On June 16, my summer vacation officially began.

At the time, August felt forever away.

I had plans. I had places I wanted to go. I had things I wanted to do. And in my last blog post on July 10, I even made myself an end-of-summer bucket list.

Now it’s August 19, and somehow more than two months have passed.

Work starts again on August 25, the kids head back to school on August 31, and I’m sitting here wondering the same thing I wonder every year:

Where did summer go?

My Free Time Became Very Precious

This summer looked a little different than I imagined because graduate school has consumed a lot of my time.

Most days, if I wasn’t working on an assignment, reading, researching or writing something for school, I was thinking about the next thing I needed to do for school.

Going back to school as an adult sounded like a great idea.

And it is.

But WOW.

It’s a lot.

That’s also why the free time I did have this summer became precious.

I rested.

I relaxed.

I slept in.

I stayed up as late as I wanted.

Some days, I didn’t feel guilty about doing absolutely nothing.

After working all school year and then spending so much of my summer concentrating on graduate school, I think I needed that.

Remember That Summer Bucket List?

Back in July, this was my end-of-summer bucket list:

  • ❌ Spend a day at a Delaware beach.
  • ❌ Watch the Chesapeake City fireworks.
  • ✅ Explore Washington, D.C. with family.
  • ❌ Visit the Cecil County Fair.
  • ✅ Find a few more amazing gluten-free restaurants.
  • 🟡 Take a spontaneous road trip to a Maryland small town.

At first glance, I didn’t do very well checking things off my list.

But the more I started thinking about what we actually did this summer, the more I realized I was looking at it all wrong.

No, I didn’t take a spontaneous road trip to a Maryland small town.

But the kids and I DID explore a new-to-us place in Maryland, and my brother and I took a completely spontaneous nighttime road trip to Philadelphia.

I’m calling that close enough.

Because Apparently a Cheesesteak Is a Reason for a Road Trip

My brother flew in from California to visit, and one night he wanted an authentic Philly cheesesteak.

So we drove to Philadelphia.

At night.

For a cheesesteak.

Specifically, Pat’s.

I couldn’t eat there because it isn’t a good option for my gluten and chicken allergies, so basically I drove to Philadelphia and watched my brother eat a cheesesteak.

If that isn’t sibling love, I don’t know what is.

It wasn’t the spontaneous Maryland road trip I had put on my bucket list, but honestly, this was better. It wasn’t planned. We just decided to go.

Those are sometimes the best memories.

We Made It to D.C., Too

A couple of weeks ago, the boys and I spent the night in Washington, D.C. with family visiting from Nevada.

This one actually WAS on my list.

After living on the West Coast for so many years, I still think it’s pretty amazing that Washington, D.C. is close enough that we can pack up, drive there and spend the night exploring with family.

Living here has opened up an entirely different part of the country for us to explore, and I’m still getting used to having so many places within driving distance.

We Explored a Little Closer to Home, Too

The kids and I also visited Turkey Point Lighthouse in North East, Maryland.

It was nothing extravagant. We took the walk out to the lighthouse, enjoyed being outside and spent some time together.

But sometimes the simple outings end up sticking with you.

There was something about the waterfront that reminded me of Lake Tahoe.

Of course, the two places aren’t the same, but something about looking out over the water gave me that familiar feeling for a moment.

Lake Tahoe was home for a very long time, and it’s a place I still miss deeply.

Moving across the country has been an adventure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the life and places I left behind. Sometimes it’s the smallest thing – a view, the water, a walk – that brings those feelings rushing back.

Maybe that’s part of what Small Town Living in Maryland is really about for me.

I’m discovering my new home while still carrying pieces of my old home with me.

And Turkey Point was one of those places where the two unexpectedly came together.

And Then There Was the Food…

If there was ONE bucket-list item I absolutely accomplished this summer, it was finding more gluten-free restaurants.

I said I wanted to find a few.

Apparently, I took that challenge very seriously.

