Visiting the Irish Design Center today felt different from the other places we’ve been. Tom Petrone and his wife Maura own the shop, and the moment you walk in, you can tell it’s not just a retail store. Tom talks about every item like it’s part of his own life. He knows who made it, where it came from, and what part of Ireland it represents. It’s rare to see a shop where the storytelling is just as important as the product itself. Most stores sell things. This one sells meaning. You don’t just pick up a necklace because it looks nice.

But that level of authenticity comes with challenges. Everything in the store is handmade or sourced directly from Ireland, which means wholesale prices are already high before the items even arrive. Shipping costs have gone up, and cheaper mass‑produced “Irish‑style” products are everywhere. Shops like this have to fight to stay relevant, especially when people can buy knockoffs online for half the price. Still, Tom’s passion fills the place in a way that makes you want to support it. You can tell he cares about the people behind the products, and that makes you care too. It reminded me that storytelling isn’t just decoration. It’s the thing that keeps small businesses like this alive.

Today I’m going to change up my blog. Hopefully this doesn’t go too badly, and hopefully it’s more entertaining to my total of three viewers. I know you’re supposed to start at the beginning of your day with this kind of thing, but I have to talk about the sunset we saw driving back from Topgolf to the dorm. It was the most encapsulating shade of gold, the kind that pulls up memories or curiosity out of nowhere. I know it sounds corny, but you don’t realize the things you’ll miss until you’ve already left them. That sunset made me think of California and the ocean, and once you start thinking about home and family, you wish you could’ve done one more thing together before you left. It’s the little things you start to miss the most — the breeze, the palm trees, the skyscrapers silhouetted by the sunset, and the warmth of being in a familiar place you get to call home.