In less than four days I’ll be heading out on a much-needed sister adventure to Massachusetts! I’m most excited about seeing the historic town of Marblehead, right on the Atlantic. We plan on doing a day of sightseeing in Boston, but my sister and I are over any city sights having been in San Francisco for so long, and are in the mood for a more magical little escape– yes, especially to Salem!
IT’S HERE! The Fall/Winter issue of Marjorie Magazine is available now for your vintage/nostalgic reading pleasure. Our second issue is 48 pages of beautiful photos, featured interviews with Monalogue and Caffe Bianco, a travel guide for Bruges, Belgium, more cocktail recipes by Jennifer Richmond, and a breath-taking cover feature by Jacki Geary Art. It’s ready to be yours now for just $10 at Marjorie Mercantile!
My birthday was just this past Saturday, and boy, was it a happy little celebration, truly. The Bob Ross-themed party in the evening entailed dancing to remixed autotuned videos of Ross and a big canvas on which every party guest added their own fun work of art! Painting soon to be posted; I’m so grateful for the fun friends and incredible family that always make my birthdays so memorable.
Saltwater taffy, I realized, is my favorite candy. Around Halloween the cravings especially bump up. Peppermint and blueberry are definite faves.
This year’s costume was a silly but special one! One of my boyfriend’s favorite movies is The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and so we decided on being Steve Zissou and the Jaguar Shark. I chose last year’s costumes of being Rick and Negan from The Walking Dead– so this year, not too shabby for his picking. As my boyfriend’s costume was fairly easy to buy and assemble, mine involved a bit more creative approach to making it work, as nowhere sells onesies or costumes for the mythical sea creature. So, I took a leopard dress (an XXL tank from Target), and cut out/hand-painted a shark fin wth leopard splotches, which, I found, are so easy to draw!
Tea. TEA. I’m starting to crave tea more than coffee– and for my birthday, come Ceylon. I got to enjoy a wonderful birthday tea brunch with my best friend at SIP Tea Room in the Inner Sunset, right across from Golden Gate Park. It’s new, sleek, and encompasses all the feels of an elegant, modern tea room with comforts like mismatched antique china and delicate tiers of petit-fours and traditional sandwiches. Some jokes made: Oooh look at that! High(phy) tea, curds and clots, and getting the tea a Bible because it was so loose.
After finishing the second season of Stranger Things I was a bit indifferent about the direction it went (meh with the new characters like Billy and definitely Max, Bob was Ok as sweet and funny as he was and much-needed to give Joyce some happiness [too much spoilers?]), but looking back now, it was just as good as the first. The different storylines as some characters joined unexpectedly together and others reunited were well done and built up to a beautiful ending– I’m really am glad they ended with the Snow Ball (and that it was not Mike and Eleven’s first meeting since the season 1 finale as the Duffer Brothers originally intended).
Lastly, the wonderful thing about my birthdays now is that I have my boyfriend by my side to celebrate with. He’s given me so much inspiration and happiness and laugher in this past year that really showed me the kind of love everyone should have. I truly love this pearl and southern magnolia necklace he generously gave to me this year for my 26, a true unique handmade gem from Morning Heirloom!
Perry Ellis boots, these are my absolute favorite for fall weather. I stumbled upon them at the Vintage Thrift West store in Greenwich when I was in New York last December. I tried them on, left the store, and not two blocks away I asked my friend if we could turn back. No regrets! And were only $24. You must check out the pretty embroidering on the toes, too.
Julia Engel of Gal Meets Glam just came out with a gorgeous rug in a collaboration with Lulu & Georgia! She’s one of my favorite bloggers, being a fellow California gal with a love for the south and florals, plus her and her husband (and her photographer) Tom are just adorable. The Garden Party Rug is the first thing I want to add to my apartment when I get around to redecorating next year.
I came across Pascal Campion’s artwork this past month simply scrolling through Facebook. The first thing I fell in love with was his style; the composition of light and contrasting simpler, neutral warm colors make his work feel so welcoming. And then the subjects, mostly of him and his wife and their three children. They live a happy life, family pillow fights, days at the beach– but the intimate paintings of Pascal and his wife alone, when they’re having coffee together in the kitchen or talking to themselves on a fire escape at a party or embracing in bed in the early morning resonates so much with me. Looking at those particular works, I don’t see the artist his wife– I feel like I can only see me, and my own love.
