Dana Burland

Dear mom and aunt Dana, Let me remind you both that you are replaceable. I can pay the rent here with my smile and the charm of my kittenish meow, alone. And your interior decorating? It’s questionable at best. I don’t know why you cover up so many luscious corners and crevices. Clearly you don’t get the joy of running your fur up against a nice slice of baseboard—your loss. You two think you’re so cute making me speak like you know what’s fluttering through my little cat mind. Little do you know that I’m enrolled in Community Cat College and am in the process of studying pop culture and philosophy while writing my thesis on the depiction of felt toy mice in modern media. Yeah, I’m busy when I’m hiding under my mom’s bed; and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop assuming I’m snoozing all day. I’ll tell you what else is unacceptable: company . Be it the furry or human kind, it’s really inconsiderate. You think you can just lock me away in mom’s room because someone’s ‘allergic’. W...

This drank has girl's night written all over it; or classy recovery from a rough day at work; or celebrating it's Monday. Hey whatever you bust out the stemware for, I don't judge. I first put this cocktail together this past summer when my farmer's market was almost paying me to take their blueberries. I usually add a couple slices of peaches too, but no can do in November. True—it's not the most festive cold weather drink, but you win some you lose some, and you got nothin' to lose with this tasty bev. I wouldn't make this too far ahead of time, or else the pop will go flat. Yes, I said pop. And truthfully, it's just as yummy if you splash it all together quickly and plop down for an episode of Modern Family. 

I don't blab about B  too much round this blog, but today is a blab-worthy day. Today marks the 365th day B has put up with my antics — from when I almost, kind of, accidentally stood him up on our first date (then finally showed up with inhumane garlic breath) to receiving regular emails with photos of Boo  (clearly a man's best friend); this boy deserves to be celebrated. When he knew how much I loved to run, he signed on to my 5k a month project , without ever having ran a race ever before. (Maybe it was a ploy to impress me, but guess who's been suffering once a month ever since.) Since he's known I dislike eating at restaurants that I can cook better than, he's hunt for the best ethnic and creative restaurants my tiny town has to offer. This includes a most memorable gut-busting experience at a Brazilian steakhouse, when we both thought we could out-eat the restaurant—which is impossible. When he knew how much ArtPrize in Grand Rapids meant t...

Hello bowl-cut! Once upon a time I had beautifully shiny pin-straight hair. By the time I was old enough to care about what was happening on the top of my head, I wished (like every other female) for the complete opposite. I bought goop that promised to curl and worked it through my straight hair hoping for a change. It all ended the same—a head of wet looking stringy hair, barely bent. When I went off to college, I befriended a ringletted beauty. She spent the majority of our college experience ironing her hair flat while I spent it poofing, spraying and curling mine. Humidity, water and gravity were our great enemies in both hair transforming projects. By the time we graduated, the hair Gods had punished me for all the torture with a wavy-frizz combo that didn't fare well in public naturally. I took to straightening it or pumping it with a wave-controlling product daily. Then I moved to the East coast and the change continued. When I’m able to get home, my famil...

All photos credit Louise. She's a master. 

Listen Internet, I don’t have to tell you how bananas this whole Penn State sex scandal is, just Google it; but to Pennsylvanian residents, bananas don’t even begin to explain it. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to be like every other person weighing in on something I’m not even remotely involved in. Especially because like so many Pennsylvanians, so many of my friends and coworkers are connected to Penn State. As removed as I am, I don’t feel the need to toss my opinion into the ring. But, as crazy, sad and shocking our entire nation has found this situation; I—as a Pennsylvanian transplant—have found the local response too interesting to not capture or share with my out-of-state readers. To get it, you have to get a few basics. State College, Pennsylvania (location of Penn State’s main campus) is in the middle of nowhere—and I mean noooo whereeeee. When I drive to Michigan across PA on I-80 and have only seen trees and rock cliffs for two and a half hours and have two and...

This past Sunday was running themed for me. I woke up and immediately plugged in to the New York City Marathon coverage. I was in charge of pushing results to the Runner’s World   Facebook page , and did just that in my pajamas with a serious case of weekend bed-head. Working for Runner’s World  is not a bad gig. It’s pretty incredible to watch the elite athletes run with such an unbreakable stride for two hours. These women run at a pace almost exactly twice as fast as I do (and for much, much longer). It makes me want to cry a little bit. Watching the end of the women’s race made me want to cry a little bit, too. Mary Keitany , a Kenyan mega-woman, fell into third place just before the finish. She had been leading (by up to four minutes) for almost 23 miles. You know, leading one of the biggest marathons in the world by about eight city blocks, no big deal. I so desperately wanted to give Mary my chocolate chip pancake breakfast fuel to finish first.