Dana Burland

Last month I started watching AMC's  Mad Men   on Netflix. You know, that show all the kids were raving about five years ago. (I've never been one to be on time to a party.) No point in posting a late and lengthy review now (CliffsNotes: it’s fantastic; if just for the costumes and set design alone) but watching the 1960’s-based show online, while pausing to check my Facebook news feed of course, got me thinking about the connection between the two. I’ve been turning over my personal social media usage in my head for the last year or so—how I use it, how others use it and why—and though I don’t have any concrete answers to these wonders, I’m getting there thanks to copious amounts of Mad Men . Mad Men characters Roger Sterling and Don Draper Watching the way the actors in the ad company’s creative team pitch campaigns for brands isn't all that different from the way Gen Y’ers present themselves online. Not that many (or any) of my friends are putting pe...

Wah! Vacation is over! I soaked up so much pure Michiganness I'm practically bursting with sun, lake water and my mom's cappuccino chocolate chip muffins. My family and I had a few days of sun and a few of clouds during our week in Harbor Springs (northern Michigan). Still, we carried on with our usual activities, plus some. I figured given my water resume, kayaking down the Sturgeon River wouldn't be too challenging, but turns out steering a body down a straight black line and navigating a hefty boat between trees and branches is about as similar as Mackinac Island Fudge and Hershey's fudge — i.e. not very.  I was much more successful chowing down at the new Thai place in Petoskey. Panang curry is mid-meal drool-worthy. But the new aside, the real joy in vacationing up north is the routine. S ince the loose tooth days of my now 21-year-old  brother  (se riously, once he lost two teeth in the orange shag carpet of my  aunt's chalet  and only one was ever...

Peace out, blog readers. I'm packed up and heading out on vacation. A much needed, beach filled, BBQ rib themed, fudge fueled, Petoskey stone huntin', old school family vacation. Talk to you when I return; if I ever do, that is.

At my sister’s wedding three years ago, I still had Speedo bathing suit tan lines. Never mind that I hadn't swam competitively for years before her special day; there they were, almost embossed in my skin next to my purple bridesmaids dress. This year is the first year my perma-swim tan lines are hard to see, they’re still there, but faint behind my new stenciled tan—a running tank and sports bra tan. I’m pretty proud of it, actually. This summer started off rocky . I was coming off my half-marathon and feeling like I deserved cookies after every meal  a rest. By the time I got back on my feet, it was a zillion degrees out, and my muscles memory? More like muscle dementia. I struggled, hopped back on my bike, took to my yoga mat and finally stopped being such a baby and fought through a couple of really rough runs. Running nine miles for the first time when I had only ran up to six was amazing. Struggling with two when I had built up to 13 was defeating. I’ve real...

  A couple weeks ago while cleaning out my room I found a second clock radio. This is ironic both because I don’t really use the first clock radio I own and because the idea of a clock radio feels so Discman, Nintendo 64 and 1995 like to me. Please, can I see by a show of hands, who here still uses a clock radio? My, it got quiet in here.  I bought the second clock radio when I was in a small house in the outskirts of the town I live in now—by myself. Because walking around in underwear while a college roommate is out of town doesn't really count, this was the first time I could say I was truly living alone. The second clock radio was no impulse buy or accident; it was number one on a list of other household essentials I quickly found out were necessities for solo living. 

Last Wednesday I soaked up holiday festivities at my friend Elena’s place, in the company of good food and good friends new and old. Somewhere between my multiple attacks on the platter of s’more Rice Krispy treats, I overheard Elena’s short, spunky and new-to-the-area friend Erika talking about buying alcohol in the Lehigh Valley. “I just don’t get it; I never get carded when I’m at the liquor stores around here.” Neither do I, but I always figured it was because the state’s regulations on selling booze make buying it so completing-the-Bowser’s-Castle-course-on-Mario-Kart difficult that just showing up to the right store at the right time deemed me booze-worthy. Then the mom of another party go-er piped up. “You know why you both don’t get carded, don’t you? It’s because freckles are trustworthy.” Both Erika and I are spotted and dotted all over, me to the max with some of my freckles starting to freakishly merge together thanks to long runs in the sun. I hadn’t ever associate...

B and I go on vacation with almost the same frequency as I get my hair cut. (To be fair, I push the split-end limits.) The proximity of cool things to see in our area and a mid-western heck-we’ll-just-drive-cross-country mindset mean we’re almost always cooking up new travel plans. These little adventures are great, they’re a chance for us to explore; unwind and leave our cell phones in hotel refrigerators. (Oops.) After five long-weekend journeys, countless day trips and never a flight together—we’ve found our mini-trip groove. Here are some of my favorite quick trip tips: Lunch mid-trip 1. Pack the kitchen sink When we can, we pack heavy—food heavy. Muffins and apples make for easy breakfasts in and pita bread/lunchmeat and the fixins’ have saved us hundreds of dollars we’d otherwise spend at a restaurant. We usually leave room for one or two meals out, and then get to make it count when we do. 2. Vary your plans and limit your prep Before we left for New Hope  we had...