Viva Las Vegas, Vol. 1

While I may make jokes about working on an equipment magazine for a living, there is no question that there have been some surprising perks along the way. I've received random gifts in the mail, such as a bucket of Lincoln Logs that doubled as an invitation to a press conference. There was the random tomahawk hatchet that a company sent me that could be used in self defense if needed. But then there was the week-long trip to Europe, which, while there was a lot of equipment involved, still afforded me the only opportunity I've had to date to go across the pond. Five countries in seven days? It was awesome.

And then of course, I've had the opportunity to go to Las Vegas. Again. And again. And again. And again. I've already been to Sin City three times this year for trade shows. Up until this month, I'd only been to Vegas once for fun, and frankly associated the city so much with trade shows that I kind of hated the place. It's not fun to go to Vegas when you're only seeing your hotel, the walk to the convention center, and the trade show.

But then I got lucky.

One day I was setting off to talk to more equipment manufacturers when my publisher saw me walking by and stopped me.

"What are you doing today from 1 to 3?" he asked.
"I don't have any appointments, why?" I replied.
"Want to go on a helicopter ride?" he asked.
(Flashing headlines in my head: "Helicopter Crashes in Vegas Killing Sweet Girl on Board")
My reply: "Uh...I don't know if I can do that...I'll think about it!"

Turns out a company wanted to take him and some other media on a helicopter trip and he was too busy to go. He wanted us to be represented, so someone had to go. Of course I knew that I could not resist a) getting out of the trade show for a few hours and b) having the opportunity of a lifetime to go on a helicopter ride. Alan further emphasized this point and talked some sanity into me. Scared, I made up my mind to go.

Because I made it back safely, I can say that it was a great decision and one of the more amazing experiences I've had thus far. We flew over Lake Mead, the Hoover Dam, into the Grand Canyon, landed IN THE GRAND CANYON for a champagne picnic, then flew back home, hitting the Vegas Strip on the way back to the helipad.*

The view on our way out of town



Lake Mead


Hoover Dam


The Colorado River and the edge of the Grand Canyon



The Grand Canyon


"I can't believe I'm here."



On the way out of the canyon



It was such a surprisingly smooth ride, so if you ever get the opportunity to go on a helicopter ride, whether or not the Grand Canyon is involved, do it! It's a blast.

More Vegas adventure posts to come!

*I just wanted to say "helipad." I don't get to use that word much.

A Tahoe Trip

Several weeks ago Alan and I went on another trip up to Lake Tahoe to go skiing. Alan had felt under the weather a few days before we left, so of course I knew I would come down with another cold. The viruses must mutate when they make the jump from Alan to me because I always get it way worse than he does. We made the drive up on a Friday night with Marti in tow. I always love it when we can bring the little Grizby with us on trips.

After a night's rest, I woke up on Saturday not wanting to get out of bed, much less get up to go skiing. But I'll be damned if a little virus keeps me off the slopes! We decided to do a half-day of skiing instead of a full day, and Alan didn't do much complaining about staying in bed.

Mind over matter


The view from the mountain is quite "Heavenly," more so than you can tell from this picture. The day was cold and snowy; a storm was a-rolling in. If you look closely, you can see the casinos on the right, butting right up to the California line. Nevada takes advantage of every bit of square footage up to the state line.



Skiing uphill, it appears.



Alan, skiing through the Black forest. I did well my first time down and was at least able to capture Alan's photo. My second time down, I fell end over end and wanted to give up.



Marti enjoying the snow. "I thought we left this stuff in Kansas."



We had a great weekend and woke up to 3 feet of snow the next morning for our drive home. After we got help from an experienced chain connoisseur (a tiny old lady) we were on our way.


Thirty minutes in, not yet a mile down the road, and having already suffered road rage of which we are ashamed to this day, we pulled in to get lunch, thankfully, because little did we know that it would be five hours until our next food option. It took us 3 hours to make it 8 miles, at which point they closed down the highway completely for avalanche control. We sat at a stop for another couple of hours, entertaining ourselves and Marti as best as we could. We eventually starting counting, trying to get to 1,000. By the time we made it to 900 we were on the move again. All told, it took us 9 hours to make what is usually a 4.5-hour drive. Our chains were fierce though, and our Saturn made it through the 30 miles of snow like a champ.

A brief hiatus

I realize that I haven't blogged in a couple of weeks, and you, dear readers, are going to have to hold out a little while longer. I've been swamped at work leading up to the "largest trade show in North America" and just haven't had time to slack on the job and haven't wanted to stay on the computer past quitting time. I'm off to Vegas bright and early tomorrow, but when I return I promise you a blog about a 9-hour drive back from Tahoe a couple of weeks ago and all you'll ever want to read about a week in Vegas....and Alan's first Las Vegas adventure!

A preview:


By the way, don't think I haven't noticed the uptick in comments lately. It's been good for morale. Thanks!

It Happened One Night

Last night was like most other nights during the week. Alan and I ate dinner, watched some Jeopardy! and skipped Wheel of Fortune to watch some of The Office, the British version.* I took Marti out for her last stroll of the night as I sent Alan back off to work to bring home the bacon. As I said, just like any other night. Except…..

…when I got back to the apartment the door didn't open as planned. It actually didn't open at all. It was locked, ergo, I was locked out. I knew I didn’t have my keys on me, but I checked anyway. Yep, no keys. Also, no phone. This was going to be fun. I had visions of myself asleep with Marti in the garage until Alan came home and ran me over with the car, thus waking me and maiming me simultaneously.

