"OhDearDRAMA!" I giggle sarcastically, as we scroll through some of the weirdo comments left on her most recent blog post. I'm sitting up as straight as I can while blogging from her living room floor. I could sit and rest my back on her blue embroidered floral couch, but I like the feel of the soft, multi-color rug beneath my tush, and my computer resting on the cutest little stool. I take a sip of my carbonated, probiotic, vegan, kosher, organic, non-GMO, BPA-free, glass bottled, berry flavored beverage and smile like an idiot as I type, because I realize it's 10:35pm and I'm working. I'm at work. This is my job. And this is her job. We're at work. And I'm experiencing what Instagram calls #JobLove. (That, or I have gas from all the Kombucha. It's probably that.)
I spent this past week in West Palm Beach, Florida, visiting some girl I met on the internet. The girl's name is Drea, of OhDearDrea, (hence the "OhDearDRAMA" pun). Drea is a lifestyle blogger who likes to eat plants, support small business and write about life with her Husband, Alex, and Daughter, Marlowe. Last year, she thought it a good idea to invite strangers who read her blog to spend 2 weeks on the other side of the world (in India) with her. So that's what ten girls, including my best friend, Hailey and myself, did. Luckily, it all worked out, and by that I mean no one was kidnapped and/or sold into white slavery...which is good.
In any case, we've remained friends because we have a couple of common interests; taking pretty pictures with our iPhones, eating stuff that makes us poop better, using essential oils and writing about stuff.
I always considered Florida to be the place where people go to die. I mean, I've been to Florida several times in my life, always to visit my grandparents who'd hibernated south to escape the harsh New York winter. All I ever saw were old, leathery Jewish people, wearing shirts with palm trees on them, white sneakers, ghetto gold jewelry and sunglasses that covered their entire face and interfered with their hearing aids. Also, I'm a HUGE Golden Girls fan. But turns out, there ARE young people here, too. And I got to hang out with a really cute one...
It's no secret that flying across the country to visit someone you've met only once and haven't seen in a year is a little dicey and nerve-wracking. And honestly? Like, brutal honesty? I definitely wanted to visit Drea eventually, but this particular trip was fueled a bit by jealousy, when my friend Hailey told me she and her husband, Dan, were going to visit Drea in December. I dunno. That little voice in my head that tells me I'm replaceable and that I won't be able to keep my friends for long was shouting at me to go visit Drea also, to, I dunno, feel less left out? Or make sure that Drea likes me, too? I've had many open dialogues with Hailey about this, which is kind of an indicator she's not going anywhere and that our friendship may actually be a good one; one she's not looking to replace. All I'm saying is, communication and being vulnerable and having really uncomfortable conversations in friendships is really important. But what do I know?
I had a FABULOUS time in Florida with Drea! Wanna see?
The first thing I did upon arriving on her front lawn, was tie-dye my pants and take a picture of myself staring down at crates of dying clothes!
Then I went inside the house...
One of the 7,534 cool things about Drea, her husband and me, is that she wrote a cookbook, he's a chef, and I ate their food.
On Tuesday, we made our way down to Miami to the Wynwood Art District, to see a very specific wall...
Thank you, Drea & Alex & Marlowe, for inviting me into your colorful life. You bring out the embroidered flower child in me. You've re-inspired me to keep eating my leafy greens and Hail Mary pies from Whole Foods. Thank you for being incredible hosts and an inspiring family.
And if there's anything you wish I would have done better as a guest...hold that thought. Forever.