You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May 2010.

Students at Oberlin College in Ohio were recently tasked with creating new t-shirts for the college’s bookstore. The results did not disappoint: their quirky designs focused on unique aspects of campus, from an orb chair in the campus library to the albino squirrels (?!?!) that hang around the campus quad.

How cool is it to be able to show support for your college without feeling like a walking advertisement (and a sloppily dressed one at that)? I love the idea and am not-so-secretly hoping my alma mater follows suit. I’d happily rock a shirt with an image of the school’s off-kilter steps or awesome climbing wall, and I’m pretty sure my friends Adam and Leanne would want one that asks their favorite dining hall question, “‘Son ya bread?”

I’ll have lettuce and tomato, thank you.

Read the full New York Times article on the project here.

I’m a sucker for anything with stripes and have been known to have a love affair with the color gray, so it’s no surprise that I adore these two perfect summer ensembles. I love their subtle nautical influence and the contrast in styling between them. Wouldn’t the dress be great to wear to a relaxed seaside dinner?

Images via Vanessa Jackman


It’s so wonderfully sunny and warm out today, and I’m starting to really feel like summer is on its way. There’s something about hot weather that makes me crave big bowls of salad. Crunchy, crisp greens taste so much better when the weather is hot and you need something refreshing. My friend Lisa sent me this list of delicious-looking salads, and I can’t wait to try them out. Doesn’t the fennel and radicchio mix look delicious? Tell me, what foods do you crave in the summer?

Remember that time I was gifted a beautiful antique hutch and gave it away because I thought it was too antique-y and didn’t match the style of my house? Well, I now have the perfect use for an antique hutch:

It would be rude to ask for it back right? Darn. I guess I’ll just step back into my office and continue kicking myself.

Image via What Anna Loves.

I have to admit there’s something sexy about a man reading a book–I even sometimes ask Scott to read to me. So of course I’m smitten with this website which posts pictures of men getting literary all over the world. It’s aptly titled “Hot Guys Reading Books.” How can you resist?

P.S. – My sister loves nerdy guys with glasses (the skinnier the better), so I have a feeling she’s going to DIE when she sees this. Enjoy Katie! xo

Lovely readers, what are you doing this weekend? I finished my spring exams (thank God!) and am heading to my hometown for a friend’s bachelorette party. I can’t wait to have cocktails by the beach and reminisce on old times, like when I snuck out of the house to meet the bride-to-be and got all of two miles away before realizing my car had a flat tire. I was frantic, but my sister miraculously came around the bend as I was lugging out the jack and gave me a lift back home. She was totally cool and didn’t tell my parents, but of course they found out anyway. My Dad decided to go on a late-night fishing trip and came back five minutes after leaving the house, wondering why my car was on the side of the road with its flashers turned on. Wamp.

I hope you have a happy weekend filled with friends and free of flat tires. See you here on Monday!

Image care of Never Shout Tahnee

It’s 9:30 p.m. on a Tuesday night, and I’m standing at the bathroom sink, brushing my teeth, minding my own, when I hear it. Bzzz. BzzZZZZ. Bzzzzzz. A fly the size of a small town flies around my head, nearly nipping the end of my toothbrush in its pilgrimage to late-night annoyance. My body is still but my head is on a pendulum, swinging diagonally, frantically in a futile attempt to find a pattern in the fly’s course. Scott strolls in to pee and I blurt out “fly” through the growing mound of toothpaste suds sitting on my tongue. He shrugs and unzips his own fly, starts talking about the latest news of the day. I don’t hear him. I am consumed with the thought that this giant, buzzing fly will make its way into my adjoining bedroom and stalk me all night long with sounds of buzzing far and near. Scott re-zips and leaves the room, staring at me like a crazy person. I think about it for a second, then instinctively grab the hand towel next to the sink and flick it at the fly in despair. As the towel comes away I am wildly pleased to see a thick trail of fly paste left in its wake. Success! And on my first try! I run out of the bathroom and grab Scott, who is now in the living room doing something much less important than killing a monstrous fly. I take his hand, toothbrush in mouth, and lead him into the bathroom, where I jump up and down, pointing with glee. He rolls his eyes in disappointment and lectures me on the inappropriate use of our fancy hand towel. I spit out my toothpaste and make a grand argument on the dexterity it took to pull off such an endeavor. He should be impressed and pleased at my ninja-like fly-killing skills! As we stand in debate, I begin to look for the fly remains and discover the carcass perched on our three-year-old toilet brush. Astonishment. Pointing. Laughter. Negotiation. I win, and Scott picks up the lifeless body with a wad of toilet paper, flushing it down the toilet with the pee that he had left sitting from his earlier visit. As the water swirls down I make the sign of the cross and we hug, crawling into bed giggling. This is married life.

I have a confession to make: I have a photo of this little guy, named Broccoli, bookmarked on my computer. Whenever I’m having a not-so-nice day, I pull him up and he warms my heart. I sometimes even do Broccoli impressions (which involve twitching your  nose and repeatedly blinking puppy-dog eyes; very adult of me, I know) for my friends and family. Isn’t it funny the things that stick with you? Do you have a go-to for cheering yourself up? I’d love to hear. xo

Image care of here

I have been having some problems with my vision lately, so last night my husband read to me from Born to Run, a pretty bad-ass book about a tribe of reclusive Indian runners who inspired a Men’s Fitness magazine writer to join the barefoot running movement. The story is endlessly interesting, and though I seriously doubt I’ll start taking my local jogs sans footwear I couldn’t help myself from continually asking Scott to read me just one more chapter. Falling asleep to his voice was incredibly comforting–it reminded me of our honeymoon, when we read each other Oliver Twist to pass the time on long European train rides. Scott, thank you for sharing your new book and familiar voice with me. xo

Image care of Carlos Porto

A friend of my late grandfather sent my mom this fantastic photo over the winter, and I’ve kept it by my dressing table ever since. I can’t get over how it captures the true essence of my mom at such a young age. She is the child on the left, playing with her mom and brother on the beach where they vacationed every summer. While my beloved Uncle Mark is a bit timid and scared of the water (I believe the word my mom used was “weenie”), my mom is eating every second up. The moment she became an adult she packed up her things and moved to that small beach town where she had no place to live and knew absolutely no one. She moved in the winter time, and jobs were scarce, so she lived off of saltines in a closet apartment where she had no telephone and couldn’t afford heat. She always says the beach was calling her name.

Nearly forty years later, her and my father still live walking distance from the water, and she still sneaks out of work to spend a few precious hours laying out in the sun with her toes in the sand. I can always tell when she’s been on the beach because she’ll call with a childlike excitement in her voice, squealing “Guess where I AM?!?” and I know that she’s in her sanctuary. She always tells me that if she ever gets old and out of it, I should just wheel her to the dunes and let her stay for a while, and she will be in peace. She will be back to the same love for the beach that’s in her voice now and on her 9-year old face in this picture taken many years ago.

Happy Mother’s Day mom. May you always have sand beneath your toes. xo

A photo of me.

About me

Hi, I'm Pam. I'm a runner, reader and recent MBA grad living in Baltimore with my husband. I work in PR, but I spend my off-hours writing here about my life, which mostly revolves around family, friends, fashion and fitness. Sometimes I throw in the occasional food photo just to make sure you're paying attention.

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For questions or freelance opportunities, contact me at theinspirationfiles {at} gmail {dot} com. I'd love to hear from you!

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