Figuring out what to do about the holidays has become a recurring project over the last few years.
Last Thanksgiving I took a secret trip to London and Paris.
You can imagine my absolute glee when I found out that someone had actually built a replica of 1313 Mockingbird Lane in Waxahachie, Texas.
Last year, when the chance to take a big trip presented itself, I decided to do something “different.”
When I signed up for a work/travel program, I was promised an experience — but I got a nightmare.
As long as I can remember I’ve been pretty obsessed with the ocean.
We paddled ten miles that first day, stopping only for lunch on the rocky shore of a small island.
It started with an unusual noise, which you never want to hear at 65 miles per hour, and ended with a blown-out tire and my entire vacation sitting beside the road.
I was happy to pay extra for a sleeping car rather than try to figure out how to get kids to sleep in the coach section of the train.
I immediately bought tickets to go to Hawaii with a flexible return date.
En route to the airport on an icy black January morning, our daughter threw up in her car seat. Uh oh. Then she puked a second time. Oh no.
This is not a story about stumbling upon amazing airfare deals or subsisting on a budget of $10 per day.
The answer to all my problems came to me during a 3 a.m. feeding: we would become travel hackers.
What do we pay for the freedom to not nickel-and-dime ourselves?
It’s time to tally up how much I spent over the past (long) weekend, hanging out with friends at the Travelers’ Rest music festival in Missoula.
Most people who know me know that I have a travel problem; in the past year I’ve visited eight different states and three countries.
How much did I end up spending on my thirteen-day book-and-teaching tour (plus vacation)?
Since we’re transitioning from our Food Series to our Clothing Series, I thought I’d share how I’ve been handling both food and clothes on my current Book & Teaching Tour (Plus Vacation!).
For years, I dreamed of staying at the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas on my birthday.
Backpackers in Australia are considered “”residents for tax purposes,” right?