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Earlier this December, Alicia and I spent a week in Sedona, Arizona. It’s quite possibly one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen.


My friend Davey, his dad and I crossed this ridge in the White Mountains during our four-day hike there last week

As we carefully navigated down a narrow, craggy path — our bodies sopping wet and exhausted — my friend Davey’s dad asked the two of us what word best described our mountain hiking trip.

“Challenging,” I said.

“Extraordinary,” Davey offered.

But perhaps his dad captured it more eloquently than either of us:


Yes, our trip to New Hampshire last week included climbing thousands of feet of elevation and seeing more breathtaking views than I could count, but also lots and lots of rocks.

The three of us set out on the 14-hour drive to Gorham, N.H. for our four-day hike in part of the White Mountains called the Presidential Range last Saturday. It’s the first time I had ever hiked a mountain range, and the setting was not what I expected.

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A few weeks ago, my good friend Brian announced he was engaged. Shortly after, he and his new fiancé Debora asked if I could take their engagement photos, to which I happily obliged. Not only was I glad to help out a friend with the 100% close friends or relatives discount, but I was also seeking a bit of redemption.

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In the final hours of my summer break, local crooks found the perfect way to symbolically mark its end. They stole my bike.

When I woke up yesterday to get to the IC to work on our back-to-school issue, I went out to my deck to eat a quick breakfast, and after a few minutes, the realization crept over me ”“ something was missing. It’s strange how you don’t immediately recognize when something isn’t there when it’s supposed to be, but I finally noticed my bike was no longer locked to the side of the deck.

I’ll now have to replace the almost-$300 investment. But, even though these petty thieves could steal my ride, they can’t rob me of the wealth of memories I’ve built sitting on that bicycle seat this summer.

Click below to read the rest.

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I stopped by Swan Creek Park on my drive home and met some trusting deer. Luckily, I had slung a camera over my shoulder just in case I saw anything during my walk along the snow-encrusted trails.

These guys let me get within about ten feet. They’d look up every time I shot a burst of frames, but other than that, they pretty much ignored me as I stepped off the trail closer to them.

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