KirstenL4W

At last, the long-awaited post, the one in which I tell you all about my wedding. But first, let’s start with the onslaught of family.

Arrivals

My mom arrived in town the Wednesday prior, so I picked her up from the airport when I got done work. We drove to her hotel and I laughed hysterically at Mom’s passport photo as she was being checked in. We got up to her room, mom started unpacking and showing me the dresses she bought for the dinner and wedding, and we chatted a bit. I called the man who at this point was still FH to see if he wanted to join us for dinner, but as he had a previous commitment couldn’t make it, so Mom and I went to the um, buffet at her hotel (downtown hotels here generally don’t have the best dining selections, but Mom had a coupon). We had a barely palatable meal, then Mom and I parted at the elevators so I could go home and get some rest, since I did have to work the next day.

Thursday was uneventful since I had to work. Friday I was off, and my Dad was coming in, so I spent the morning finishing up some chores around the house and running a few errands before going to get Dad at the airport. He had left early and didn’t eat on the flight, so I figured he’d want lunch. He said he wasn’t too hungry, but quickly agreed that In N Out Burger would be a good choice for lunch. Dad hadn’t been to In N Out yet, since they don’t have any in Massachusetts, but he’s had to listen to me rave about it so I figured it was about time. We had lunch and continued on to his hotel.

(Side note: Google Maps is not always accurate when giving directions to the hotels here in town. For Mom’s hotel, I was thinking I’d valet park, but the directions brought me to a back alley and I ended up self parking. For Dad’s hotel, I don’t even know where I was being led, because his hotel is on Main Street and the directions brought me down a dead-end on 1st Street, 1 block south of where I needed to be.)

Anyway, I dropped Dad off and told him I’d pick him up at that same spot at 6:45 so we could all go to a “Meet the Parents” dinner that FH’s uncle graciously decided to host. On the way back home, I called Mom to tell her when and where I would pick her up. I went home, where FH and I started getting ready for this shindig.

Meet the Parents

This was not getting off to a good start. I took a quick shower to wash the 109°F sweat off my body, got dressed, put on some makeup, actually did something with my hair, and left to pick up my parents. A few miles from the house, I realized I had forgotten something. Something important. My engagement ring had been left on the bathroom counter. I took it off to keep it from getting all lotion-y when I put lotion on my legs, and in my nervous haste forgot to put it back on. I put in a panicked call to FH, who looked for it but said he didn’t see it anywhere and that we would probably have to take the drain apart when we got home later that night. Great. Just what I need - to lose my e-ring the night before my wedding. Just breathe.

I got to the designated meeting spot and saw my Dad right away. My Mom said she’d be waiting with my uncles, who flew in Thursday, but I didn’t see her. I pulled over to wait for Mom and saw my uncles walking towards me, with my mom off by the sidewalk looking around in vain. I greeted my uncles, gave N. the collection of foreign stamps that I am easily able to collect at work, and greeted my Mom, who had finally figured out that I had arrived and came over to where I was.

We drove from downtown Vegas to the Four Seasons, which is in a leafy, semi-hidden area next door to Mandalay Bay. FH’s uncle had chosen Charlie Palmer’s Steakhouse for dinner, so it looked to be a good meal. My folks and I looked to be the first ones there, so we waited in the lobby. FH arrived shortly afterwards, sweating bullets because the air conditioning in his truck just died. Wonderful. No matter, the a/c at the hotel and restaurant worked just fine. Anyway, FH walked in, introductions were done and we chatted for a few minutes before heading into the restaurant, where we met our hosts, FH’s uncle and his wife, and FH’s parents. Introductions, a bit of chit chat, and a little embarrassment.

What’s that? Oh, yes, you heard me right. Right after the introductions and pleasantries, FH made me tell everyone what I called him about on my way over there. So I had to tell my future in-laws how I had misplaced my engagement ring. While I was telling this, FH had taken his keys out of his pocket to give his dad a key to a toolbox he had stored up there. Turns out he had something else on that keychain too. Yes, he found my ring, but faked me out about it. I know him well enough to know that in a situation like that, he wouldn’t let me get off so easy, so I knew it was a possibility that he had found it and hadn’t said anything to me, which is what ended up happening.

We got to our table, and FH’s uncle sat at the head of the table. He instructed me to sit next to him and FH’s mother to sit on the other side, so she was across from me. FH had warned me about this - The Inquisition. This was the first time that FH and I had met each other’s families, and his family wanted to know what sort of woman he was brining in. There were questions about what I did, how long I had lived in Vegas, how we met, my family, and some other topics of conversation. I didn’t feel put on the spot at all, and I didn’t feel that anyone was displeased with me, so I thought it went well, and FH felt the same way. Three hours later, we wrapped things up and said our goodbyes for the evening.

Getting Ready

I swear, I have not had such a good night’s sleep in a very long time. The night before my wedding, I slept a solid 8-9 hours and woke up feeling calm and refreshed. It is definitely the ideal way to start your wedding day. FH and I got up, relaxed a bit, checked some email, and went out to run a few errands. We had to drop the favors off at the reception restaurant, put gas in the car, and we decided to get some lunch while we were out. I think there was some other errand in there, but I can’t remember now. The restaurant told us that our cake had already arrived and that they were ready for us later in the evening.

After our errands, we went back to the house to relax a bit. Quite honestly, I could have used a nap right about then, but time was not on my side. I planned on getting in the shower with plenty of time to dilly dally as I got ready, and though I didn’t have enough time to dilly dally, we weren’t late. FH had to help me get dressed, because I wore a custom-made corset and he’s the only one I know who can lace one properly. I wasn’t worried at all about him seeing me before the wedding - I mean, come on. We live together already.

Once we put on our wedding finery, it was time to go. The camera case, a change of clothes, and a few other incidentals went in the car and we were off to The Little Church of the West.

The Wedding

We arrived at the chapel in my Ford Focus hatchback (excellent wedding transportation, btw, if you are driving yourself and not wearing a full hoop skirt) and saw that my parents and uncles were already there. We quickly said hello and went into the office to register. The thing about Vegas weddings is that there are LOTS of them. I figure there were at least 6 other couples and their parties on the grounds while we were there, and that was a slow day. These chapels are really good at “get ‘em in, get’ em married, get ‘em out.” CTG can back me up on that one! Anyway, they were efficient, patient with a bit of disorganization and some frazzled nerves, and did a great job.

Once we registered and got our flowers, it was back outside to mingle with our friends and family while we waited. People arrived about every 5 minutes, so I think we were able to get everyone introduced. Finally, it was our turn and we were led up around the back of the chapel to take a few pictures before heading in. Everyone went in ahead while I made one last adjustment to my veil and took Dad’s arm.

The music started to play, Kaila, my maid of honor, walked ahead, then it was our turn. I wasn’t as aware of everyone staring at me as I thought I would be. That was probably the single biggest thing freaking me out before the wedding, since I’m not the kind of person who likes everyone staring. But the chapel was small, the walk was short, and before I knew it, it felt like me and the wonderful man I was there to marry. Everyone else seemed to disappear.

The pastor started to talk, and I presume he was making some sort of speech on love and what it meant to join in marriage and all that. I don’t remember. I do remember, however, my groom telling me I had a big booger hanging out of my nose. Then he started flaring his nostrils. If he was trying to keep me from crying, it worked. I had to fight to keep from laughing. He continued on, telling me that Kaila, who was standing behind me, was losing it. I pictured her with her eyes all red and puffy and trying to keep from bawling. It was hard to keep my composure.

Finally we got to the vows. My groom deliberately appeared to be thinking this decision over before answering, which was quite funny because he reacted to every line with a different “thinking” face. I didn’t have to think about it at all and answered very quickly. Then the rings, which was relatively uneventful except mine didn’t slip on as easily because my fingers swell in the heat. Then it was done. The pastor announced us husband and wife, and I got a quick peck on the lips. Mister got chided for that, and after a bit of protesting that he wanted more privacy for anything more risqué, he gave me a longer kiss and everyone clapped.

Introducing Mr. and Mrs. KirstenL4W!

Woohoo! We’re married! Ok, for the purposed of this blog and Mister’s privacy I announced it that way, but I’m a traditional girl and I am taking his name. I mean, I got to move up the alphabet, right?