Tea is always the perfect way to start and end the day. I’ve been working from home a lot this week, and I couldn’t go get coffee– so it’s nice to get back onto tea for a bit! And best served in a pretty little mug.
My favorite spot in Golden Gate Park is the Shakespeare Garden. Despite the heavy smoke from the fires up north, I still found myself out in the sunshine and thick haze to admire its glory. It’s peaceful, rather hidden, and contains all the flora mentioned in Shakespeare’s works. Also, it’s the only place in San Francisco where I can soak in the beauty of my favorite plant, Spanish Moss, draping the dark trees overhead. It’s a lovely sight, as anywhere there is Spanish Moss, as far as I’m concerned, is Heaven.
While walking about Golden Gate Park, my friend (who is back from living in Portland!) and I stumbled upon John Steven Morgan sitting at an upright piano and playing this own breathtaking compositions aloud for all to hear and fall in love with. I sure did. I particularly am drawn to his song, “Robots.”
I finally did it. After years of wondering and hearing the buzz surrounding last year’s revival and constantly being told it’s a show I would love, I am finally getting into the Gilmore Girls! OMG! It truly is the show for me. Some of the scenes and plot lines can get a bit fantastical, but the heart and soul of the story is perfect. The characters, their dynamics with each other, the magical setting of Stars Hollow, all belissimo! This is the kind of story I aspire to writing down the road.
When in doubt, Fairy Lights. It’s actually the best way to get your home or work desk to feel festive (I’ve strung it around the desktop screen) for all seasons– summer, fall, and of course, Christmas. Little effort, everlasting impact.
Since I last left you, I was feeling happy. Now I am completely elated, transformed by recent travels and new projects that cement an exciting future ahead for me as a writer, entrepreneur, and overall happy human being.
You must take small steps in making your life happy– as noted in my last essay, trying to change the world one Facebook status at a time will only consume and distort your ideas of happiness and having a positive outlook for the future. If you can make small changes, change all the same is better when it’s towards your own well being, and everything else will fall into place. By focusing on yourself first, you find that, surprisingly, anything is possible.
At peace in my favorite city, Savannah
Heaven must be drenched in Spanish Moss!
Stepping away from A Week by the Bay, I also got to step away from the Bay Area itself for a wonderful week in Georgia! I love the South, and I truly believe I’m a Southern Belle at heart. Thrilled by the sunshine, the Spanish Moss hanging from ancient oaks, the proud and beautiful architecture of welcoming cities like Savannah and Roswell, and most of all the humility of its people, it makes a big difference in seeing places outside of your norm, outside of the bustling fast-paced mecca of San Francisco that while I still love and call my home, can be overwhelming for even myself.
See my latest travel guide for Savannah, Georgia here, the hostess city of the South!
Getting away has also inspired me to act upon my next big venture– publishing a magazine! Marjorie Magazine is my new little platform for all things nostalgic! They always tell you as a writer to “write the book you want to read.” So what about a magazine? The beauty of a magazine is to collect all the little things about a certain subject we love into one digest. Southern Living, Sunset, Entertainment Weekly, Men’s Health, Vogue, The New Yorker— successful publications catered to different demographics. Unfortunately, there are barely any publications for readers whose interests lean towards nostalgia. Facebook groups like Vintage Styling for Modern Girls and Instagrammers like Annelies van Overbeek and Lady Damfino show how powerful history can be, how the beauties of the past are kept alive as generations get younger and as time goes by.
I’ve always been a fan of nostalgia and vintage fashion as my personal inspiration. Things of the past remind me of stories I read as a child like Anne of Green Gables and movies like Gone with the Wind. I was watching period dramas by 6th grade and finding that I had a huge crush on Jimmy Stewart. And that’s where Marjorie comes in, to take a few steps back to appreciate the obsolete as breathtaking, and to connect with others fascinated with nostalgia. Telling stories of the past get us excited for the future– for what’s in store. Past and Future are the perfect foils in which the past is there to remind us always that great things await on the horizon. We may feel that we’re born in the wrong decade, naturally, but coming together through one publication, readers might just feel like time’s never moved at all.
Follow the magazine on Instagram @MarjorieMagazine and be sure to help us keep up our publication with our IndieGogo Fundraiser! Every penny helps in site maintenance, paying writers, and– best of all– publishing our FIRST PRINT issue this summer!
