We lived on the east coast for two short years while Kev completed his internship and post-doc work. We don’t fall under the adventurous category, but we made good use of our time driving up and down the coast—from Camden, Maine to St. Michaels, Maryland (where some of my extended family calls home). That’s 600 miles of very trafficked roads if you’re doing the math. Tucked between every other road trip, we found ourselves on the train to New York City—a city that stole my husband’s Oklahoma-born heart. Five months pregnant and celebrating Mother’s Day (though I didn’t feel like much of one yet), he walked and I waddled into a charming little spot called Tipsy Parson. That’s where I had the best waffle of my life. Read more