We tried:

  • Wolf’s Superior Sandwiches in Aston, Pennsylvania
  • Outback Steakhouse in Middletown, Delaware
  • The Grill at The Wharf in Washington, D.C.
  • Maman in Washington, D.C.
  • Tatte Bakery & Café in Washington, D.C.
  • Potstickers Asian Grill & Sushi in Newark, Delaware
  • Casa Kahlo Mexican in Newark, Delaware
  • Limestone BBQ and Bourbon in Wilmington, Delaware
  • AMALFI Pizza-Restaurant in Newark, Delaware
  • Not Your Average Joe’s in Glen Mills, Pennsylvania

Ten restaurants.

So maybe I didn’t make it to the Delaware beach, the Chesapeake City fireworks or the Cecil County Fair.

But between Turkey Point, Washington, D.C., a spontaneous cheesesteak run to Philadelphia and ten different restaurants, I’m starting to think I didn’t do so badly after all.

So maybe I didn’t make it to the beach, the fireworks or the fair, but I definitely understood the assignment when it came to food.

I’ve shared a lot of these places on social media, but that’s also made me realize how much I’ve neglected my blog.

I’m constantly making Reels, taking pictures, sharing gluten-free finds and posting about restaurants on Instagram and Facebook.

Meanwhile, my last blog post was July 10.

Oops.

And Today Hit Me a Little Differently

Today, my oldest son had his senior pictures taken.

Senior pictures.

I don’t know how that’s even possible.

It feels like I blinked and somehow went from taking him to Pre-K to watching him get ready to start 12th grade.

When your kids are little, everyone tells you how fast it goes.

You hear it over and over.

“Enjoy it. It goes by so fast.”

At the time, it doesn’t feel fast.

You’re packing lunches, helping with homework, driving everyone everywhere, dealing with school projects and trying to make it through the week.

And then suddenly you’re sitting there on senior picture day wondering how you got here.

Pre-K to 12th grade.

Just like that.

And Now Summer Is Ending

My summer vacation started June 16.

It’s August 19.

For more than two months, I’ve had the luxury of sleeping in, staying up as late as I wanted and having days where I didn’t have to be anywhere first thing in the morning.

That ends very soon.

I go back to work August 25.

The kids go back to school August 31.

And then we’re back to alarms, schedules, lunches, homework, work and everything else that comes with the school year.

Except this year I’m adding graduate school into that mix.

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to balance all of it yet.

But I’ll figure it out.

Maybe I Didn’t Need to Check Every Box

Looking back at my bucket list, I could focus on the four things I didn’t do.

But I don’t really feel disappointed about them.

I rested.

I spent time with my kids.

I spent time with family I don’t get to see very often.

I took a completely spontaneous nighttime trip to Philadelphia with my brother for a cheesesteak I couldn’t even eat.

I explored D.C.

I tried a ridiculous number of restaurants.

I slept in.

I stayed up late.

And I gave myself permission to enjoy having nowhere to be some mornings.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed this summer.

The Delaware beach will still be there.

Maryland’s small towns aren’t going anywhere.

There will be another Cecil County Fair.

And hopefully there will be another summer of Chesapeake City fireworks.

But I’m never going to get this summer back.

The summer before my oldest son’s senior year.

And when I look at it that way, I think I spent it pretty well.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more days of sleeping in before that alarm clock becomes part of my life again.

Uprooted, Adjusting, and Now Learning to Heal

I feel like my whole life’s been flipped upside down lately. I packed up everything and moved 2,700 miles away from the place I called home for the last 27 years, all because I wanted a better future for me and the kids. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t expect the small things to get to me the way they have.

Take the water, for example. Not only does it taste off, but I don’t like all the stuff in it — the chemicals, the fluoride, the PFAS. It just doesn’t sit right with me. So I started filtering the water in the kitchen and even went as far as buying distilled water jugs for the bathrooms so we could brush our teeth with something cleaner. I even bought filters for the shower heads. It might sound over the top, but honestly, it gives me peace of mind.

Even with all that, I probably drink less water than I should. And now I’m realizing how much that might have been catching up with me. Yesterday I ended up in the ER for seven hours. They ran everything — bloodwork, urine sample, CT scan — and finally told me what was going on: diverticulitis.

