March 21st, 2011 -- Posted in san francisco, the city, travel |
(For the record, I HATE it when people call vacations “vaycays” … or when they spell it “vaca.” Vaca is “cow” in Spanish, ok? Personal pet peeve. Nevertheless, here I am, naming my post as a spin-off of the term. Le sigh.)
I’ve often said that Mexico is the ghetto person’s Europe (I’m not hatin, I still go, I’m just sayin) … well Vegas is the overgrown frat bro’s Mexico. That’s right, Vegas, you are so far down on the list of classy getaway places, you rank below Mexico with adults who are trying to relive their glory days. Or something.
But again, I’m not hatin. Stepping off the plane, you know you’ve just got to embrace it all - the ghetto, the fake, the kitschy. The warm, warm sun, yard-long margaritas and portable drinks make that much easier to do. I have to admit, I care a lot less that I’m walking at a snail’s pace behind a crowd of barely-dressed, Jersey Shore wannabes, when I’ve got a vodka tonic in a to-go cup. We could probably all learn a li’l something from Vegas’ open container laws.
I had to - or at least attempt to - hit the pause button on the dialogue of my inner 50-year-old WASP and just get down with the dirty grittyness of it. And I think I did a pretty good job. We did, however, come away with two rules, which are really all you need to know to guide a Vegas journey:
* Never, ever bring your kids to Vegas (yes, mom in line at Wendys with FIVE KIDS under the age of ten, I’m looking directly at you)
* If you have kids at all, it’s a good bet you’re too old (or should, theoretically, be too mature) for Vegas. It’s like Neverneverland - sometimes you just can’t go back.
February 8th, 2011 -- Posted in career, consulting, entrepreneurship, marriage, san francisco, the city |
When I was ten, I decided what I wanted to be when I grew up - and then proceeded to eventually do it. When I was 16, I picked out what college I wanted to go to - and by the time I was 17 I’d applied and been accepted. When I broke up with my highschool boyfriend (now a dear friend of mine) I vowed I wouldn’t go through that again - so the next guy I dated was the guy I married. Obviously not all of my plans and decisions have been wise, but throughout the course of my entire life - for as long as I can remember anyway - I’ve been a planner. And the things I’ve planned, the courses I’ve laid for myself, have been fulfilled with precision.
Which makes what I’m about to say even more surprising.
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November 15th, 2010 -- Posted in san francisco, the city |
Ryan and I have this running joke that midwesterners qualify their food with three standards:
1. It’s cheap
2. The portions are good
3. The food’s decent
I should point out this isn’t just conjecture; we’ve actually heard people say these things, though maybe not in so many words (not the least of which are my parents who I’ve seen apply some variation of said list in none other than the likes of ITALY and PARIS). And my food-lover’s soul dies a little bit.
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October 8th, 2010 -- Posted in family, san francisco, the city |
I was born 30. At least. And in some ways I’ve continued to age to the point where I’m now somewhere in my late 50’s. In terms of my social life I am and always have been pretty lame. I never partied and never really wanted to. I never experimented with drugs or sex. I went to class and went to bed on time. I ran for student government … blahblahblah. You get the point.
I’m slowly catching up in some areas - I played beer pong for the first time last weekend with my neighbors - but I’m still that girl who brings wine to a kegger. More than once. And I know some people think all this will catch up to me and sometime soon I’ll become a raging partier with more rebellion than sense. It could happen but I’m skeptical - in part because I’m living my childhood now, and I kind of think I appreciate it a lot more.
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August 17th, 2010 -- Posted in religion, san francisco, the city |
What’s gotten me into trouble though is my suspicion that a person can be a follower of the way of Jesus without affiliating with the Christian religion, and my simultaneous lament that a person can be accepted and even celebrated as a card-carrying member of the Christian club but not actually be a follower of the way of Jesus. And even worse, I’ve proposed that I would rather be a follower of the way of Jesus and not be affiliated with the Christian religion than the reverse.
-Brian McLaren
Finding our Way Again