Chincoteague Pony Swim

One of the first things I heard about when moving to Virginia was the legendary Chincoteague Pony Swim. Problem is, that’s about all I heard. Few knew anything about the event, and even fewer knew someone who had attended in person. In my head it all went down on some island, far from civilization, where cowboys led wild ponies into the ocean towards greener pastures. Turns out, I wasn’t all that wrong. But just like the folks who told me “you should go!”, my daydreams were simply lacking in details.

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The Day After

What did we do? That was the name given to the Sunday BBQ after Lauren and I made it official. While the question was rhetorical, it didn’t really matter as the younger generation wasn’t ready to answer morning after, about the night before. Luckily, there’s no better remedy than pulled pork and shenanigans.

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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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Stingray Shuffle

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I used to pray for waves. Then I bought a Nikonos. Don’t get me wrong, a long day of surf beats almost anything out there. It’s just green flags don’t spell doom anymore. Lake Laguna means I get to break out my diving buddy, and there’s something so appealing about this camera. You want to hold it, shoot it, generally drool over it (which you can, cause it’s waterproof). Remember those dinky disposable cameras they sell in Hawaiian gift shops? Remember daydreaming about shots that may or may not come out? This thing is that damn exciting, except you end up taking decent pictures.

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A River Runs Through It

A river Runs Not one. Not two. Not three. Actually it is two. But who’s counting? Me that’s who. I’m no good at simple math, but that comes out to one ‘ship for each year I’ve called this city home. After a glorious 9-1 season capped by a loss-avenging finals victory, the crew decided a celebration was in order. Some champions get a parade, this bunch settled for ice cream.

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Can We Talk?

Can We Talk?Though it was a wedding that brought our clan to Oregon, I think we’d all agree that it was the time spent at Hartung Farms that defined the trip. It’s an amazing spot and welcome retreat from the concrete sprawl, full of wonderful things and even more wonderful people. Thankfully, our hosts put up with our pool intrusions, even throwing some burgs on the grill without a second thought. After all the splashing about it was hard to say goodbye, but we left the compound en route for Salem, not knowing that we had just experienced the calm before the (literal) storm…

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Hand Picked and Hand Crafted

Hand Picked and Hand CraftedI’ve been called “The most domesticated 23 year old on the planet,” and I’m convinced that a recent berry picking outing contributed heavily to that notion. Nonetheless, it was a good excuse to jet out of the city for a day, and I knew a few baked goods would be in it for me if I tagged along.

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