So here I am on a three-day broth diet, on top of 10 days of antibiotics, and after that, I’ll have to completely change the way I eat. No corn. No popcorn. A whole list of things I’ll have to avoid forever. Which feels overwhelming, because I was already so limited with food. I’m gluten intolerant, allergic to chicken, and my body just rejects a bunch of other things. Now it feels like I’ve got to become a full-on food cop with myself just to stay healthy.

It’s exhausting. I already gave up so much by moving, and now my body is asking me to give up even more. But at the same time, I don’t really have a choice. If I want to be here for my kids and actually thrive in this new chapter, I have to figure out how to work with it.

I never imagined my “fresh start” would look like this — standing in my kitchen sipping broth, keeping mental tabs on everything I can’t eat, popping antibiotics, while giant jugs of distilled water sit in the bathroom. But here I am. And honestly? All I can do is take it day by day, and try to see it as part of the journey I was meant to be on.


☕ Support the Journey

If this post resonated with you or made you feel a little less alone on your own path, you’re always welcome to support my writing with a cup of coffee. Your kindness helps me keep sharing real stories and new chapters, one step at a time: 👉 coff.ee/smalltownmichele

My Maryland Driver’s License Adventure

Today I did the thing and went to the MVA (that’s right, not DMV… I’m still reprogramming my brain) and applied for my Maryland driver’s license! As a Recovering Californian, this feels like a milestone. I’m slowly shedding my West Coast habits, well, except for saying “the freeway.” I keep calling it that, and while no one here in Maryland has corrected me (yet), I know I’m sticking out like a palm tree in a forest of oaks.

On the East Coast, it’s all “highway” or “route.” You’ll hear people say, “Take 95” or “hop on Route 40”—not a freeway in earshot, linguistically speaking. But old habits die hard. I’m trying, okay?

Now, let’s talk about the real challenge: the vision test. I’ve got a cataract in my right eye that covers my pupil, and those little letters? They looked like alphabet soup. I finally gave in and put on my driving glasses at the suggestion of the MVA clerk for my right eye. I saw a smidge better, just enough to pass. So, yes, “corrective lenses required” will now be part of my driver’s license.

But the good news? I passed. I survived the MVA. And in 7–10 business days, I’ll be holding my shiny new Maryland license, officially making me a licensed East Coaster.

One more step on my “Leaving California” healing journey complete.

Next stop: learning to remember to say “MVA” and “highway”.


Support the Journey:
From failing to call it a “highway” to barely passing the vision test thanks to my right eye doing its own thing, this Maryland chapter is already full of character. If you got a chuckle or felt a little less alone reading about my license saga, you can always fuel the ride with a cup of coffee at:
👉 coff.ee/smalltownmichele

When the Universe Hits Pause: A Car, a Delay, and a Bigger Lesson…

Our car, which my daughter drives, has been sitting in Philadelphia since late Friday afternoon. That’s three days ago. Just 51 miles away. Close enough to reach, yet still out of reach. And every day that passes, it gets a little more frustrating.

We were expecting it to arrive by now. We planned, rearranged, and made space, emotionally and literally, for it to show up. But it hasn’t. It’s just been sitting there. No movement. No updates. Just… stillness.

And if I’m being honest, it’s taken everything in me to not let the frustration bubble over.

But here’s the thing I’ve come to realize in times like these: Sometimes the universe puts things on pause for a reason.

I don’t always understand why, and I won’t pretend I do now. But I’ve seen it enough in my life to recognize the pattern. When there’s a delay, when something doesn’t happen exactly when I want it to, it usually turns out that it was never supposed to.

Maybe this wait is protecting us. Maybe it’s redirecting us. Maybe it’s just slowing us down so something else can catch up.

Maybe that car, sitting in the city, is keeping us from a moment or a road or a situation we were never meant to cross paths with. AND maybe it’s not about the car at all.

Maybe it’s about trust.

And patience.

And letting go of control, even when everything inside of me wants to scream, “Just deliver my damn car already!”

So I’m sitting with it. All of it – the irritation, the surrender, the mystery. Because I know that even when things don’t make sense, there’s often something bigger at work. Something unseen.

