The Glenstone

Deep in the backwoods of Travilah, Maryland lies the Glenstone museum. A place that “seamlessly integrates art, architecture, and landscape into a serene and contemplative environment.” It also requires an advanced ticket. Which is free. But sells out months in advance. And is barely mentioned on their website. And thus, was not in our position when we arrived. After three hours of driving. Nevertheless, we persisted. And puckerage subsided once a small quantity of “day of” tickets found their way into our hands.

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Elliott Rose Unterberger

Man. How do you describe the birth of your child? Expletives and emotions come to mind. And tears. Lots and lots of tears. In the four months since Elliott joined our family, I find it hard to travel back. Not because I can’t. Or don’t remember. But because so much has changed, there is so much to look forward to, and I am so thankful to have her in our life.

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Racin’ in Richmond

When NASCAR’s finest descend on the finest (and only?) short track in the great state of Virginia, the YETI comes out and so do the Unterbergers. This being our first racing experience, however, neither of us knew what to expect. It was raw. It was ratchet. And it was absolutely RAD. After two hours of ear blasting badassery, I walked away unable to wipe the goofy grin off my face. Also, I walked away with a 99.7% screen printed Richmond Raceway Tee. So that was rad too.

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Outer Banks

We have a rule living in Richmond. Anything within 8hrs driving is fair game. So when we discovered the Outer Banks were a mere 4hrs away, we made a day trip of it. Only later would we realize that the drive on Saturdays is rarely 4hrs, and that rain storms on sand dunes make for interesting experiences.

More Outer Banks after the break.

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A White Christmas

This Christmas past we ventured upstate to spend a few days in the Hillsdale house. It was my first time seeing Sarah and Dan’s epic home, and the first time I’d ever experienced a White Christmas. So naturally, I took an absurd amount of photos of Oliver in the snow. And not in the snow. And looking at farm animals.

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Grand Canyon

A year ago to the day, Lauren and I packed our bags, rocked our Tivas, and descended into the Grandest of Canyons for a three day float down the Colorado river. Was it hot? Try 100 degrees. Was the water cold? Try 50 degrees. Was it everything I’d ever hoped for and more? Try reading the rest of this blog post.

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Paso Robles

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Diving into the archives for back-to-back birthday posts, this one a few years shy of the ole one-six. If memory serves we spent the long weekend holed up in a killer farm house, eating epic meals, driving back roads, and searching for photo ops. Sounds like any Elliott trip worth taking.

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Oh Hai!

For Leslie’s 60th birthday the gang surprised her with a long weekend at the Turtle Conservancy in Ojai. Before you ask, it was amazing. Both the celebration and the turtles. We really could have spent a week on the compound, but managed to make ourselves at home in just three short days. In fact, I now consider myself a de facto tour guide after cruising through each and every greenhouse and turtle terrarium on the property. I like turtles.

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Adventure Crew

Heartland Quality, Baja Barbecue. That is not the slogan for Omaha Steaks (at least not the second part). But it should be. After this Mexican vacation, I can scarcely imagine another adventure without a $600 mail-order meat medley. If you read the preceding sentences and felt lost, don’t panic. You were not part of the Adventure Crew. And if you were not part of the Adventure Crew, you don’t drive matching champagne Volvos. And if you don’t drive matching champagne Volvos, you don’t caravan deep into foreign territory. And if you don’t caravan deep into foreign territory, you miss out on celebrating Chloe’s epic Baja birthday. And if you miss out on celebrating Chloe’s epic Baja birthday, here’s a few photos to keep you in the loop.

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Mammois

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They say in the mountains the fish run free. Down by a creek engulfed in rock, trout glisten with hunger in early morning light. Two days and zero fish later, we call bullshit. But who can complain when a Dunn invites us to partake in family tradition?

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