Anyway, immediately after the ceremony the chapel people kicked all the guests out except for the wedding party so they could take pictures. A few pics with the wedding party, and they our attendants were given the boot too. The photographer does dozens of these things a day, so he knew exactly what poses to do and how to get it done quickly. I only blinked in one! Mister hates having his picture taken or shown, but he graciously agreed to let me show you one, so this is all you get:

The Reception

After the wedding, we were having a reception at one of our favorite restaurants, an authentic New York style Italian neighborhood restaurant. All the guests got postcards with the directions, so we headed out. By the time we got there, a few of our friends had already arrived, and more and more people were arriving. In all we had about 30 people in attendance, which I think is big enough to have a proper party but small enough to keep it intimate. We also cut out a lot, like the dorky dances and throwing the bouquet, but I did toss the bouquet to a friend of ours who is planning a wedding for late next year.

We decided to do the cake and toast part before the meal, since it was getting late and we knew that some people had early flights out the next morning. Tom, the owner of the restaurant, brought our cake out and made sure that everyone had champagne. Tor, the best man, made a lovely toast, then Mister and I fed each other a bite of cake. No cake smashed in the face for us, we were going to be civil about this. Oh, and the cake? It was gorgeous, and topped by an awesome topper made by my friend Pollyhyper (yes, she does custom orders)

After the cake, everyone ordered dinner and Mister and I tried to divide our time between everyone, but even with a tiny reception of only 30 people, it was hard to give everyone an equal amount of attention. In the end, it all went very well and we were very tired by the time it was over! I got a lot of comments on how much my mom can talk (she has a blog, and it would be great if she could type as much as she talks) and how wonderful everything was. Mister and I then got home and totally collapsed in bed.

So there ya go - my wedding story. These are the only pictures that are public, at Mister’s request, so you have to be on my Flickr friends list to see the rest, and I don’t friend just anyone. You can always send me a request and see if I reciprocate, just let me know who you are. My fingers are tired now, so enjoy.

I don’t often write about work, mainly because I work for Big Company and I don’t want to get myself in trouble for anything that might end up on this blog. But this I have to tell you about (without giving away any major identifying details, of course).

We had what was being sold as a mandatory departmental meeting, being held at an off-site location. Of course, this location was a well-known video game arcade. We were supposed to be doing team-building exercises. Most people I know aren’t keen on these forced fun activities, but hey, it was an afternoon out of the office on their dime, so who cares if we have deadlines!

I headed over to the meeting location and was shown to a room with lots of tables set up, and sat down at a table with the rest of my group.

We found out the meeting was being catered, so we all lined up to fill our plates with yummy fajitas and enchiladas. Good stuff, man. The brownies and eclairs were divine. Oh, and there were drink tickets. We were assigned 2 each, but there was very low security surrounding the tickets, so obtaining more than the alloted 2 drinks was really easy. But, I did have to drive home, so I only had 2 of these, which went perfectly with the Mexican food. Did I mention I have a camera phone? Comes in really hand, let me tell you.

After stuffing our faces, we were let loose in the arcade. We had a list of 10 games in the place, were put into teams, and each team had to have most of its members play every game on there. Each teammate had to play at least 3-4 games. Then there was scoring and shit. Our team ended up tying for 2nd place. Woo hoo!

I’m generally not an arcade person, but since it was for the team, I decided to play. (We had cards for free play, btw.) First up was Indy 500 racing. I came in 1st when racing everyone else on my team, then in the finals came in dead last. It was cool, though, because you sit in this car that moves so you feel all the bumps in the road. They are really hard to handle! But way fun.

Basketball is kind of basic. I got 14 in like, a minute or something. Then it was on to skateboarding. I had no idea what I was doing, but ended up with 34/50 coins, which is pretty decent on the tutorial level, I hear. Ms. Pac Man was easy, since I played that as a kid. The motorcycle one was really hard. I ended up getting lost INSIDE a building on that one. And the pinball game we were supposed to play was broken, so I played another one. Good old fashioned fun! I did skip the Dance Dance Revolution, since I was being a responsible driver and not swiping everyone else’s drink tickets, which would have been the only way you could have gotten me on that game. Also skipped 2 shooting games and the Star Wars one, since I suck at all those kinds of games. All in all, a decent day, even if it was supposed to be for team building. But I do think that mission was accomplished, because we were all put on teams with people we didn’t really know all that well, so I met some people I had never seen before in our department.

Check out these other pictures I took with my camera phone:

Here’s the Coke Bottle from inside the building.

The Lion in front of the MGM Grand.

The President is visiting Las Vegas.  Unlike most visitors to this town, his will not be a visit filled with debauchery,  but like most visitors, he is here to try and make some money.

Enough about politics.  I really hate political discussions.  What I’m here to talk about tonite is some plane spotting.  I’ve talked about how easy it is to spot airplanes coming and going from McCarran International Airport here, and honestly, even though the majority of the planes I see are the Southwest Airlines 737s, I still never get tired of seeing the planes.  I drive along the 7/25 runways on my way to and from work every day, and since Las Vegas is a world famous destination, I do get to see some nice foreign airlines.  Tonite, however, I was eager to see Air Force One.  This is the 747 that the US Air Force keeps and maintains, and it is called Air Force One whenever the President is on board.

Security is predictably tight.  Normally, tower communications for traffic on the 7/25 runways is broadcast over an FM radio station, which I can tune into while I am driving along the center and eastern portion of the runways.  Typical conversations are pilots looking for landing clearance, getting taxi instructions to get off the runways, and the tower giving takeoff clearance.  Tonight, however, there was a sense of urgency.  All departures were routed off runway 1R, which sits at the western end of the airport and since it uses a different radio frequency, I was unable to monitor radio transmissions.  I was able to hear air traffic control demanding that all traffic switch to the other frequency, so I knew Air Force One was close.

Normally incoming traffic lands on runway 25L, which is closer to Sunset Road, where I was watching for the plane.  Planes then get taxi instructions to cross 25R, which normally has outgoing traffic on it.  Since there was no traffic on 25R, I had a feeling that 1) they were keeping 25R clear so as to move the few incoming planes off the active runway and to their gates as soon as possible, and 2) Air Force One would be directed to land on 25R.  Like I said, 25R is further away from the road, and therefore the public, so it would be less of a security risk.  Point 1 is just a theory, but I was correct on point 2.  The flight was due to land around 8pm, and ended up being about 45 minutes late.  The observation parking lot on the north side of Sunset Road was closed off, so Boyfriend and I parked across the street at an industrial park.  Boyfriend brought the camera and tried to get pictures, but since it was dark and the aircraft was still moving rather fast, he did not get to capture the image he wanted, or anything close for that matter.  It was still a memorable sight.  I could vaguely make out the blue and white paint, but I did (almost) clearly see the US flag that is on the tail.

One more note on security.  In the parking lot of the industrial building, there were a number of people with cameras, sitting in their cars listening to the radio.  It was really no more than a dozen people.  As soon as the plane touched down, a nondescript, tan, older model SUV went speeding out of the parking lot, heading west, presumably towards the executive terminal.  I believe that the President gets off the plane near the executive terminal, which is the place where all the rich people go to take a limo directly to their private plane.  Trying to coordinate security so the Prez can pull up to a gate would be a logistical nightmare, and the news did report that commercial aviation would not be affected by the speical flight plans.  Private flights are grounded, though - at least out of McCarran.

I haven’t read about the President’s departure plans, but since he has a speech and luncheon planned for tomorrow, I assume he will be taking off sometime around the time I leave work.  I’ll check the news tomorrow to see if there’s anything, because it could always affect my commute in some way, but if I’m lucky I can see it take off.  I’ll have to remember to bring my camera to work, so I can have the possibility of taking a bad picture of a tiny plane (no way will Boyfriend let me take the DSLR to work, so I’ll be stuck with my point and shoot.  Wait, that sounds bad considering it’s a matter of national security.  I’ll be stuck with my regular, not so magnificent camera).

So that is the highlight of my extremely casual plane spotting.  What is your favorite plane-spotting experience?

It wasn’t hot out today.  Far from it - average daytime temps for this time of year in world-famous Fabulous Las Vegas Nevada are in the mid-50s F (55°F = 13°C).  It was, however, a hot news day.

The Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino caught on fire today.  I work just south of the airport, with a really decent view of the strip.  Frank and I were just coming back from a meeting down the street when we heard there was smoke appearing to come from New York New York.  A quick online check revealed that it was actually the Monte Carlo that was burning.  From our vantage point, the smoke had an eerie 9/11 look to it, since the “skyline” of NYNY totally blocks the view of the Monte Carlo, so the smoke looked like it was rising from the NY skyline.  Kinda freaky.  Of course, it was Friday, and getting close to lunch, so we went online to watch streaming video of the news reports.  I was on the phone with Boyfriend as he watched it on TV.

I wasn’t surprised to see that news of the fire quickly spread around the world.  Las Vegas is a world famous city, after all, and big news like this that has a direct effect on tourists visiting our city tends to travel fast.  Luckily, even at this late hour (it’s 8pm local time, the fire broke out around 11am) there are still no reports of injuries beyond a few with smoke inhalation.  The casino is closed for the time being, but since the fire was contained to the upper floors, and seems to have mostly affected the facade of the building, I expect that the casino itself, which is on the ground level, and at least the lower floors of guest rooms will be reopening in about a week.  There’s a news special on tonite at 10pm, which I intend to watch.

It’s always weird when the news in your city makes the international papers, even when you live in a world famous city.  Before the news special comes on, I have a ton of blog posts to catch up on since I spent quite a bit of time watching the news online and then in a lunch meeting, so I didn’t get my midday fix.  Off to read what all of you are up to…

My sister called me a little while ago. I was kinda surprised that my phone was ringing, since most of the people who call me are on the east coast, and it was well after 11pm there when she called. She was so excited, she had to call someone, and I was the only person she knew who would be awake. Just a few minutes before she called, she and her man were out on the lanai enjoying the evening when all of a sudden, the utility poles on the next street blew up, one after another all in a row. She said it was spectacular. Of course, she’s enjoying the romantic candlelight right now. Ah, the things I have to look forward to when I go to visit her for Thanksgiving.

Earlier today, I decided I was going to finally try a sandwich shop that continuously wins Best of Las Vegas awards. I saw that they had a roast beef sandwich - not a sub with au jus - so I decided to try it. I have not had a good roast beef sandwich since I was back in Massachusetts. You just can’t seem to find one once you leave Mass. And all you fast food enthusiasts out there, please don’t even suggest Arby’s. I ate there once - ONCE. They have roast beef loaf instead of the real deal. I’m all set with that. What I want is a good old fashioned roast beef sandwich.

While the sandwich I had today was far beyond Arby’s, it was not what I had expected. The meat was well done, and though I usually like my meat on the fully cooked side, there is only one way to eat roast beast: rare. Also, the meat was a bit over-seasoned, and though it was shredded, it was cut way to thick. They grilled the roll for me as I asked, but it wasn’t buttery enough. At least they had Tastykakes. Yes, I know, Tastykakes aren’t a New England thing, but gimmee a break. My mom is from New Jersey and I developed a liking for them on my many visits to the family farm.

I want a roast beef sandwich with rare roast beef, sliced on the thinnest deli slicer setting. Yes, I want my meat to be see-through. A very buttery onion roll, grilled to a light golden brown so you get a nice crunch when you take a bite. Lots of mayo. Some people like BBQ or horseradish sauce, but I like to clog my arteries. I can’t find one here. I asked a coworker today if she knew where I could find one. Since she lived in Boston for a number of years, and she’s been in town at least as long as I have, I figured that if anyone would know she would. And yet, she didn’t. Meh. I guess I need to add it to my list of foods to eat when I go back there again.

On a side note, I was in the middle of composing this post, switching back and forth between tabs, and on my way back to the tab that I had my Create Post in I accidentally clicked the X to close it instead. OH NO!!!!! But I checked the menus in Firefox, and lo and behold, I came back without having to recreate my post. For those wondering, I went to History > Recently Closed Tabs. It not only brought me back to this page, but my entire post was intact! Yippee!

And time for some more pimpin’ - Zac was on tv this morning pimpin’ the hearse club. It was an interview on early morning news, and you can view it here (if you can’t see it, look for the “Get a hearse!” segment. Don’t forget to watch the video!

In other news, the winds have stopped blowing all the smoke from the California fires out to sea, and while it’s not blowing this way like it did in 2003. Back then visibility was pretty bad - less than 1/4 mile and the whole valley smelled like a big campfire. The smoke is here now, though, and my eyes are really bothering me. This picture shows the smoke coverage as of today. The air quality forecast shows a smoke advisory issued through Sunday, though in the moderate level. So we can still see where we’re going when we’re driving around, but my eyes will be feeling like this for awhile. Joy.

I could probably find some more links for you, but it’s late and I’m going to watch the news. Kevin Janison is telling us that the lack of winds is keeping the smoke here through the weekend.

Boyfriend returned on time Friday afternoon - actually about 10 minutes early. I was able to watch his plane land, because McCarran International Airport, the big airport with all the slot machines that is the first part of the Vegas experience for millions of tourists every year, has an observation parking lot. I’d show you on a map, but I’m not feeling very technologically savvy this evening, so I’ll tell you how to find it.

For locals:
Drive in either direction on Sunset Rd past the airport - that would be the 3-mile section between Las Vegas Blvd. and Eastern Ave. There’s only one place on the runway side of the road that you can stop at. It’s a parking lot near PT’s Pub. That’s the place I’m talking about.

For map geeks:
Go to your favorite mapping program. Search for Las Vegas Airport. Scroll around until you find the road that runs parallel to the two runways that run horizontally across your screen. That road is Sunset Rd. (BTW, this is best done in the hybrid map/satellite view.) Now, look for Escondido Street - it runs perpendicular to Sunset. Almost directly across from Escondido is a parking lot that has one long row of cars. That’s the place you’re looking for.

For airport geeks:
You can look up a map of the airport at AirNav - the airport code for Las Vegas is KLAS. Locate the 7/25 runways. You can’t see the surrounding streets on the map, but just south of the 7/25 runways, directly lined up with the A3 taxiway is the parking. Good view, eh?

So, what’s so great about looking at planes come and go?

I know some of you out there are avid plane spotters, so this is a great place to see planes close up, with only a chain-link fence to impede your view. But wait, there’s more! The tower, the one that controls takeoffs and landings on the 7/25 runways, lets you listen! They have a sign posted on the fence of that parking lot that tells you what station to tune your radio to so you can listen. It changes every now and then due to stronger signals from radio stations, but currently it’s at 101.1. You super plane geeks can determine which one of the many controllers that is from the AirNav page.

So, after my abbreviated work day (I overslept big time) and our company picnic (see, I said abbreviated!) I headed over to the parking lot and turned on the radio. I only had one thing to listen for - Boyfriend’s airline and flight number. Soon enough, I heard it. All flights coming in announce themselves, so it’s easy if you’re paying attention. I got to see Boyfriend’s flight land, taxi off the runway and all the way around the D Gates, where it disappeared from view, but only because I don’t have X-ray vision to see through the building. The gate was on the other side. But, I figured that by the time it made it to the gate, I should leave the parking lot and mosey on to the passenger pick-up area. Boyfriend still had a way to go - the 20 minute mad rush to deplane, a long walk through the terminal, a nice little tram ride, then utter chaos going through the baggage claim area towards passenger pick-up. I had plenty of time.

I got to passenger pick-up and cruised around a bit, keeping an eye out for Boyfriend. He’s pretty easy to spot. Not seeing him, and getting irritated with all the maroons driving around the parking area, I found myself a spot and walked over to the crosswalk. A quick phone call to Boyfriend revealed that he was just walking past the masses and heading towards the door, so I’d be able to see him in just a minute or two. I waited (im)patiently at the crosswalk until I was finally able to see him. Oh Happy Day!! I was thrilled to bits to have him back, and Boyfriend revealed how much he missed me too. (Awwww!) He said there was a woman sitting in the row in front of him who had hair similar to mine in color, cut, and even the amount of curl in it. He said it was tough to look at because he missed me so much. Isn’t he sweet? He’s gonna read this and get mad at me for making him out to be such a sap. Really, he’s not. He just blurts out “I love you” many times at random during the day and when I’m in another part of the house doing chores or blogging or something, he’ll come in just to give me a hug. Totally sweet, despite the very intimidating exterior.

