1397 n. highland ave ne atlanta

price range: $10-$15/entree

$7 mimosas or a $27 for a carafe of oj & a bottle of bubbly

menu highlights: fried chicken, "big nasty" (fried chicken sandwich)

travel tuesday: newnan, ga | where i come from

"Where I come from,it's cornbread and chicken,

where I come from, a lot of front porch sittin' - 

workin' hard to make a livin',

where I come from." - Alan Jackson

It was no secret that I wanted out of Georgia as a kid and a teenager. It didn't matter how much debt I would incur, or what school I attended as long as it was far away from Newnan. I didn't know what, exactly, was in the big world out there that wasn't in Newnan, but I knew the answer was, "more." And I wanted more for myself. Like all of these stories of escaping small childhood towns go, I love it now, and I look forward to every visit back home. 

Newnan is situated in Coweta County, 30 miles southwest of Atlanta. When my mom, brother, and I moved there, I was 6 years old, and I could count the number of people who lived in our neighborhood on my fingers and toes. I played in the woods, because that's all our eastern corner of Newnan was at the time, and I rode bikes with my friends, and I'll never forget the day my friend Jenny's family got an in-ground pool in her backyard. Driving to the grocery store took 20 minutes because we had to cross town, and the closest thing to us was a single gas station at a big intersection 5 minutes up the road to town. 

What I missed out on living on the east side of town was downtown Newnan. Dubbed "the square," it's the hubbub of old Newnan. As my side of town built up to become a commercialized, suburban stronghold in the metro-Atlanta area, downtown Newnan remained (and still remains) much the same as it was many years ago. It's cleaner and shinier now, but it holds the history of our town in its streets and barber shops and small restaurants that'll serve you fried chicken the way it's supposed to be made. 

In elementary school I went on a class field trip to learn about the antebellum architecture in Newnan. I wish I remembered more of the history, but it's fun to re-learn it now and appreciate seeing it every time I'm in town. 

Newnan bears almost no battle wounds from the Civil War because it was used as a hospital town for Confederate soldiers. Back in those days, it was a wealthy area, and a skilled, renowned architect named Kennon Perry thought it a beautiful spot to build homes. Newnan is known as the "City of Homes" today because beautiful 20th-century homes dot tucked away lanes and roads in the older parts of the city. 

On my most recent visit a few weekends ago, I went for a run downtown, taking advantage of the time to wind my way through streets I felt like I'd somehow never seen, to admire the old homes. 

 

Newnan, as you might guess, was a slave town. As a teenager, I thought the site of an antebellum home represented oppression and a time for which I'm not proud to be associated even by the flimsiest link of geography. Newnan's history is storied and complicated, but most things worth remembering are.

Alan Jackson, the now famous country singer, is from Newnan. He lived in my neighborhood growing up - right down the street from us. I know most of the words of his old songs. I remember sitting on my uncle's porch, the grill fired up, my brother playing in the woods just off the yard in the distance, and me singing off-key to the country radio station. 

Living in a big city like D.C., I've found that it's somewhat unique to be from a small town in Georgia. There is little context for high school football rivalries, and friends who all worked at the same restaurant in town. I feel proud I've seen both sides.

Let's share a glass of cold lemonade while you tell me about where you come from.

Top 5 reasons to visit Newnan, Georgia: 

1. It's where I come from, duh.
2. Antebellum homes and architecture; Civil War history
3. Sweet tea, lemonade, fried chicken, fried okra, fried green tomatoes
4. It's the set for some popular movies and TV shows, past and present. Past: Fried Green Tomatoes, A Murder in Coweta County Present: Drop Dead Diva, The Walking Dead 
5. Easy day trip from Atlanta (30-45 minutes); driving distance from Savannah (4 hours)

other posts on Newnan

sugarloaf mountain northern peaks trail

travel tuesday: senoia, ga | home of the walking dead

xs and os, thankful

sparks of romance | a georgia wedding

There are some years that seem like a blur when I look back on them. I have to sit and remember what spectacular things occurred and where they happened. That is not the case with 2003 and 2004. Those years are lightning bolts of clarity when I think of them. Every time, every single little time they cross my mind, I laugh. Out loud. Because they were so fun. And they were so incredibly fun because my girlfriend Ashley and I made them that way. We lived big and loud, and we laughed until we peed our pants on more than a few occasions, and we did things that I can only shake my head at now, like, I'm so glad we didn't think twice and jumped in that lake fully clothed.

