Maybe tomorrow I will clean the dishes that are starting to support life

I was so productive today it was stupid. I managed to not only switch shifts to accommodate the much anticipated band I wanted to see tonight, I got out early so I could run some errands.

I work a fixed schedule of 2:30 pm to 10:30 p.m. every Monday through Thursday. This presents an awkward schedule for someone that work best at dusk. My best hours are spent pretending be productive.

Getting out at rush hour presented some strategic difficulties, but I think I managed to take the most inconvenient routes due to traffic congestion and pit-stop locations. Still learning the ropes of the road around Los Angeles.

To heighten the suffocation of the all consuming traffic, I drove for blocks stuck behind a truck with a rusty metal pole precariously thrown into the bed. It looked ready for launch and impalement upon the nearest sudden light stop.

I think I’ve seen too many of those “I narrowly cheated death and now it lurks behind every corner in the aim to kill me suddenly and seductively” movies. Those movies were a hit with the kids for a while.

Taking another crowded side street in the vain attempt to find my bank and avoid death, I realized I was without gas. I tend to wait until the last minute and hope I don’t run out of gas in the process.

So far it’s been an efficient system.

My vehicle has yet to see a carwash under my ownership. The layers of dirt and bird poo can attest to that. Living in Southern California does not offer much cleansing rain either.

Moving here from a swamp land it never occurred to me to wash my car before. In fact, it was a known fact that if you wash your car then it automatically rains. Thus rendering your wash useless, leaving you with dirt on your car and mud in your face.

Standing there bored waiting for my tank to fill with precious fossil fuels inspired me to squeegee off my windows and even some unsightly dried on shit stains off the hood.
Close enough to a bunch of guys running around cleaning off your car.

Sister called upon me to supply the household, meaning her, with Q-tips or more generically called cotton swabs. This calls for the 99 cents store. Not only is it one whole cent cheaper than the dollar store, well actually that’s the only difference.

I must proclaim how much I enjoy finding random junk and sometimes necessary items to buy at the 99 cents store.

I found hair ties, bobby pins, paper towel, chewing gum, wire clothes hangers, because they were the best deal compared to the plastic ones, and managed to resist a bag of chips that was much too small for 99 cents, despite my desire for it.

I got to laugh all the way down the isle saying, “NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!!” in my best Joan Crawford impression. Other patrons avoided eye contact. My sister used to claim it was one of her favorite movies growing up.

This always slightly disturbed me.

As it turns out, today was Teach Your Children How to Silently Walk Behind Moving Cars Day. That sure raised anxiety back to nerve shattering levels.

I even managed to grab my clothes from the fluff and fold ensuring clean undergarments for tomorrow. Having someone else clean your clothes is not a cop-out. When you don’t have time to sit at the laundromat yourself, I need someone to make sure creepy men with their hands down their pants stay away from my panties. Plus, they will match your socks and fold your panties into little swans.

Turns out, I could have bought a kidney on the black market for about the same price. It’s based on weight and apparently my clothes are heavy enough to sink a ship. Maybe not an oil tanker, but a least a fine yacht.

Alas, even if I would have come across my correct bank branch it was well past five when I retrieved my underthings. All those bank slackers had closed shop.

This being said, I worked at a credit union and remember almost having a nervous break-down and heart palpitations by the time 5 o’clock rolled around. I really do pity the fools.

To top it all off, I even managed to get some writing done. Not on the news assignment that got returned to me for “necessary corrections” due to my broken spirit, but writing none-the-less.

Of course this is all after eight hours of work, but who’s really counting.

This is Bat Country: IV Edition

We climbed out of the tent in the cool of daybreak. The morning view did not disappoint.



First thing we jumped into the lake enjoying our first taste of shower the entire trip. Clay slid between my toes and I sank into the foreign muck. Adam floated on the surface to avoid the squish.

Following suit, I watched the clear blue sky fade behind the jagged surroundings. My toes sparked with anticipation for salt water.

Driving in Vegas, there was not one Nevada license plate to be seen. Instead California plates repeatedly enclosed us on the strip. With a sea of tourists, I ignored my usual anxiety for blocking traffic to make a turn or one again taking the wrong street.

No one knows where the fuck their going.

We arrive at the expansive Venetian. This is Vegas on Labor Day weekend. The line to check-in looked like the wait for Magic Mountain. The entire place was crawling with people.

Avoiding the throng of people near the fountain, I go to a check-in booth off to the side. The woman informs me that we are in a VIP suite, would I like to follow her into the designated VIP check-in.

Yes, please.

Try to remain calm. Did I mention this is my first time to Vegas?

Inside are families sipping on coffee and perusing the snack bar. I wait for our bags to arrive via Adam and sip on iced tea. He and I giggle all the way up the mirrored elevators.

Vegas hotels are mazes to keep their guests trapped and confused. They are designed to keep you boozed and spending money, while you have no concept of time or location. I would proceed to get lost in my own hotel on several occasions.

The decadent hallway is suggestive of The Shining with blood-red carpeting and a sense of lingering debauchery. We arrive at the presidential suite.