So that’s it, Boyfriend’s back and we spent a very boring weekend doing nothing except enjoying each other’s company. And we are both very glad that we are not apart right now. Sappy, I know. Get used to it.

Here in the desert, the season when it supposed to be most likely to rain is known as monsoon season. Now, those of you reading from parts of the world where monsoon means that it doesn’t stop raining for months at a time, I understand you may be laughing at me. But in the desert, a quarter-inch or mere centimetre of rain is serious business. The desert ground is not unlike concrete, in that it is not absorbent. The water from the rains just runs off into the lower lying areas. For those not familiar with the topography of Las Vegas, we are in a valley. For this reason you will frequently hear the metro area referred to as “The Las Vegas Valley“. Water tends to follow gravity downwards. What am I getting at? Well, I’m not drowning. But I am sitting here, staying up a bit later than I ought to be, enjoying the smell of the rain, the flash of lightening, and sound of thunder as I blog, listen to Boyfriend play some silly computer game while sorta watching tv. Yeah, I know, all the electronics during an electrical storm. Whatever. Read the paper to see if I fried.

It was nice to get some time to relax this evening. I took a short nap since I was soooo exhausted today, then made some dinner and sat down with the laptop so I could be online while still being able to spend time with Boyfriend. He’s not been feeling well lately, which we suspect is due to the mold. (No comment on that situation at this point.) Anyhoo, when we’re both on the computer we don’t usually get to be together because of the setup here at home. We have a 1 bedroom apartment, and his computer is in the living room. Because there’s no room left out here, when I moved in my desk went in the bedroom. It sucks, but it will have to do for now until we get a house. But thank goodness he has a laptop, so I can spend time with him while computing. I’m currently set up on the sofa so that I can easily look over the screen here and see the left half of his wonderful face staring intently at his screen as he tries to survive his silly little game.

Anyhoo, the storm seems to be over for now, the clock is getting later and later, and I really need to get some rest.

I went to see Chantal Kreviazuk tonite. She wasn’t touring on her own, but opening for Five for Fighting, but that doesn’t bother me. The ticket price was reasonable, so going to see her for a half hour set was very worth it. She played a few familiar songs, including the one you see above, and then played some songs from her new album, Ghost Stories, and the best thing is that I got to meet her after the show and get it autographed.

Actually, I lied. My boyfriend was dropping me off at Mandalay Bay to see that I got into the venue ok. Then, as I was being my boring old self standing there at the House of Blues all by myself waiting for the concert to start, I was checking the time on my cell phone and saw that there was a voice mail. I called Boyfriend back and he told me to go to the stairs by the bathroom. So I do, and there he is. He bought a ticket to see the show with me because he knew how much I enjoy Chantal’s music. Now is that the sweetest thing ever or what? He did enjoy the show, and said that she is a very good performer, even though generally that’s not his style. He’ll be back at HOB tomorrow night for the Type O Negative concert, which I will not go because loud raucous music is not for me, especially in concert. I’m just not into crowd surfing, ya know?

So I just had to type up this post and 1. share Chantal’s music with everyone and 2. let you all know that I have the Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

So there.

Every now and then I think about starting over. I start to feel burdened down by what I have and where I am, and I feel the need to start fresh, usually in a new location. I’m going through that right now. Vegas feels old and stale, especially with the heat of the summer well on its way. It’s 7:40pm as I write this, and 82ºF outside. We had one or two weeks of spring, and now summer has arrived. But more than that I think about somewhere a bit more refreshing, with greenery, water, and an end in sight when the oppressive heat hits. I think about a smaller town, a slower pace, a simpler way of life. I think about shedding myself of many of the possessions weighing me down.

I sold a lot of things when I sold my condo to move to Vegas, but acquired new things to replace it as I settled in here. Now it seems like I have more than I did than before I sold it all. I’m starting to feel the urge to not only downsize a bit, but swap some of my things for simpler, multi-functional pieces. For example, I have my home theater pieces that I bought about 7 years ago when my boom box crapped out on me. So now, while I have a very decent system, I have separate pieces for the receiver, CD player, DVD player, VCR, cable box, and 5 relatively large, obvious speakers. If I had to do it again today, I would choose something more multi-purpose and less obtrusive, like this. And (I should add this to my to-do list) I would be more vigilant about finding someone with a VCR/DVD recorder combo to burn to DVD those last few movies I have on VHS that aren’t available on DVD.

I’d get rid of so much of those little things I have that I know I really don’t need. I’d be more organized so that I don’t need so much stuff. I dream of having a home as organized and uncluttered as the magazines. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a total clutterbug. I do have a lot of stuff, but it is organized - somewhat.

I’m also feeling the desire to redecorate. I really don’t need to, but I’ve had the same stuff for so long now. My shower curtain and bathroom scheme I’ve had for 7 years now, since I bought the stuff when I first had my condo back east. My bedroom set I bought 4 years ago when I moved here, and while I still love it, I want something a bit fresher - and a bit more ME. Something like this, perhaps. That look certainly doesn’t fit in here in Vegas, in the millions of homes that all look the same with their stucco façade. And that brings me to my next point.

When I first started this blog, I did it with the intention of sorting stuff out and figuring out where my next move was to be. I think that “what next” feeling hits a lot of us - I know Macoosh has been struggling with similar feelings lately. Last summer, when I went back east to visit the family, I was overwhelmed with feelings of wanting to move back there. But not long after my vacation was over, I finally found myself a social life here in Vegas. For those who have never lived here, Vegas is a very tough town to make friends in. When one goes away to college, they say that second semester is when you meet your real friends. In Vegas, it’s not unusual for it to take 2-3 years. Anyway, once I made friends here, I became much more comfortable with the idea of staying here. But I still know that Vegas is not forever. Sooner or later, I will move.

And then there’s the question of where. Three places in particular come to mind. One would be the obvious answer of moving back home. While I do love my family, I do also need my space, so Portland, Maine would be a nice compromise. It’s got a lower cost of living than any of the other major cities in New England without being totally isolated from the rest of New England. Then there’s the idea of living closer to my sister. Florida keeps coming up, and I have enjoyed my time visiting my sister and also my cousin. I’m not sure I would want to live in either of the areas that they live in, but the sandy, salty air that is prevalent all throughout the state is intoxicating. And last but not least, there is the ever-present appeal of the corn-fed wholesomeness of the midwest, specifically Iowa. Not sure what’s drawing me there, especially since I’ve never been there, but the thought will not leave my mind. Therefore, it is a thought worth exploring when the time comes to decide where to go.

It’s definitely food for thought, but for now I think I’ll focus on one thing at a time.

On a whim, I decided to sign up for a blog at Blogcharm just to see if this whole make money blogging thing is for real. But I’m not a fan of random ad content being on my blog (the #1 reason why I won’t sign up for AdSense here). My first post is here. Reading the terms of service has me a bit concerned. I know they probably want to create a friendly community, and I can understand some of the terms concerning splogs and posting frequency and such, but just in case my blog disappears, here’s the text of the post:

September 7, 2006 - The Obligatory First Post Post
“Wow, my first blog post!” How many times have you seen that before? I’ve seen it too many times to count. But, alas, I had to write it. I signed up for another blog, I don’t even know how many I have now all over the net. I suppose I ought to rein them in somehow. My purpose here is to see if this make money blogging thing is for real, so I’ll update periodically just to keep fairly current, but it’s not my main blog. And, after reading the terms of service, I’m wondering if I can even mention where I live:

4. Your blog may not include:

All blogs must be primarily in English
Excessive profanity
Violence, racial intolerance, or advocate against any individual, group, or organization
Stalking or harassing another person
Hacking/cracking content
Warez or Software Piracy
Music Piracy Related
Posting or use of any copyrighted material including MP3s, video, images or any other form of copyrighted materials
Illicit drugs and drug paraphernalia
Pornography, adult, or mature content
Gambling or casino-related content
Any other content that promotes illegal activity or infringes on the legal rights of others
Sales or promotion of certain weapons, such as firearms, ammunition, balisongs, butterfly knives, and brass knuckles
Sales or promotion of beer or hard alcohol
Sales or promotion of tobacco or tobacco-related products
Sales or promotion of prescription drugs
Posting material not suitable for minors
Impersonate any person or entity including BlogCharm or BlogExplosion

Come on now, I live in Las Vegas! I occasionally go to those places where those activities occur and on rare occasions participate in it myself. Am I not allowed to mention that? I’m curious to find out. We’ll see if my blog is still here tomorrow. But for now, sleep beckons.