Where you’ll next see me? I can’t be sure, or specific, but one thing is certain: I‘ll be off to Europe, where more adventures and new writing undoubtedly await me.
It was well quoted in high school, and occasionally reemerges as a meme for this month as October 3rd does for October 3rd in light of further 2000s nostalgia. I’m talking about the line, wake me up when September ends. A simple, vague declaration universal to the feeling of trying to forget, moving on. It’s a lyric of a song from the band to whom I most certainly do owe most of my creative individuality towards, Green Day.
However, I am reveling in this September. For starters, new faces in my life as my favorite season approaches, the season that symbolizes new changes on the horizon, and seemingly all good, and not just for myself. Those around me are finding themselves driving their dream cars, emerging victorious from the perils of the BAR exam, and within three months time, travels to New York will begin again. But for the moment, the new change I enjoy is that of great company and chasing the dream that is finally seeing Green Day in concert. And a concert wouldn’t be coming without the release of their latest album, Revolution Radio. Oh god. A new one. They’re still here. The lifelong dream lives on– in the wake of a season where change is interchangeable with fading.
YES YES YES. Out October 7th.
I was fourteen when I started listening to the music I swear by now, and Green Day was the band that did it. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” was a soft yet emotionally-rigged tune that I was told by my sister would be a song I’d enjoy, and lovable songs in the mid-2ooos for me were definitely hard to come across. I was totally immersed in my (undying) love for strictly classical and old jazz, and anything outside those realms were just trash. And coming from my sister who was infatuated with all Ashanti/ Ja Rule and Nelly hits on the radio, suggesting an alternative rock ballad was quite out of left field for the both of us. I was hesitant– and one day, there it played on the radio. It wasn’t that bad, it wasn’t overkill for me. It was a slow but endearing song with a soft piano in the works and a haunting chorus. What my parents considered a downward spiral for me musically was just the beginning of becoming a new Paris, unique and self-fulfilling.
My preppy-turned-awkward punk/hippie years in high school are not the most aesthetically-pleasing to look at in old photos. As terrible as I looked you can equally see how happy I was, blissfully ignorant of my teenage phase yet doe-eyed and hopeful. I traded low-heeled Mary Janes for black Chuck Taylors and started my high school’s first environmentally- focused club. In skinny jeans I trusted alongside my studded belt to walk into my counselor’s office to discuss applying for college…it was only the beginning of sophomore year. By 2009 I was set for USF and a new chapter in my city, and I’d built up an adequate playlist on which to live this life to. And then that summer, before heading off, my favorite band gave me “Viva La Gloria!” Another fierce anthem that really resonated with me and my passions for the future. Trying to revolutionize and change the world with what I thought I knew at the time and through purely terrible writings. This was an aspiring writer who thought it was all figured out, ready to burn the world with her work and a kickass song singing praises to a punk heroine created by her first artistic and relatively hometown heroes.
As Fall approaches the City.
And this would all fade– life would laugh at these ideals of mine as I actually got out beyond the suburbs. But later on, as I sat at my desk in an office high rise overlooking downtown San Francisco, contentedly listening to all Green Day again, I crossed paths with Gloria. That raging, loving, passionate-to-burn-all fury that motivated me for my future was coming back in just a few minutes of a song. And I couldn’t have listened to “Viva La Gloria!” at a more inspiring week. I’ve only gone on about my music and punk heroes of high school past because I tend to get caught up nostalgia– and it only added to a memorable start to the fall. Looking back at last year, there was so much uncertainly and almost fear about the coming season. Fall marks change, but in contrast to before, today, now, and in my future I only wish I could put change on hold– to make these memories last. Gone are the first excitements of your parents finally meeting the person you sincerely adore, the person who keeps surprising you in new and wonderful ways that make you seem not alone any more, as alone as I had been in these past few months. Gone is when you and that person roamed Polk Street for what seemed like forever for a bathroom until sprinting into Grubstake Diner and leaving with the best grilled shrimp you ever tasted. Gone is that moment you woke up next to their face whose look you’ll never forget– someone so happy you’re by their side. So happy that they try to make these dreams of yours come true, determined and headstrong to find a pair of tickets to see Green Day with you– even if tickets are already sold out for all upcoming shows.