Luckily, it was only a little after 9 o’clock and I could hear my neighbor up and about with the telly on. I knock on his door, borrow his phone. Call Alan, twice, to no avail. Leave two frantic messages to get his arse home to save me. I take Marti outside…hoping that by some miracle Alan will check his messages. I know I can’t count on that entirely, so when the neighbor’s friend headed back upstairs after a smoke, I ask him if Charles would mind if I used his computer. So I emailed Alan, whilst Marti was running around trying her darndest to be difficult and embarrassing, with the urgent message:

Subject: come home
Message: Come home ASAP. I'm locked out!! No phone.

I thanked Charles for his help, told him I’d knock again if I needed shelter, and went outside to wait. Shortly thereafter my knight in shining armor came tearing down the street to save me and we laughed about how not only did he lock the door, but I watched him do it with my own eyes and neither of us even flinched.

The ordeal only lasted about 30 minutes, but was a good reminder:

• Keep a cell phone on you at all times except in the shower


• Don’t count on said cell phone to save you, therefore, use other resources when necessary


• Memorize husband’s work phone number for emergencies


• Maybe hide a key outside


• If all else fails, have a pug with you for warmth and company

*It’s a great show, innit? It makes me want to speak with an accent and insert Britishisms into my blog. Bonus points if you can find them!

The Plight of the Squirrel

We all know that not every dead raccoon or opossum ends up as road kill. But that leaves the thinking man to wonder: What happens to those animals that die of natural causes? I've never seen a bird fall out of the sky to its death. I've never seen a mouse hobble along until it came to rest in the middle of a field. However, it's official: I have seen a squirrel end up in his final resting place on top of a bush.


It's not the best of pictures, I realize, but I didn't want to gross out my readers, also known as, I didn't want to get too close to the guy. The poor thing must have been in this tree when he met his maker and came crashing down.


I knew immediately when the little guy "landed" because Marti became quite interested in trying to stand on her hind legs to peer up at the bush. Now that it's been there for two months, the novelty has worn off and Marti is no longer interested. Luckily, the bush is above eye level, so I can only see that there is some sort of fuzziness resting atop the bush. I'm just waiting for the tree trimmers to come around one day and get a very dead surprise.

Looking Up

Things are looking up for us out here. Not only has the sun been out again for about a week, but Alan found out that one of his research grants got funded. He put so much hard work into the submission, so it's wonderful to see that his dedication paid off, literally. Plus, not to embarrass him or anything, but it's quite the prestigious award from a top cancer research organization. I like to think I had a hand in it, too, because I edited his introduction page. All of those other sciencey pages were just for show. But seriously, I'm so proud of him and this is great for us. It means that he's not on his boss's dime any more, so there's less pressure to "earn his keep," which in turns allows for more flexibility and freedom...and fewer 90-hour weeks. We are pumped!

We went out to celebrate last week when he got the initial call giving him the good news. Then we went out again to really celebrate on Friday because he got written confirmation that the paperwork was in the works. It was nice to go out for some margaritas to celebrate, especially considering that I'd had the week from H-E-double-hockey-sticks. I learned freshman year in college that procrastination was not my friend, but I fell into the procrastination trap last week. I put off an article I was supposed to write for work until basically days after it was due. Then, not only did I have trouble with people getting back to me, but deadlines for both of my magazines hit at the same time, along with the newsletter I do...which was also an ideal time to have other more frustrating problems with other staff members. Needless to say, Alan and I both needed a drink once the week was over.

I think Alan was trying to do a thumbs-up, but it ended up looking more like the Clinton thumb.



We were so thrilled to be celebrating that we didn't even get mad when we got passed up twice when we were waiting for a table. Who cares!? We had good news and great margaritas.

The occasional downside

As much as I love California, there is occasionally a downside. For example, while winter isn't the 15-degree days of snow and ice we experienced in Kansas, winter in Northern California is cold. And it rains. Buckets. I think we went three or four months after our move without seeing a single drop of California rain. It was a little shocking to have continuously sunny days and no rain or variation in the weather. Well, winter more than makes up for it. I think is has rained probably about 30 of the last 35 days. It wouldn't be so bad except for a) it gets kind of depressing and b) I have a dog I have to take out and we get wet and she gets crazy c) the dog park is seriously off limits because it's a swamp and I've ruined shoes and jeans going over there in my optimism.

In other "downside" news, on Tuesday a gasoline tanker overturned on Highway 101, the major north-south highway just to our east. The highway closed in both directions, during rush hour, until after 10 o'clock that night. Because it happened within just a few miles of here, traffic trying to find alternate routes was pouring onto side streets, causing major bumper-to-bumper problems. People having to get home had to take El Camino Real (a busy thoroughfare on a normal day) or get to a highway to the west--both of which require congesting side streets. I've never seen anything like it. I left to go pick up Alan at 5:52 and didn't arrive to pick him up until 6:32. A 40-minute drive to go 2.8 miles. It then took us another 15 minutes to get to the Stanford Shopping Center, which on a normal day would take about a minute. We stopped to get some food, hoping that the mess would clear up a bit by the time we finished eating. There were tons of other diners in the same boat who had stopped for sustenance, fearing they wouldn't be able to make it home before starving to death.