Get that? No gambling or casino-related content? Living where I do I find it very difficult to talk about my daily life here without mentioning that at all. Even if I don’t frequent the casinos, I drive by them every day, I hear slot machines ringing in my sleep, and because of the nature of this town, the mere mention of Vegas, where I live, is enough to get my blog deleted automatically. Gimme a frickin break!

Something tells me I won’t be there much longer. Besides, their ready made templates suck ass worse than the ones found here. And I know I won’t get my Blogger blog deleted for saying that, because Blogger believes in free speech, for the most part.

I’m getting that feeling again, the feeling of moving on. Of course, just like when this feeling first materialized, I’m not wanting to deal with all the logistics of moving - mainly, renting a truck and packing up everything I own. I’ve lived in Vegas for 3 years now, and I’m in my 3rd home since arriving here. I’m sick of moving, at least, sick of moving all the way too much crap that I own. So I fantasize about just packing up my car and taking only what fits. Problem with that is I have a small car, so it won’t go the way I would want it to. Plus, I’d have to get all those things again on the other end, the practical things one needs. I’d feel free by not having so many posessions, yet feel regret that I worked so hard to acquire the things I have only to get rid of them. There’s always the possibility of renting a tow-behind trailer, but I’d need a bigger car to do that. No way in heck my little 1.2 liter engine is gonna pull anything except my big butt over the Rockies.

I have approximately 10 months until my lease is up, so that’s 10 months to decide whether or not to act on this feeling, and if I do decide to act on it, 10 months to develop a plan of action. Otherwise I’ll renew the lease for another year and see what happens. But I think I’ll stay in my tiny studio apartment until I finally make up my mind to leave. I’m craving that slower pace, a more rural friendliness, more reality, less pretension, and of course a lower cost of living where I could realistically think about purchasing a house without selling my soul to the devil.

My roommate and I have not spoken since the germ dispute, and I have informed her that I will not be renewing the lease on this apartment. Luckily for me, the lease is up at the end of June, so I don’t have to suffer germ discrimination or any other now intolerable annoyances for much longer. I figured with my puny budget I’d better get a jump on finding something, since there’s next to nothing available for what I want to pay (and not be afraid of the neighborhood I live in). I’ve been doing research for quite some time on this issue, mainly wishful thinking and also to keep a leg up on the rental market. But today, lo and behold, I found a place. It’s very near where I currently live and the rent, though a bit higher than I want to pay, is still within my budget. It’s currently occupied but the tenants are moving out in about 2 weeks, so I’ll be able to see it then and put a deposit on it, which will hold it for me until I’m ready in June. I’m so excited!

Of course, for all the rambling I did about the cost of living, I was able to find something I could afford on my own. But this will be the end of all frivolous spending. I’ve done this financially tight lifestyle before, and I’m not thrilled about it, but I guess you can’t put a price on sanity. I’m just gonna go with the flow, live in this studio apartment for awhile and still get on with my life and trying to figure out where it is exactly that I want to go. At least with my own place I’ll be able to do that kind of thinking without any distractions.

In other news, all this darn handwashing I’ve been doing because of this stupid cold has taken its toll on my hands, which have gone from baby soft to 150 grit sandpaper. I hate it when that happens.

Some of you may not find this story too exciting, but for my mundane existence it was quite an adventure.

This evening after work I went downtown to check out an apartment complex I found. Yes, you heard me right. Downtown. Most sane, safety-loving, law-abiding citizens don’t want to live downtown, but hey, on my budget there aren’t many options. Anyway, despite my extensive research I found a place that I hadn’t heard of before. Studio apartments, pretty basic. They’re not run down but they are older. All utilities included, even satellite tv, and local telephone, and I’d only have to pay for electric. Overall, not bad. Of course, it is still a last resort. I’m looking for a casita. There are communities here in Vegas where many of our older, wiser citizens live and some of those homes have detached guest houses on the property. Most people use them as legitimate guest houses or home offices, but a few rent them out. I feel that I have enough contacts that some extensive networking should turn up a few leads, and with any luck I’ll be living in a very safe neighborhood with plenty of peace and quiet. Keep your fingers crossed for me, ok?

Back to downtown. There are plenty of rough neighborhoods and most of them are in the downtown area. General advice is to stay away from the letter and number streets (like A St. or 2nd St). This place is on the corner of 7th and something, within walking distance of the fabulous Fremont St. Experience and many dirt cheap buffets. I pulled into the small visitor parking garage, the one that basically only visitors to the office use. I didn’t know that it was an office hours only thing. There were no signs regarding hours that the garage is open, none whatsoever, but the garage was there and the office was nearby. The office was closed, of course. Whenever I want to just drop by a place to check it out the office is closed. So I decided to take a few minutes to walk around the property and get a feel for it. I struck up a conversation with a resident and started asking questions about living there. He offered to show me his place, so I took him up on it. They’re studios, so I would be able to see the whole place from the doorway, which would leave me an opening if I needed to take off in a hurry. Well, the place isn’t bad at all. I could certainly make do with it if I can’t find a casita. Mr. Resident and I kept chatting away without any worries about the time (isn’t that always the way when you’re yapping so much?)

What seemed like a few minutes into our conversation, I glanced over at my car and saw something was amiss. No, my car was fine. In fact, it was very safe. The gate to the garage was closed and locked with a padlock. Mr. Resident informed me that the gate closes at 6pm and opens again at 9am. By then it was 6:40pm. I have to be at work at 8am. What was I to do? Mr. Resident tried calling to see if he could find an emergency after hours number. No luck. Then we tried finding maintenance, but Mr. R has only lived there a short time and wasn’t sure where Mr. Maintenance lived. During our search Mr. Resident mentioned a neighbor across the courtyard who was a bit “weird” because he seemed to know everyone’s business. I said if anyone knows where to find Mr. Maintenance, it would be Mr. Nosy. Sure enough, Mr. Nosy knew so we went up to the 3rd floor and luckily, Mr. Maintenance was home. He had to give me a bit of a hard time about it, because he wasn’t supposed to unlock the gate at all after hours. I pleaded with him, telling him that I live all the way on the other side of town and had no way of getting home, since I only carried a few bucks with me and didn’t have my credit card. Now, before we found Mr. Maintenance, Mr. Resident offered to give me a ride home. I knew that since my home is so close to the office that I would be able to get to work and someone there would give me a ride to pick up my car, but the issue would be explaining why to my co-workers. They’d never believe this innocent story. No siree, not at all. They would much prefer to give me a hard time about some deep dark secret double life I have that has me getting trapped downtown at all hours of the night, and I’d never live it down. No, I needed to get home and be done with this ordeal.

It was becoming clear that Mr. Resident was an honest to goodness nice guy. Not too many of those downtown. He helped me plead my case to Mr. Maintenance, who after about 60 seconds relented and agreed to unlock the gate to let me out. I must say, I was quite impressed with the security at this place. I live in a much nicer part of town in what’s considered a “luxury” complex, and the gates here are a joke. I’ve never in 2 years of living here had to buzz in a friend or dinner delivery or even the cable installation guy. They either follow someone in, or else every delivery driver in town knows the gate code when the office staff insists there is no code. So anyway, Mr. Maintenance unlocked the gate, Mr. Resident saw that I got into my car and out of the complex safely, and I got home in time to watch some silly movie on tv. First impressions are lasting impressions, and if I can’t find a casita then I don’t think I’ll have too many reservations living in this downtown complex.

Let’s get back to the moving on stuff for a bit. See, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about this and doing all sorts of research on various destinations. I’ve been thinking about whether or not to move. I do have a lot going for me here, but the economics of living here has been a huge negative. As I’ve stated before, I like my job even though it’s not a money maker. I’m not about to get a job that allows me to have the things that I want if it’s going to suck the life out of me. So it’s definitely settled that this job stays, as does job #2 - at least until I get all this worked out.