For those years Ashley was somehow both my rock and my spontaneity - a phenomenon of contrasting wonderful things that she does effortlessly. Our friendship has grown and ebbed over the years, ballooning and floating in various, sometimes separate and sometimes intertwining directions. She got married last weekend in Georgia to a man so good and so true and so meant for her that my heart swelled nearly out of my chest.

Melanie and I spent a long weekend back in our home state, reminiscing our friendship with Ashley, and all the years and moments that have led to where we are and she is now. It meant the world to me to be there, hearing her say she takes this man to be her partner in crime because I know so well that he's in for a lifetime of laughing until he pees his pants. I'm so happy for my friend.

And now, a lot of photos from Ashley's beautiful wedding. 

 

travel tuesday: senoia, georgia | home of the walking dead

My cousin John couldn't believe that I didn't know that the popular AMC show The Walking Dead is filmed in Georgia.

"It's not even just filmed in Georgia," his southern drawl punctuating every word. "It's filmed in Senoia!"

I grew up in Newnan, Georgia, a now-sprawling suburb 30 minutes southeast of Atlanta. It's in Coweta County. I grew up on the East side of the county. My middle school and high school were far out on the east side, so far I wonder now how they even really count as the same county. But just down the road from my middle school, off of Highway 16 is the small, quaint town of Senoia, or, as fans of the TV show know it, Woodbury. It's about a 15-20 minute drive, if that, from my childhood house.

To be honest with you, I'd never done more than see Senoia at a glance. I had no real reason to go into the town. It's country out there. It's all farm land and there's a house on the two-lane highway with a "Barbie beach." The barbies are dressed for different occasions - festive for the holidays, topless for Spring Break, I kid you not. It's country out there.

The day after John told me about The Walking Dead being filmed practically in our backyard, my girlfriend Tiffany suggested we meet in the middle between her place and my mom's house for dinner. "How about Senoia?" she texted, and I jumped at the opportunity to lay my eyes on the home of the zombies.

Senoia is picture-perfect. It has a Main Street, and the shop fronts are all colors of a gentle palette. The Zan Brown bar is there (Southern Ground Social Club), there's a pizza joint, a chocolate shop that carries zombie-shaped delights, and a coffee house that serves blood orange mimosas that sports a framed picture of the cast and a page from the script where they filmed inside. Fake storefronts dot the the little town - a bookstore that is nothing but a set.

Little known to me, Senoia has been the backdrop and set for a number of TV shows and movies. One of my summer guilty pleasures, Drop Dead Diva, has had film crews there, too. Then there are the southern traditions: Fried Green Tomatoes and Driving Miss Daisy. Every time I go back to rural/suburban Georgia I find more to love about it - bits of culture and history and lore that I wish I had known as a kid. Mel and I agreed as we drove through Atlanta this weekend - Senoia is a place we could happily retire someday.

I've never seen the show, but I feel like I've been a Woodbury resident my whole life. Don't worry - I've got season one queued up on Zan's Netflix.

 if you go... 

senoia, ga in the new york times

barbie beach

senoia becomes woodbury for the walking dead

while you're in the neighborhood... 

the woods in newnan, ga were my playground 

thanksgiving in newnan

sugarloaf mountain northern peaks trail (blue)

I've been thinking about the woods behind my childhood home. Newnan, Georgia is one of the biggest metro-Atlanta suburban areas now. When my family moved there, way back in 1990, it wasn't like that. It was downright rural then. My subdivision was sprawling, the nooks and crannies filled with uncharted nature that seemed endless to a kid. They were eventually filled in with houses, and the woods became short paths to visit our neighbors. But for most of my childhood, the woods were the woods, and there was a lot of them back there. 