And also gone now, borne ceaselessly back into the past as Fitzgerald would have liked it, was a dream of a Sunday, a well lived fantasy that only came true for a single afternoon. Here we were, you and I , you in your gray driving hat and I in my wine-stained white dress and sunhat draped in pearls and lounging on a blanket beneath the sun and vintage cars as someone out by the distant dance floor sang “The Very Thought of You” almost sounding like Lady Day. Nothing quite felt like The Gatsby Summer Afternoonbefore in my life, and never did I think I would have that feeling in the first place. It was a fanciful and expensive little event I always had eyes for but couldn’t afford or couldn’t convince anyone to go to. This was another Cinderella moment in which magic brought me back in time, to 1922 when I could we enjoy all things from a simpler time and in each other’s company– because without you, in your gray hat and red tie, this magical moment would not have been made possible. Never stop surprising me, never stop being wonderful, and for now, never stop being this perfect in the moment.
Owe my beauty look of the day to Bésame Cosmetics.
That is my September thus far. And I’m not ready to wake up. Gloria is back and ready to tackle the bright future before her, the chance to chase another lifelong dream again, but she deserves some rest before the big battle.
The one thing there is to really love for me, regarding the Big City, is the notion of change and progress and fast-paced everything. I love this, but mostly for the fact that in acknowledging the place of progress you remember the past. You can really slow it all down and appreciate this true beauty that coincides with the future. Yes, in the wake of this change there is always a sense of sentimentalism for me with how all once was and can never be again. Nostalgia, as much as you try to erase it from a landscape as New York or San Francisco– it runs deep, something no bulldozer or wrecking ball can erase.
An abandoned bar in the Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco
I grew up on these tales of dog days past. Period dramas and stories like Anne of Green Gables or playing with American Girl dolls whose stories were set against the perils of World Wars had me curious about the past from the start. When infomercials were still a big thing, my dad was convinced to by a compilation set of 1950s/1960s Rock and Roll hits. Oh boy, those CDs were nonstop on repeat. And the album covers depicted various scenes of teenage life in the 50s: burgers at a drive-in parking lot, Dean-esque greasers on a rod, girls in capris and bows in their hair stringing up crepe paper for the school dance as a band practiced in the background of the gymnasium. Simple, carefree. The ideal Eisenhower-esque of these covers were nowhere near the bitter realities of the decade but I was sold all the same. Things in the past were fascinating, if not magical. Everything seemed better– they were smiling.
Again, the past found me. My style took a more decidedly retro turn at the discovery of a new beauty staple encountered at the follow of a single Instagram account. I discovered Besame Cosmetics by chance through an Instagram follow regarding a really clever cosplayer whose resemblance to Audrey Hepburn is uncanny and needs no makeup to transform herself, in my opinion. The tag of her lipstick shade led to an unforgettable trip to the stars on the wings of true romanticism. If there were any truly perfect love affair, it was in this week that I discovered it exists between a woman and her makeup. The way she feels so fulfilled and confident with her lipstick by her side and pressed against her fragile lips, how the eyes glow when she sees the magic hath done to them by the enchantment of a little shimmery shadow or deep black kohl. There’s the look all girls want to see: the way that someone they desire has when all they want is them; then there’s the unfathomable allure of her gaze into a mirror and seeing the face of someone so beautiful and true and positively radiant and happy as they look back to them– their own reflection in a mirror, showing the girl how marvelous she really looks and feels, too. There I go romanticizing a silly routine, but really, makeup was nothing silly in the days of the flappers or Golden Age of Hollywood. It wasn’t a solution to making one’s self feel better, but an art in itself. And that’s what Besame sought to prove with their line of cosmetics replicated from actual shades of rouge and lipstick in various decades. I myself own a 1970s-colored Chocolate Kiss lipstick, and in the week that I awaited its arrival, deeper and deeper I fell back down into the past with music, looks, and even activities. Glenn Miller and Billie Holiday turned up to nearly full blast on my headphones in all hours of the work day, hair curled as often as needed and even once attempted with pin curls– the devotion went all the way and for nothing really, other than a sentimental sense of adding something new into my daily routines, even if they weren’t new in the theoretical sense. But with new routines like this somehow the day never felt more complicated. It was magically more simplified, worked out, romantic. You only echo the past, I find, as a strange but innocent way to move forward. It’s what I continue to do now as I write, hair still curled and lipstick full and bright and electro swing streaming from my phone. Retreating into the past is the closest thing to mirroring a fairy tale– something really once upon a time.
