Entry: Las Vegas

Entry: Las Vegas

(lôs vāɡ’əs)
Of Overpopulated English. Geonoun.

1. A much-too-expensive electric bill.

1(a). A much-too-expensive everything bill.

2. Prime escapist masking of unhappiness, rejection, and self-loathing.

3. A buffet table of the world’s best buffet tables.

4. The inspiration to introverted solitude upon departure.


Entry: city limits

Entry: city limits

(sit’ē lim’itz)
Of Outed English. Geonoun.

1. The physical point beyond which all responsibility fades into the cloud of smog behind you.

2. A favorite party house for remote, incandescent balls of gas similar in nature to the sun.

3. A motivating force behind music blastation.

Twelve Months’ Adventures

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Today marks exactly one year since the start of my first big excursion: road-tripping up the California and Oregon coastlines to Seattle, the oldest city on my bucket list. In the twelve months since then, I’ve found ways to achieve so many of my personal goals that it’s almost hard to really understand why anybody would let their dreams go unrealized.

Your only excuse for not achieving your goals or fulfilling your dreams is exactly that – an excuse. If you really want to do it, then make it happen, do whatever it takes, set a specific timeline for yourself and don’t let anything or anyone stand in your way.

July 2016: Road-tripped up the West Coast from California through Portland to Seattle

August 2016: Solo-camped Big Sur

September 2016: Road-tripped from California to Texas via Las Vegas run-ins, the Grand Canyon, and Route 66

January 2017: Saw musicals on Broadway via Grand Central Station before pie in Brooklyn

April 2017: Ran around New England for libraries in Boston and lobster rolls in South Maine

May 2017: Solo-backpacked the United Kingdom for sights across the North Sea, the English Channel, the British countryside, and, best yet, the Doctor’s tenth regeneration in the flesh (swoon!)

July 2017: Road-tripped from Texas to baseball in Florida via watermelon on an Alabama church lawn and beignets in the French Quarter

Twelve cheers to what the next twelve months have in store! Do something for yourself.

Sunday Morning Meditations

I don’t know that I’ve ever associated curiosity with adventures. “Curiosity”, to me, has always been associated with intelligence (or dead cats).

On the flip side, I’ve always thought of adventures being sparked by spontaneity, or restlessness, or a change of scenery. Suddenly, it occurs to me that curiosity could be a perfectly valid motivation for adventure.

Thinking back, my biggest adventures have been the product of some degree of curiosity. All my excurions back and forth through San Francisco and the Bay Area were products of musical curiosity. My first time through the Lake Tahoe area was to take advantage of an overnight trip consisting of music and beautiful scenery. Now, my plans to adventure into the East Coast area are partially defined by a historical curiosity.

I personally believe that every adventure is blessed. Especially if it is partnered with curiosity.

With Great Courage…

via @pegandawl

No, no, it’s not a “Spiderman” post. That phrase is just the first thing that came crossed my slightly nerdy mind.

Lately, my battles have been fought making sure all my bases were covered in case of staggering losses. It’s who I am, how I was raised: pay your bills, save a chunk, then be happy with what’s left. Nothing wrong with that – unless it stresses you so much that you can’t actually be happy with what you’ve got left.

I’m completely spoiled by living on my own. There’s just me.

It’s nice…

Very nice.

The challenges come when I find myself anxious to do something extraordinary. Sometimes it’s buying an overpriced concert ticket, then spending all the gas and half the day driving to the grounds, then splurging on garlic fries and t-shirts. Sometimes it’s buying the latest iPhone, or treating myself with a new instrument, or flying to Texas for an outrageous music festival, or picking up the latest Fossil watch. And I’m guilty! A lot of this is material.

Moving across the country? That’s an experience, so many new places, new people, new music, new food! This has been the source of my anxiety. While I find myself too careful, clingy to my community, attached to family, comfortable in what I’ve made for myself these two years in California, Jean-Paul Sartre couldn’t have said it better.

Each day, we are given new life, in order that we might live abundantly. We are given too many good things to enjoy. I personally believe that an abundant life is valuable enough to risk it, “once in a while”.



There are countless roses to stop and smell. Each day is a new rose garden, every happening a new rose.

Roses have never really been my favorite. Before you catch your breath, let me clarify: I am woman (if you’re around long enough, I will roar), and I DO very much love a good rose from a good man. What I mean to say is that I’ve always been more partial to wildflowers. Wildflowers are exactly that – wild. They can grow and flourish anywhere.

My little dog, Blu, like me, tends to be a lot more like a wildflower than a rose. Blu always anxiously anticipates what’s up the road, just ahead. The Mister and I like to hike on days off or walk the neighborhood in the late afternoon while the sun goes down, and taking Blu along usually proves to be quite the endeavor. She hasn’t exactly learned to “heel,” and to be frank, I’m not sure I have a problem with that. Blu tugs on her leash wanting to see what’s next, smell what’s ahead, arrive at wherever it is we seem to be going…. Unless she’s short-leashed, Blu remains six feet ahead of us at all times.

I have a mile-long bucketlist. It makes me instinctively tug at my leash. Living in California these last two years has widened my horizons, and while I have lived, really lived happily, I’m anxious for what’s next.

Here’s to enjoying the wildflowers wherever they may bloom.