Directly behind my house, the woods went back and back and back for as far as I could imagine. I explored them by day, and tip-toed a step or two into them at night, before running back to my house scared. My brother and I, and my friends and I, bushwhacked through them, creating our own trails we remembered by the broken limbs and eventually well worn paths. I learned to suck on honeysuckle and spot poison ivy, and we built forts out of tree covers and played hide-and-seek and foxes and hounds in the bush.

When we first moved to Newnan, we lived with my uncle down the street for a few months, while my mom closed on what would be our home. My Uncle Mike lived only 7 houses down from where we would live for the next 15 years, but the woods behind his house were a whole other world. His woods were even vaster. There were rolling hills and large rocks that seemed like boulders to my little eyes. There was a stream that ran who knows how far. My brother trekked the length of it more than once. I thought he was the strongest and bravest. I was maybe six or seven years old.

I jumped from rock to rock, and in the creek played leap frog on the pebbles, trying to never let my toes get wet, else I lose the game. I balanced with my arms outstretched on fallen trees, walking on my tip-toes the entire length of them, pretending I was an Olympic gymnast like Shannon Miller. 

In 1993, Atlanta had a blizzard - the "storm of the century!" Really, they called it that. Even wikipedia remembers. I'd never seen snow, and my mom woke my brother and me up early, so so early, as the wet, white stuff came down in sheets. It covered our lawn, probably only inches at most, but I swear it went up to our waists. 

Of course, all of metro Atlanta shut down, and that meant no school. We bundled up as best we could - there's a shortage of winter coats when you live way down south, and we convinced our black lab puppy, Shadow, to come play with us. We threw the first snowballs of our lives, wrestled in it, sledded down the sloping hills of our neighborhood streets, and tried to find the trails we'd blazed in the in the snow-covered woods. 

All of these childhood memories came flooding back to me this weekend when Zander, Theo and I went hiking at Sugarloaf Mountain in Dickerson, Maryland. It was a quiet day, cold and icy. The first quarter mile of the Northern Peaks blue-blazed trail we attempted was iced over and treacherous. Fortunately the trail cleared up after that, the snow provided a beautiful back drop, and we were able to finish the 5.5 mile loop. 

After passing the White Rock Overlook, about 2.5 miles in, we descended until we passed a unique tree formation. One tree arched over like the top of a swing set, and another intersected it like a jungle gym. I had to stop (for the millionth time) to take a picture. Growing up in the woods hit me so hard, and I had this thought that if I were ever a playground contractor, visionary - this is what would inspire me. Then I thought I wouldn't have a job for very long, because I'd tell kids to come play in the woods. They're the real playgrounds. 

Don't you want to swing from that arch, and climb and jump off and hang upside down? 

At White Rock Overlook, the view itself didn't take my breath away - it was the little red farmhouse, so proud and distinct in the distance, that did it. What is it about that iconic image that takes me somewhere I've never been, every single time I see it?

 

Hiking makes me feel young again, like we can all stop time for those miles we're breathing hard and sweating in the woods, convincing ourselves we can make it to the top. The peaks I summit and the trails I meander are longer and higher and tougher than the woods behind my childhood house, but my love for them started at 365 Freestone Drive, in the subdivision without a sign. You can spot it by the three giant boulders on the right-hand side of the road. 

Want to hike Sugarloaf? I recommend the blue-blazed Northern Peaks Trail. It's a less-traversed trail on the busy mountain. You'll be stunned by the green-moss covered rocks, giant oaks that shade your way, and views that include a certain little red farmhouse. Read more about it on LocalHikes.

oh hey, PS - I ran about a mile of this trail, too, just like I did after Old Rag. This is becoming a habit. I'm thinking of trying out trail running. Do you have any suggestions on routes, running trails, shoes, etc? Want to run with me? I'd love to hear from you!