The thing is, I could be quite happy staying here for a long time, but the seed has been planted. The idea is in my mind and I feel I have to follow through on it. I have never regretted moving in the past. When I was in high school, I moved from my father’s house to my mother’s house and was so much better for it. In college, I wanted to go to school in another state but settled for a school in the next town. That I wish I could change. In my 20s, I actually bought my first home, which is the previously mentioned dumpy condo. It was 20 minutes from my dad’s and 45 minutes from my mom’s and I quite liked it for the time I was there. But it was not a long term thing, and at the back of my mind was the idea to move far away. That’s how I ended up in Vegas. Now I’m wanting to move again. I don’t know if I’m destined to have a nomadic life or what, but if moving is what keeps me happy then I figure I should follow through. Sometimes I get myself down because of a seeming lack of perseverance, but other ideas come and go. The moving one has been with me as long as I can remember, and despite the moves I’ve made so far, it’s not going away.

Someone suggested to me that changing scenery isn’t the answer to finding myself. I disagree. First of all, I know exactly who I am, so finding myself was never the issue. What I am looking for is a place to live that fits. When one is in a relationship with another person, if it doesn’t fit then the relationship is over. Often when entering a relationship is is not easy to know how things will transpire, and consequently people have many relationships and friendships that come and go over the course of their life. It’s the same way with where one lives. Very rarely will someone live in the same house for their entire lifetime. So when moving to a new home, who wrote the rule that it has to be in the same town, or an adjacent town? No one, to my knowledge. Part of life’s experiences are to see what’s out there, and I’m learning more about what I want and what kind of place will fit by being here in Las Vegas. I don’t totally hate it here. I appreciate all that this town has done for me. But I’ve known since the minute I set foot in this town that I wouldn’t be staying. Right now I have my overly pragmatic side at odds with my overly emotional side trying to figure out what my next move is.

I work as an administrative assistant. I like being an admin, but no one ever got rich doing it. I’m not looking to get rich or live the high life. My wages are decent for the job that I do, but not enough to afford my own apartment or even think about buying a home in this town. There are other parts of the country where having my own place is very realistic on the money I make, but Las Vegas isn’t one of those places.

Let’s do a little math:
Average household income in Las Vegas: ~$45,000
Average home price: ~$310,000

Now, if we take the old fashioned way - that is, before ARMs and creative financing - of figuring out how much house one can afford, it would be approximately 3x the annual income. So, $45K x 3 = $135,000. Something seems a bit off, doesn’t it? Even if I did find something in my price range, for rent or sale, I’m really not about to put myself on a fast track to bankruptcy just to have the kind of lifestyle I want. And if you’ve been reading my posts at all, then you’ll know that I’m really sure that the Vegas lifestyle is not what I want.

Here’s a little bit more about me - I am also an introvert. There is an excellent article that I came across online called “Caring for Your Introvert”. I’ve linked to it on the right. I think it’s important to understand that if you are reading all this about me. But don’t get me wrong, I do have a social life - I don’t want to be totally alone. I attend a great church with some really amazing people. I consider my job to be a lot of my social life, because I have so much fun with the people I work with. And I do have friends here. I enjoy a night out with my friends just as much as I enjoy a night in by myself. The key for me is to keep my social calendar light, because if I don’t get my alone time, trust me, no one will like me very much. If I don’t get my decompression time, the stress monster rears its ugly head. I try to make sure I have that balance. Those who know me know all this, those who don’t tend to criticize.

A little bit more on Las Vegas. I’m not bored here. There is a ton of stuff to do, even on an extremely tight budget like mine. But I’m not interested in doing most of that. Those who live here know that locals never go to the Strip unless they have visitors in town. I’m the same way. I didn’t move here to live the glitz and glamour of the casinos every night. I moved here for a change. I needed a change of pace. I needed to live somewhere different from where I was from, to have my own turf, to be anonymous. I found that. But Vegas is a fun-for-now kind of town. It’s not the kind of town where I want to put down roots, and like I said, I’ve known that since the minute I got here. It’s getting time for me to figure out my next move, so I decided to start this blog. I have a diary, and I’ve been keeping one for a long time, using it mostly to articulate my thoughts and figure things out. But this is fun too - fun for me. That’s what’s important, right? I really don’t care that this blog isn’t as entertaining as all the offerings of the Las Vegas Strip. If it was, then I could surely use my talents to make a heck of a lot more money than I am now. But I’m not interested in that. I’m just putting my thoughts down, and it doesn’t matter to me if it’s in a book that I hide in my room or in out there in cyberspace for all to see. This is just my way of getting through the decision making process, and I’m going to do it in whatever way works for me.

Yes, now comes the time to tell you why I don’t like it here. It’s not that I hate it here. There are some very good things about this city. The first is the weather. It’s sunny about 360 days out of the year. Definitely can’t beat that, and I know I won’t find it at the place I end up. Also, we really have world class dining here. Anything you want, any cuisine at all made by nearly any celebrity chef can be found here. And the shopping. Don’t even get me started on that. I can’t afford to shop.

I have a great job. It’s a small company, but I’ve done a lot in the time I’ve been here. The most important thing is that I have stuff to do all day long and I work with some really great people. These people really are my family out here. We laugh, share jokes, support each other thru the tough times, play horrible jokes on each other, etc. I’ve been here nearly 2 years and I can honestly say I have never had a day when I get up and don’t want to go to work. Sure, I have days when I get up wishing I could sleep a little longer (or a lot longer!) but I never want to play hooky. I have too much fun here.

I have also found a really fun church. It’s a fairly new church, but within the same denomination that I was somewhat brought up in (I say somewhat because I wasn’t brought to church with any consistency as a kid). There are some really great people there, and I don’t like to miss church at all, even though again, there are plenty of times when I’d really like to sleep in.

Now, on to the not-so-fun.

Where do I start with that? Ok, the obvious - cost of living. Now, coming from New England, I’m used to a high cost of living. But I had it good. I lived in a fairly dumpy condo that I got a really good deal on, and even with the extremely high condo fee, the mortgage, taxes and condo fee together were still half of the going rent for a place of similar size, so I had it covered. Car insurance, though considered expensive, was reasonable. Groceries were cheap, and since I spent so much time working in a supermarket I knew the tricks. And other shopping, well I lived so close to tax-free New Hampshire that I’d get confused when paying the 5% or 6% sales tax in the other nearby states.

Cost of living in Las Vegas - if I were to take an apartment in my price range, I’d better make sure my life insurance policy is paid up. So I live with a roommate. We get along, but it’s not ideal. I like having my own space, and I miss it. Plus, unlike New England, ALL apartments are in complexes. You won’t find a homeowner with an apartment over the garage or basement apartment for rent out here. More on that later. Um, car insurance. Yeah. Pet peeve of nearly everyone living here. I thought I had driven with crazy drivers before, but now I make it a habit of driving with one hand on the horn, ready to honk. You gotta here. People are absolutely nuts. My car insurance is double what it was back east, and I’ve still got an excellent driving record, same car, good credit and all those things that keep rates down. It’s insane, and traffic seems to get exponentially worse every day. Groceries are expensive here, plus the selection sucks. I can’t find half of what I’m looking for, but by now I’ve given up on most of it and enjoy those delicacies when I go back for a visit with the family. All my other shopping is taxed at 7.75%, up from 7.25% when I moved here in 2003, and I’m sure it will go up again.

Now let’s talk about character. Vegas has none. Nothing is old except the tourists playing bingo and eating at the buffets. Plus, if you’ve ever seen the movie Fools Rush In, where the characters have to count the houses from the corner to know they have the right one, that’s really what it’s like here. I get so lost in these subdivisions because everything looks the same. Where I come from, you could actually use building descriptions when giving out directions. My dad lives on the street with the big yellow farmhouse on the corner. Easy, can’t miss it. Here, forget it. I’ve never gotten lost in my life until I moved out here and tried to find something in a residential neighborhood.

Now some might argue that the Strip has lots of character. I disagree. The correct word for that would be caricature. I mean, come on - you’ve got a shiny glass pyramid, a castle, and a cartoonish rendition of NYC all right next to each other. That’s not character, it’s a mockery. And all the neon is there to make the masses squeal with delight. The first Christmas I was here, I thought I’d trek out to see all the houses done up like I used to do back home. It was very disappointing. The few houses I saw paled in comparison to the Strip.