And when the car does arrive? We’ll appreciate it a little more. Not just because we waited, but because we trusted the timing.


Support the Journey:
If this post resonated with you or made you feel a little less alone on your own path, you’re always welcome to support my writing with a cup of coffee. Your kindness helps me keep sharing real stories and new chapters, one step at a time: 👉 coff.ee/smalltownmichele

Still Unpacking and Still Processing

Some boxes aren’t just cardboard. Some are emotional.

It’s been four weeks since the move, and I still have a bedroom full of boxes. Cluttered corners. Stacks that make me sigh just looking at them. Every morning I wake up and think: I just want my room back. My space. My peace. My normal.

But the truth is, moving across the country meant leaving a lot behind, not just things, but pieces of a life that held meaning. It’s honestly mind-blowing how much we had to let go of back in Tahoe. Furniture. Keepsakes. Familiar comforts. Even my daughter’s car had to stay behind… until now.

Thanks to my dad, her car is finally on a transport truck headed for Maryland — so she’ll have wheels for college. That moment gave me a breath of relief, a tiny win in the middle of this chaos. Because even when it feels like everything is too much, little wins still matter. And that car will give my daughter a little more freedom to explore as well as not rely on me to take her to school at the end of August.

The truth is, it’s not easy. I’m over the mess. I’m over the boxes. I want my room back. And I want to feel settled, not constantly like I’m digging for socks or that one charger that’s still hiding somewhere under a pile labeled “Misc. Bedroom.”

Unpacking is exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I’m realizing it’s not just about stuff. It’s about letting go and starting over while still holding the weight of everything that came before.

Maryland is a fresh start, yes. But new beginnings come with growing pains. And sometimes, a bedroom full of clutter feels like a reminder that I’m still in the middle of it.

But here’s the thing: boxes don’t stay forever. They will get unpacked. My room will feel like mine again. And this chapter — even with all its messiness — will be part of the story I one day look back on with pride.

One box at a time. One breath at a time.


☕ Support the Journey

If this post resonated with you or made you feel a little less alone on your own path, you’re always welcome to support my writing with a cup of coffee. Your kindness helps me keep sharing real stories and new chapters, one step at a time: 👉 coff.ee/sm

The Itch I Didn’t Pack For…

If you told me a few months ago that I’d be dealing with ticks in my house, I would’ve laughed and probably made a face. But here we are.

Back in Tahoe, fleas and ticks just weren’t part of daily life. I never had to think about them. But now that we’re in Maryland? I’ve already found three ticks inside the house. It’s giving me that mental itchiness you can’t quite shake. You know where you’re not even sure if something’s crawling on you, but your brain says “probably.” The stupid phantom feelings, LOL.

It’s not just ticks either. The mosquitoes here have made me their personal buffet. I’m completely covered in bites, and I’ve just about had it. The kids are fine (I haven’t put anything on them), and the cats are indoor-only, so they’ve been spared. Me? Not so lucky.

So, I’m trying the natural route. I’ve started using essential oils in the yard, and I’ve been working on planting herbs outside that are supposed to help repel ticks and fleas, like Rosemary, Mint, and Lavender. I also ordered a product called No-Bite off Amazon, hoping it’ll give me some kind of relief. No chemicals, no bug sprays on the kids — just me trying to keep the bugs off my body and out of my space without losing my mind. I even ordered the Wondercide Flea & Tick Concentrate for Yard & Garden and sprayed the whole backyard the other day. Not totally sure I did it right or if I used enough, because I still found a tick in the house today. So… yeah. I’m learning as I go. Maybe I need a second round, or maybe the ticks didn’t get the memo yet.

No one warned me about this part of East Coast living. The trees are beautiful. The air is soft. The backyard is green and alive… but so are the bugs.

Still, I wouldn’t trade the peace we’ve found here. I just didn’t expect to be sharing it with quite so many six-legged roommates.

One bite, one oil blend, and one deep breath at a time.


If this post made you laugh, cringe, or feel just a little more seen in your own messy moments, you can always support my writing with a cup of coffee. Your kindness helps me keep sharing the real stuff, one bug bite at a time: 👉 coff.ee/smalltownmichele