What Alaska Did to My Sense of Time (And Why I Keep Thinking About It) 💛
I ordered reindeer sausage from a café in Alaska because the sign on the door told me to.
Not literally. But it was RIGHT THERE, and I am not the kind of person who walks past reindeer sausage and does nothing about it. That is not how I travel. That is not how I live.
It was amazing, for the record. Slightly smoky, a little sweet. I think about it more than I should.
That moment — seeing something unexpected and just going for it — is kind of the whole story of Alaska for me. I went in knowing it would be beautiful. I did not expect it to be the kind of beautiful that makes you go quiet without meaning to. The kind that makes you put your phone down not because you remembered to, but because you forgot it was there.
I kept waiting for a lull. You know that feeling on a trip where you've done the big thing and now you're just killing time until dinner? I kept bracing for it. It never came.
The wildlife showed up like it had somewhere to be and was just passing through — which, it turns out, it was. The history was layered and surprising and kept making me want to ask more questions. The people we met, both locals and the folks we cruised with, were the kind that make you think why don't I know more people like this at home? And the scenery kept delivering in a way that felt almost unfair. Like Alaska knew exactly what it was doing and had absolutely zero humility about it.
In Juneau, we had one of the best excursions of the whole trip — the kind that hits every note without you being able to explain exactly why afterward. (If you want the full breakdown of our favorite stops, I wrote about those here.) And then, the moment the excursion ended, the sky opened up. Not a sprinkle. A full, dramatic, Alaska-is-done-with-you-now downpour. We made it back to the ship. Others from different excursions weren't so lucky — the storm came in fast and not everyone got back before it got serious.
We stood on deck watching the rain and I thought: we timed that perfectly and it had absolutely nothing to do with us.
That's travel. You plan everything you can and then you stand back and let the weather decide the ending. Alaska is very comfortable making that call for you.
I talk a lot about intentional travel — slower pacing, breathing room, trips that actually feel good instead of just looking good. Alaska didn't require me to try for any of that. It just was that. There was nowhere to rush to. No FOMO. The place itself had this quality where the urgency I carry around at home simply didn't make the trip with me. I've written before about why travel isn't our escape — it's how we maintain our marriage and Alaska was the clearest example of that I've ever had.
I came back slightly more patient. Slightly more willing to look at something without immediately thinking about what comes next. I noticed when it started to fade — that slow exhale that Alaska gives you — which is how I knew it had been real.
I'm in the early stages of putting together a small hosted group cruise to Alaska for 2027 — because I want to bring people there who need exactly what I got. Not the reindeer sausage specifically. (Although truly, do not rule it out.) But that feeling of being somewhere so genuinely big that your regular-life problems shrink down to a manageable size. Where you can't rush the glacier. Where the wildlife is on nobody's schedule but its own.
If you've ever thought Alaska someday — I want to hear from you. Because someday is a lot better when you're not going alone.
Want to be first to know when spots open up? Reset and Roam interest list. I'll reach out personally when we're ready.
We're Taking the Reds on the Road — And We're Starting Right Where I Grew Up ⚾
I grew up in Cincinnati.
Which means I have opinions about the chili, strong feelings about the bridges, and a very specific kind of hometown pride that only makes sense if you're from there.
So when people ask me why our first hosted Reds trip is Cincinnati instead of somewhere flashy like New York or Chicago — I just smile.
Because I know exactly what's waiting for you there.
The Trip That Reminded Me Why This City Is Special
Last year, Jamie, Lance, and I went down for a game.
We did what we always do — grabbed a hotel downtown, walked to the pre-game spots, took our time getting to the stadium the way you're supposed to. No rushing. No stressing over parking. Just the riverfront, a drink in hand, and the slow build of game-day energy all around us.
That night happened to be Ely De La Cruz bobblehead night.
And not just one bobblehead. A right-handed AND a left-handed version. Two. For one giveaway night.
The place was packed in a way I hadn't seen in years. We were standing in line to get in when the guy behind us leaned over and said, completely serious:
"This is a special day. We're here for the bobbleheads."
They were not there for the baseball.
But then Ely hit a grand slam.
And I promise you — the bobblehead people lost their minds right along with the rest of us.
That's the thing about Cincinnati. You think you're just going to a game. And then something happens and you remember why live baseball is magic.
Why We're Starting Here
I could have launched our first group Reds trip somewhere with more Instagram appeal.
But here's the truth: Cincinnati is one of the easiest, most enjoyable baseball weekends you can plan.
Downtown is walkable. The riverfront is beautiful. The hotel-to-stadium situation is genuinely one of the best in the league — you can walk or hop the trolley and skip the parking spiral entirely.
And the vibe before a Reds game at Great American Ball Park? There's nothing quite like it.
We know this city. We love this city. And that means when you travel with us, you're not getting a travel agent who looked it up on Google. You're getting someone who grew up eating Skyline Cheddar at 11am and has zero regrets about it.
I've written about how to plan a Cincinnati Reds weekend if you want the full breakdown — but the short version is: it's easy, it's walkable, and it's really, really fun.
(If some of you are my friends from back in the day — hi. Welcome. Nice to see you.)
Here's What We're Doing
Jamie and I have dates locked in for May and June — two separate Cincinnati trips, small groups, built around a Reds home game each time.
The usual Harmony Horizon 360 way:
Downtown hotel, walkable to everything
Built-in breathing room before the game
Pre-game spots that actually feel good, not rushed
Space for the trip to be what it's supposed to be — fun, easy, and worth it
If you've ever wondered why these kinds of trips matter more than they look like they should — I wrote about that too. But the short answer is: shared experiences in a new place do something to people. In a good way.
Spots are limited and intentionally small. This isn't a bus tour. It's more like: come do this thing we love, with people who actually get it.
Want In?
If you've been curious about what a Harmony Horizon 360 trip actually feels like — this is the one to start with.
No flight. No complicated logistics. Just Cincinnati, the Reds, and a really good weekend.
👉 Join the interest list here and I'll send you the details directly.
And if Ely hits another grand slam while we're there, I take full credit.
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