How about character when shopping? Nope, not here. Sure, the window shopping on the Strip is real fine, just like on Rodeo Drive or 5th Ave. Off-strip, it’s all big box stores. Sure, there are a few stores that are independent, but they’re all in strip malls. Hard to find when you’re driving by at 50mph trying not to get hit by all the other idiots driving around.

And then there’s the people. This being such a fast growing city of people so eager to move here, you’d think people here would be friendlier. NOT! One person I know who was born and bred here didn’t think it all that unusual that she’s never known any of her neighbors, no matter where in town she lived. People just aren’t that neighborly here. Not only do we all avoid each other like the plague here, I’ve never seen so many people trying to keep up with the Joneses than I have here. This is still a working class town, but boy do I see a lot of people driving new BMWs and Lexus cars and SUVs. It’s rare to see a beater, but pretty easy to spot a Hummer. And they’re all so clean. It’s like you’re a leper or something if you don’t get your car detailed on a weekly basis. With water restrictions, that means shelling out the dough, no backyard car washes here.

What am I getting out of living in Vegas? A learning experience. I know the place I’m heading to next is going to be the same sort of place I left, where everybody knows your name, but people are friendlier. I don’t think I can appreciate that unless I spend some time away from it, and Vegas is about as far from that as you can get.

I’ve taken a few road trips in my life. Not really long and great ones. Usually when I needed to I’d just grab a few CDs and drive around aimlessly for a few hours. A few times a year there was the 5 hour drive to visit relatives in the mid-Atlantic states. Though I know that route by heart, it was usually the best road trip I could hope for on my extremely limited budget. I also have a friend in Toronto, and that 10 hour drive I’ve done a few times, most recently in 2001 about a month after being laid off. But I’ve never been on a real go-somewhere road trip, until I moved to Vegas.

Now, I was on a mission to get to Vegas, and since my dad was driving the van with all my belongings right behind me the whole way, I didn’t have a lot of time to dilly dally and actually see anything. So, the trip went something like this:

Day 1: Left early, drove from home to just outside of Columbus, OH. Checked into a Motel 6. Walked to Bob Evans to eat dinner. Food was tolerable, service sucked. Walked back to Motel 6. Wrote in my journal while Dad snored. Fell asleep.

Day 2: Left early, again. Drove from Columbus area to Salina, KS. Checked into Salina Inn (or something like that). Drove to some family style restaurant down the street for some mediocre meal, drove back to hotel. Wrote in my journal while Dad snored. Fell asleep.

Day 3: Left a bit later than usual. Drove from Salina to Colorado Springs. Got some relatives there. Arrived mid afternoon, so there was time to visit. Went to Garden of the Gods, back to relative’s house, ate dinner. Relatives have big house with million dollar view. Dad had his own room, so it was quiet while I journaled. Fell asleep.

Day 4: Left early. Said goodbye to relatives. Drove over Rockies. Dad had headache from the altitude. Utah is full of rocks, almost fell asleep. Dad drove right through a mean dust devil. Arrived in Vegas around 6pm. Unloaded bed, went to dinner at cheap casino restaurant, came home and went to bed.

So, as you can see I didn’t really get a chance to see much. We didn’t even get off the interstate except to pee. I would really have liked to see where so many of those other roads went. Like, in Missouri, where will I go if I get off at Road EE, where will I end up? I want to see the byways - I’ve seen enough of the highways. I want to see the guts of this place, the good people and the hideous yet fascinating roadside attractions. So, with that kind of thinking in mind, this is a bit more what my drive out here went like:

Day 1: Got up early. Said bye to mom and stepdad. Went upstairs to wake nephew to say goodbye to him. He wasn’t really awake, so I picked up his limp body and hugged him until his wicked sleepy dragon breath drove me away. Went in other room and kissed my sweet sleeping niece goodbye. Went back downstairs and hugged my mom until I told her to let go. As I was pulling out of the driveway, I took note of the song on the radio. I hadn’t yet put any CDs in, so the extreme appropriateness of this random moment will stick with me for quite some time. The song was “Drive” by Incubus. You can find the lyrics at the site I have listed in my links. But the song is about not letting your fears be in the driver’s seat. Oh yeah, that was powerful. I never really listened to that song before that moment. Sure, I’d heard it many, many times. I have the CD. But I’d never listened to it. I’m glad that DJ played it that morning.

Got to my Dad’s where he was waiting for me. I took a quick bathroom break and one last look around. Then we were off. Most of that day, we were on roads I was familiar with, and I was having a bittersweet moment all day. I was glad to finally be getting out, but sad that I had no idea when I would next see those familiar sights. Plus, it was a grey, dreary day, perfect for the reflective mood I was in.

Day 2: Definitely no turning back now. The reality was setting in that this wasn’t a dream and I was really going. Left behind the Motel 6 in Ohio and drove through some really rural areas. Ohio, Indiana, southern Illinois, over the mighty Mississippi to Missouri, past lots of billboards for Ozarkland, then to Kansas City. Good thing it was a Sunday and there was no traffic. On the MO side, the highway turned and curved so often that I felt like I was on a roller coaster. I didn’t know which end was up. Then, over the border to Kansas the road suddenly straightened out, and stayed straight through pretty much the whole state. I popped in a CD that I thought was appropriate for the landscape - the Twister soundtrack - and kept an eye on the sky. It was mid-June, and I’ve never seen a tornado. Might be exciting, but not with all my worldly possessions in tow. This was also the most exhilarating part of the drive. Not sure why I thought so. Here’s a picture, maybe you can figure it out:

I felt like I could drive forever in this landscape. I could see for miles, nothing but green fields, along with a few barns and cows. Boring, but I really liked it.

Day 3: This was going to be a short day since we’d be stopping in Colorado Springs. Only 6 1/2 hours today, compared to 14 and 15 hours the last 2 days. We saw more of the beautiful Kansas landscape, then things started to get a little less verdant as we headed uphill into Colorado on the High Plains. Soon the Rockies were in sight, and I was excited since I’d only ever seen them in pictures and once from an airplane. There is something so harsh, though, about the Rockies. Something so unforgiving. Those who have actually spent time there know what I mean.

We took a nice break visiting with relatives (from my Mom’s side - my Dad had never even met these people before, but no matter). Saw a tiny bit of Colorado Springs and Garden of the Gods. Overall, it was a relaxing break from all the driving.

Day 4: It was 47 degrees out the morning we left. I put a sweater on as I said goodbye to relatives. Going over the steep hills and sharp turns of I-70 through the Colorado Rockies, there was still snow on the ground. I admired the scenery a bit, but the road here demanded a lot of attention.

When we got to Utah, wow. Beautiful, majestic, snooze-inducing landscapes. Yes, I nearly fell asleep behind the wheel. There are quite a few ranch exits, but that’s it. Oh, every now and then you come to a travel station. I stopped at all 3 of them. Ok, not sure of the exact number, but seriously, once you hit Utah, you need to stop every time you see one because the next one could be 2 hours off. And Dad thought I was being a freak when I said we’d better stop at every one because you never know when you’ll get the chance again.

Somewhere in the middle of Utah, I saw a dust devil. Not the handful of leaves swirling around in a corner behind the building that we are so used to seeing at home. This was awesome. This was the kind of thing they warn motorist about. It was maybe 10 stories tall (or taller - I had nothing to compare it to). When I drove by, it was in the median. Then I looked at my Dad through the rearview mirror. It was crossing the road. I saw the yellow moving van swerve into the breakdown lane, almost off the road. My stuff!!! Then Dad corrected and kept going. At the next rest stop, Dad was a bit upset at me for making him drive through a tornado. I had no idea, honestly! And he didn’t have to drive right through the middle of it! But we survived, my stuff survived, and we got to Vegas just in time for dinner. Did I mention it was about 105 degrees in Vegas? We went from 47 to 105 in one day.

So I got here, tired and wired. I wanted to see more, but I had to unpack and get the van back. Dad had one more day before he flew home so we went to the Hoover Dam, had lunch on the Strip, and spent one last day together before father and daughter would be living 2700 miles apart instead of 15 miles apart.