Best shade ever! Chocolate Kiss from 1970
The most exciting part of this rediscovery of decades was the dancing. I have many dreams, and a one of them has always been to attend a real dance reminiscent of the 1940s when Big Band reigned supreme. I can now say that this dream has come true, and, as mirroring a fairy tale should go, none was more truer to feeling like Cinderella as I did that night. It started out with a few drinks across the street on Divisadero, then down to the main hall of the Russian Center once the drinks kicked in to assure immunity against bad dancing (or being conscious of it). Come 9 O’Clock fellow friends from work were divided into two groups as we learned the basic steps to Lindy Hopping and the roles between lead and follower. In the course of learning we followers rotated with various leads, new dancers, 4-year novices from Sacramento, Brazilian transplants, 60-year olds. And even as the actual dancing commenced the awkwardness I had been trying to shed in a drink and too much laughter made way for the brass band and encouragement of nearly 10 different dance partners in the rest of the evening. Songs I’d listen to alone in a bedroom at age 10 were something that really got the blood stirring of 100+ San Franciscans dancing into the night for something of the past. Who needs a prince when those beautiful things are still around?
At the 9:20 Special Open House
I wasn’t any good, and it felt amazing. I was still elated, breathless. Lost in a fantasy that wasn’t a fantasy really, because it had been real once in time, another decade, another couple, another young woman. But the same spirit carried on because well, spirits never die. They just pass on through the years, through dance, through music, through that same joy it all brings. Through the enthusiasm from the new that know the value in the old. Even better than a fantasy– midnight struck, and I retreated only into the future once again but with the memories and feeling that the next morning it was all real. I came back feeling better, not defeated. Both shoes stayed right on my feet and the flowy dress, though shrunken from washing, still in tact.
Grace Coddington captured the value of sentimentalism when she said,
“I think I got left behind somewhere, because I’m still a romantic.”
Romantics get left behind but they refuse to catch up. Time is slower, we slow things down to make enough room for what could be in the gap between where we are and the present. It couldn’t have been a more perfect moment to get left behind, having been left by someone just the week before. I’d been sad, surprised, nearly heartbroken about this latest affair that seemed all wonderful by Nora Ephron standards. But in this loss, there was no loss of hope for romance. The past helps me heal for the future, and feel alive in the present that could be a living hell were I felt completely shattered. But time heals all– and these timeless things I’ve embraced have me ready for the strange future ahead that yes, uncertain as always, still has hope.
A single lipstick can make a girl feel herself again. In the discovery of a new shade fresh from the past, I see that no matter what happens to me I’m never completely gone. Nostalgia is more than a feeling. It’s a reminder that souls never go anywhere really, just that the time does.
Starting off this week I am very please to announce a new set of typewritten works for sale on my Etsy store!
The works included you have probably seen in their earliest drafts featured here on my blog, such as “Open Your Eyes.” These pieces are each typewritten and some are complete with exquisite little watercolor illustrations, making them an all around beautiful and inspiring print you can simply frame and display.
It’s something I’ve been meaning to do, but this weekend spent at the San Francisco Etsy Indie Emporium really pushed me forward on this. It was as easy to find inspiration there just as it was hard to resist buying ALL JEWELRY and paper goods. Shout out to Waffles and Honey designed in SF’s Mission District (not pictured) and local paper artisans Paperlaced (below).
Once back in the apartment, I doled out my typewriter Rex (did I tell you his name yet? Short for Rexroth) to recreate and edit some of my works. I’ve chosen only the most popular from Instagram and those that seemed more universal and less personal– that doesn’t mean the full-fledged and disclosed pieces of mine won’t be going out into the world soon!
Check them out on Paris K Studio now, and as for me, I’ll be forever writing and contributing what words and drawings I can. No better way to kick off this summer!
The original text of this particular card was meant to be written on the back of a postcard I bought in Huntington Beach. It’s a lovely little vintage piece with deep blue and all the sunniness that nostalgic California should sing about!
With my writing, California is definitely a big part of my identity. All the ideals of this “21st Century Land,” as I like to think of the West Coast, really sings to me; there is just such a widespread misconception that California is a Neverland, an Eden or the crack in the glass ceiling. Heading out West means starting new and making your dreams come true. It’s a calming effect to being out here as well, as San Franciscan transplants I’ve heard talk of their relocation as refreshing. But is this place really as refreshing as outsiders make it to be?
