merci

treasures from christian's apartment

when i left paris the first time, two years ago, i left with the belief that i had friends, as in i knew that there were people i would be leaving behind who i had laughed with, and made memories with and would never forget. but there a certain disconnect that hovers in the shadows of such friendships, leaving you wondering if these people you have deemed friends, see you in the same light, on the same pedestal as you have placed them.

were we really friends, or were we just people who spent time around each other. i couldn't be sure...until i saw them again.

without telling many people of my arrival plans, i booked a flight, and flew many many miles all by myself to test the friendship waters! it was nerve racking until i walked into the bar and realized that nothing had changed except for that sneaky question of friendship.there was no question, these people were clearly my friends. even after two years, we were all still on the same page.

and nothing soldifies the idea of friendship and makes you feel like you belong more than an impromptu dinner party with people you adore and have missed!

and to make the whole affair even better! i was instantly in love with christian's whimsically chic parisian apartment! i could have moved in and never looked back!

paris here i come!

bon voyage demain!

i go to paris tomorrow!!! i'm so excited i could cry! I can't wait, but i also can't believe it's already time for me to go!

i wonder when i will feel like i am really back. i don't feel like it will hit at charles de gaul, or even on the metro. i want to get off at hotel de ville... to walk out of the metro station and see the hotel, and be back in the marais. i'm dying to be back there. the marais, the lizard, the tuilleries, the bon marche and colette.

it already feels like a dream, and the greatest solo adventure!

recycling and rain checks...cupid's escapades

even though my valentines day didn't include a bruce springsteen tunnel of love shout out, i really can't complain. it was an epic weekend filled with stories i will tell for years and year.
you would do the same thing if you had a weekend that included:

*spending the night in a hotel ten minutes from your house

*a 2am speaker phone boys II men serenade

*productive recycling

*a very photo-phobic jockey

*a face-licking flannel brigade of snow-bros

*"oh my god is that your bum?"

*day drinking with a mormon to celebrate divorce

*the greatest girlfriend valentines dates!

an undecided decision

An interesting battle arises when you have the opportunity to do anything you would like and yet no reason to choose one thing over another. I can go anywhere, and do almost anything I want, but all I really seem to want is something to tether myself to.


I feel like a gypsy. I know I am not, and that there are people wish I would stay where I am, but as much as I live and die for my friends, I don’t think I could actually survive in Salt Lake. I could, I guess, if I could move out from under my father’s roof, and if Steve Ward could import matches for me until something really worked. But the reality of it is that if I did stay I have this great fear that I would wake up thirty five without anything to show for the last ten years that flew by without notice.

So with staying out of the question, the great debate turns to where to go from here.

I have a love hate relationship with planning, I want a plan, but I also secretly wish that something magically delicious will walk into my life and change every plan I have thought of making. But alas there is no way to plan for the unknown, and I have a developing theory that no one in my generation is in it just for the experience.

An intense desire to plan ahead has left no room for the unplanned greatness of living for experiences. I want adventures, and sneak attack romances, but it feels like everyone else wants rigorous itineraries and to date only in the steps of eventual marriage. But who really knows where anything will end up? Why would you hang all of your happiness on the uncertain promise of forever when you could have the great ecstasy of every evolving present moment?

In an effort to combat this planning plague, I have vowed to expel “what if” from my vocabulary, and only plan the next great adventure, always leaving space for the excitement of pending adventures.





So what’s next? Well… next I will get through Valentines Day with the help of amazing girlfriends, and then it’s off to Paris for me. And honestly who can complain about anything when they are off to Paris?

reason # 68 why i'll choose nashville

imogene and willie

i sincerely have the greatest friends, who make living in this morman mecca a great fucking time, and a hard party to leave!!!!