Like I said above, there’s more that goes into my decision to move to Las Vegas. The moving part was pretty much inevitable, but why Las Vegas? I don’t gamble, I don’t drink too much (a beer here and there is about it), I don’t go clubbing, and I really don’t care for pretending to be all that, like so many visitors and people moving here do. I do like having something to do past 6pm, but honestly, a few choice places to eat will suffice.

So back to the more part. That all started a little over a year before I made the move, when a man with piercing blue eyes moved in across the hall from me. I remember the day he moved in - I was on the phone with my mom, peering out the window at what was going on in the parking lot. “Hey mom, just peeking outside, new neighbor is moving in. Looks like a single dad, he’s got a couple of kids helping him. Ooh, he’s cute.”

Well you can guess what happened. We got involved. It didn’t take long; I found out later that he would peer out his window at me from pretty much the minute he moved in. He was everything I said I didn’t want. He was shorter than me - only by an inch, but still - and of course the single dad thing. I never ever wanted to date anyone with kids. But I fell for him. Did I ever fall for him. I don’t need to go into the gory details of our relationship, but it ended pretty much just as quickly as it began, and I was devastated. It should have been easy to pick myself up and get on with things, but he lived across the hall from me and still saw him on a daily basis. Here’s a tip: never get involved with someone you live so close to. After months of agony for me, we finally got to a point where we could be friends again. It was still really hard for me, since I still wanted to be with him. I thought he was The One. But I sucked it up and let the friendship take its course.

So what does Mr. Piercing Blue Eyes have to do with my move to Las Vegas? Simple. He has family here, and during our discussions about my decision to move, it didn’t take much for him to persuade me to pick Vegas, since I had already decided on the Southwest. The fact that his mom had a room for rent made it easier - then I wouldn’t be all alone in this big bad city. Plus I figured it would be the best way for us to stay close, since the way he worded things, us not being together was only “for now.”

Flash forward to today: I no longer live with his family. That only lasted a year. And I’m no longer friends with him. That I think I knew had to end long before it actually did. It was my decision, I don’t think he was happy with it, but he had a choice. He chose to accept my decision instead of fighting for me. I realize now that he was holding me back from, oh, I don’t know exaclty, but he was a roadblock. Or rather, a scenic detour that led to a dead end. Time to turn around and pick another road.

First of all, you’re probably wondering why the heck I moved here in the first place. Well, if you’ve ever been to Vegas, the thought of moving here has probably crossed your mind. Either that or you know someone who’s moved here and loves it. There are over 5000 people per month who move here. Not everyone stays, but still, the growth here is unbelievable.

As for me moving, you could say it was my life’s dream to move far away. When I was in elementary school in my not-so-small town, occasionally we’d get a new student - someone who moved there from far away. And once in awhile one of my classmates would move away. I always wanted to be that person, if for no other reason than the anonymity. Remember what I said about everyone knowing my name? Well, here’s part of why my family is so well known in town: my dear grandmother worked for the school system, and was the secretary of my elementary school. Oh yeah. I could NOT get away from it.

Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I have some deep dark secrets that my family can’t know about. I’m not a troublemaker for whom the family name keeps getting in the way (that would be my sister). I’m a pleaser, teacher’s pet, whatever you want to call it. Basically, I was a good kid, always trying to make all the adults around me proud. But I wanted to know what it’s like to live somewhere else. Not just to live somewhere else, but to move, to go through that process, to be the new kid in school. Kind of a weird life’s dream, eh?

In high school, I got a bit of a chance. My parents are divorced, and my mom lived about 20 minutes away. Halfway through high school, I went to live with my mom, so I had to change schools. That satisfied the itch for awhile, but get this - 3 other people in my graduating class were from my hometown. I wasn’t a complete unknown. Oh well.

Now on to college. I was aiming for a particular school over 1000 miles away, mainly because it had a campus in the UK and the study abroad was an option, and I really wanted to go. But of course my dad, who was paying for school (and btw, never really taught me to work hard and make and save my own money), was not keen on the idea of me going far away to school. So I ended up going to school in the next town. It was ok, but I still would have preferred to go away to school.

After college, with my associate degree in liberal arts in hand, I was well prepared for a career in - um, what? No clue. So life became a series of retail jobs until I couldn’t take it anymore. I signed up with a temp agency and got into administrative work. I don’t care for that either, but the hours are so much better and if you find a good place to work, like I have, then the job can actually be fun.

I also spent a lot of time not doing much else - I’d take drives to listen to music and clear my head, and I watch movies and TV a lot. I found a movie at the video store that really brought back my feelings of wanting to move. It’s an independent flick called Ruby in Paradise. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. I rented it so many times that I realized it would be less expensive to buy it, so I did. I still have that video, but I must burn it to DVD. It’s not out on DVD, and I really wish it would be. Anyway, it’s about a young woman striking out on her own. No real climax to it - it moves kinda slow as independent moves are known to do. But it struck a really deep chord with me.

I started fantasizing about moving away. I made plans, what to bring with me, how to pack, etc. I had this romantic idea about bringing only what I could fit in my car, which at the time was a 1988 Toyota Celica. Quite tiny, so my options were limited. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was where to go. I had a few ideas in mind, but none seemed practical. I also had too many ideas floating in my mind to be able to pick one. Also, this is before the internet was widely in use so being able to research any of the potential destinations was not easy. In the end, I decided to wait until I could figure out where to go, and also to figure out exactly why I was going. I felt too much like I was running away, and I didn’t want to get into a pattern of always moving away somewhere.

So over the years I worked the above mentioned retail and office jobs. Then something happened which meant I had to get out of my parent’s house (I had spent my adult life living with either my mother or my father, depending on which suited me). Now I was scared poopless because I had never lived on my own before, and I didn’t think I could afford to do it. An apartment was out of the questions, there was no way I could pay over $800/mo for rent, which was the going rate at the time. Also out of the question was a roommate. At 25, I really really really wanted to live by myself and have complete control over my domain. So after a bit of searching and some pep talks from those close to me, I found what would be my home for the next 3 1/2 years. It wasn’t much, it was a cheap condo that wasn’t in the best kept complex, but I could afford it all by myself. I liked my little home, but after a few years I started getting that feeling again.

After a few incidents at work that ended up getting me recommended to the Employee Assistance Program (as in, see a counselor please, you have issues), I did just that - went to a counselor. After I gave him a quick rundown of my life, he said that he saw a strong theme of me feeling trapped. Well that really got the wheels spinning.

Here’s what I was looking for: Definitely no family nearby, needed my own turf. Lower cost of living, more job opportunities. A city or metropolitan area with lots of options. And after the especially harsh winter we had, I couldn’t get the temp INSIDE over 60F. So I stopped looking at Milwaukee (my first choice) and looked south. Southeast, sure it’s cheap but it’s also humid and with lots of humidity comes much larger bugs. No thanks. How about the Southwest? Phoenix, Tucson, Las Vegas. Did some research and settled on Vegas, the world’s largest shrine to vices and tackiness. So here I am.

There’s a lot more that goes into these decisions, as anyone who’s planned a move like this will know. But that’s the basics of it. Later I’ll tell you why this place isn’t right for me.

Wow, my first post. My first blog. Who’d ever guess that I’d be putting all my thoughts down here? Well, maybe not ALL my thoughts, just those pertaining to what I want to publish in my blog.

A quick background on me: I’m single, 30s, girl. I moved away from home in a New England town where everybody knows your name - well, everyone knows MY name and my family. I love them, but it was stifling. Especially when I’d be in a store and someone would tell me to say hi to my dad for them. Who the heck are these people? I had no idea. “Dad, someone said to say hi to you.” “Who?” “Dunno, I don’t recognize them at all.”

So I moved away, far away, to the glitz and glitter of Las Vegas. Really exciting, yeah, really. Not for a homebody like me. Not that I want to go back to New England. But this fast-paced, fast-growing, always open land of loose morals is not for me. I’ve known that since the minute I landed here. It’s been nearly 3 years now, and I’m still figuring out my next move. I think I have the where figured out, but not the how. Of course it’s the logistics of it all that’s got a practical gal like myself all tripped up.

So, there’s your intro. I’ve got to get my arse in the shower now so I can get to work on time. I’ll post more about my thinkings and sorting this out later.