Talk about a match made in heaven.
When I fell head-over-Lucchese kicks in love, moved to North Carolina, moved again to Texas, moved again to Tennessee and then lived through my heart shattering into a million pieces as I packed my bags yet again, I knew adventures could heal my soul.
This blog and I have been through a lot together: graduate school, first jobs, second jobs, cross-country moves, third jobs, fourth jobs, funerals, an engagement, a marriage ... and a divorce.
We've learned a lot, grown even more and we're still adventuring.
Let's adventure together.
Then by the power of the witness relocation program I became accustomed to a life of black cows, wheat pastures and cowboys. White Label, Polo wearin’, smells-like-freshly-cut-hay – cowboys.
While not completely true, that is the story I told my sixth grade class when I didn't have a strong reason for my family's move to Oklahoma.
After 5 years – and two degrees – in Stillwater, America, I packed my gas-guzzling SUV and moved to the thriving metropolis of Oklahoma City, which is where Rural Gone Urban got its start.
I was raised on rural route three out past where the blacktop ends, and now I'm traveling the world spreading the digital strategy gospel to agriculture and food industries. About time I put that master's in international agriculture to good use, am I right?
While living a roaming existence - somewhere between rural and urban where Starbucks occupies most corners - I have my choice of grocery stores (traditional, speciality, organic, farmers' market), and I participate in the paved concourse of twisted roads where the people drive boxes, on their way to work in a big box, where they’ll probably stare at a box all day.
I love agriculture. And food. And taking pictures of food and agriculture. So, here we are.