Of course not. I live here– born and raised and more than aware of the downsides to being in this state. First off, it’s expensive being out here. And there is a sense of snobbish entitlement borne from the awes and resentment that living in California creates for people outside of here. But California is for the most part no separate place from the global and political issues that claim the rest of the nation– and living in the center of a changing urban scene as San Francisco’s makes all too familiar with issues like the homeless and marginalized ethnic groups with deep roots to the city. But I’m an idealist. Just because reality kicks in doesn’t mean change can happen, that luck may find its way around.
And that’s where “Golden State of Mind” comes from. The disillusionment of the American Dream as set in place by the idealistic offerings of California is always fixated on my mind and makes for a stark contrast of inspiration from such a postcard. But taking down the California image is not my agenda with writing. In fact, it’s my motivation to seek change or discover the hope in whatever struggles I face while living out here. People do get that about California. That being that there is wonder, there is beauty, and there is the dream– dreams live on if you keep thinking about them, simple as that.
This card always recalls a brief conversation I had with a friend who lived in California for two years after graduating from the University of Oregon and has since moved back to Portland. They left Oregon in the first place because it was necessary to get outside their norm to truly see who they are. In coming to California, they discovered that being back in Oregon made sense as the way of living in California was unbecoming. People weren’t nice. And maybe I don’t know better because I’ve pretty much been here my whole life. But in the traveling I did this past year, I could really see what they meant. People have no expectations elsewhere in America. They’re humble and genuinely warm and always in awe when I said I came from California. It’s a bit disappointing to see that the hospitality that does arise from here is out of a sense of distorted duty to the tired illusion, to keep on proving to outsiders that inside here the grass is really greener. In stepping out from the state I saw how insane it is to be living here. The perfect, cool life is in fact a hot mess.
But in my case, it is home.
Complete with the hand drawn and watercolored orange fruit and blossoms, I hope these words open the door to some sort of actualization about this place. California isn’t any of those things the books and movies make it out to be– and then again it is. You can’t just arrive here and expect the troubles to go away. Like any person working for a goal, making dreams come true, such fancies aren’t without putting in your own share of hardships and muscle. Let the fruit of your labors bloom golden and full because in coming to the Golden State, you’ve earned it. You’ve earned yourself this imperfect paradise.
See the printed card now at my shop here, and have yourself a little bit of California!
Part of my joy in writing has been my new venture into my other passion: crafts and illustrating. The relaunch of my Etsy storehas brought me so much thrill and excitement even if I never make a profit off the work. Creating for myself and sharing those weird or pretty little numbers I put out there is the only self-validation to prove you did– and you still are– trying to make each moment count towards an active, artistic life.
So here I’ll start giving you some fun insight behind the work that goes into creating the featured items at Paris K Studio. This week I’m very happy to show you my latest greeting card, the Floppy Hat Magnolia. It’s for Birthday occasions and influenced by my little piece I wrote regarding my favorite accessory, a wine red floppy hat I have to hold myself back from over wearing too much!
I’ve always been fascinated by hats and the implications behind wearing one for the sake of fashion. Catching your attention first, shielding off the sun second. I can’t pull off hats but somehow the charm of a floppy one makes me feel very confident, weirdly confident and happy. It’s definitely like the glass slippers to pull together the Cinderella look. I was going to draw pretty hat boxes and the original hat onto this design but somehow it didn’t hit me. There would be no symmetrical way to depict them onto the card and I like symmetry at least to round it all off.
That’s how I came up with my usual floral depictions, and in this case I happily decided upon magnolias. Big hats remind me of the South– something I feel that any modern Southern Belle would have in her closet as a staple piece as a nod to the elegant past. So the flower of the south would be accent with my own idea of “bluebells,” literally blue dots! As I created my first card I found myself once again listening to “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show. It was the same song I played in the car when I was driving up the I-95 from Florida to Savannah with my mom last October. First time ever in the South, and honestly I never thought I’d ever go to the Southern states. But I’m glad I did. Glad life just surprises you with adventures you never knew you needed.
And I hope you can now enjoy this dainty little card you can have as a keepsake or to give to a very loving birthday recipient that fits every bit of bloom as its flowers!
A Week by the Bay 