We push through the double doors and I stifle a scream.



My sister’s entire apartment could fit in the living room. Floor to ceiling windows light the living room complete with full-dining table and grand piano. A remote powers the hidden television, surround sound music and the drapes.

I run into the master bedroom to find an overstuffed bed and more couches for lounging. This gives way to a marble bathroom, walls covered in mirrors. I stop to admire myself from all angles at once.

Vegas exploits narcissism.

The shower can easily fit eight comfortably with a perfect view of the action from all the mirrors.

This connects to the sauna and another dressing room with plenty of closet space for my bags. There are of course TVs in every, single room.

I am still screaming.



Running through the living room to the other bedroom, yes the other bedroom, I find Adam in disbelief. There are two double beds and yet another full bath with another Jacuzzi tub. The shower is too small for me, so I claim the master bedroom.

The space screamed decadence and sex in every way you would want it to.

Adam and I enjoy our separate rooms and the luxury of having a real shower. I laugh the entire time. Naturally, I utilize both shower heads and the steam just because.

I jumped on all of the beds for about twenty minutes wearing the provided hotel robe.

We counted five toilets, two showers, two Jacuzzi tubs, three beds, six TVs and one grand piano. I could have never left the room and been completely content.

The afternoon was ours for the taking.I took multiple showers and a bath.



We head up to the pool deck that spans across the roof of the Venetian connecting to the adjoining hotel, the Palazzo. Chairs cover the entire place literally stacking people on top of one another with wading pools scattered about.

Despite the heat people are piled into hot tubs. A suggestive blow-up doll is thrown into a tub crowded with children. After no personal success, a pleasant pool attendant finds us chairs to lie in. We got drinks to celebrate our luck.

It pays to have a sister with connections.

Due to the holiday weekend, none of the provided VIP passes would get us into the secluded pools for free. At least not Adam.

Tempted by the famed Tao Beach, I leave Adam to fend for himself and guard our things. Walking-up to the line I bypass a collection of bare-chested men waiting for entry.

“I can just get in for free?” I ask as the doorman straps a bracelet on my wrist.

“Girls get in free. Welcome to Vegas.”

If Facebook were an actual place, it would be the pool deck at the Venetian. Half naked twenty-somethings filter around cabanas staked with booze and bikini-clad girls dancing on their lounge chairs. It’s all about status.

Finding myself without any purpose, I go to find Adam and continue to soak in the sun.



Adam snoozed while I went to pick-up sister from the airport. I got lost both ways with sister getting very frustrated on her iPhone’s lack of help on directions.

I almost hit multiple pedestrians wandering about and sipping on tall souvenir drinks.

My favorite part about Vegas is you can drink everywhere, including the streets. At the liquor store the cashier asks if I want to open my beer before I leave, pointing to the chained down metal bottle-opener. Of course.

Back at the suite, Sister and I run around the room laughing and screaming some more.

We were to go to XS nightclub and had to be promptly ready at nine to get in. Sister’s client not only hooked us up with the room, but put us on the list.

It turns out that meant we could get in, but we would pay 50 dollars for girls and 200 for guys. Oh, hell no. We scramble for plan b.

Kelley, a friend of sister’s, entered the room disgruntled and stressed. She was our fourth in the room and had an entourage of antsy ladies that would be meeting us for the evening.

Adam and I got ready much too early, so he was sent out to get pre-drinks. Left to my own devices while the girls finished their faces, I dance circles around the piano, the furniture and end-up shimmying in front of the windows with a view the Vegas strip before my eyes.

We are about to pronounce Adam dead and leave without him when he finally gets back with the liquor. He explains his wild goose chase to a “nearby” liquor store down the street. He ended up going so far, a nice group gave him a ride back to the hotel.

We haven’t even started the night yet.



The front desk put us on the list for Tao, a nightclub inside the hotel. We wait in an impossible line outside in the heat. Looking at the crowd was like watching an elaborate still life painting melt before your eyes.

We get up to the front and the doorman scrutinizes Adam’s shoes. His black suede sneakers just will not do. He won’t be getting in with those things.

No one warned me you don’t bring boys to Vegas.

He of course has no other shoes, despite my no so subtly telling him to bring nice clothes to go out in. I didn’t even think about shoes and apparently he didn’t either.

I hate to say it, but we left the man behind.

Our herd of ladies, pushed inside. Rented sectionals flowed over with paper thin girls and muscle men too wide for their arms to rest. We were not allowed to even sit near the furniture.



While we danced the night away, Adam created entertainment.

He explored the casino prowling blackjack tables posing as an international Scottish music sensation. I must admit his accent is damn good. He actually convinced some girls that he was legit.

Bringing them up to the nicest room in the hotel didn’t hurt. He serenaded them giving the piano the most attention it’s probably ever gotten.

Us ladies got separated. I got blisters from walking the entire length of the Palazzo/Venetian. The trip ended with a locked room and me without a key.
The repeated doorbell failed to gain any attention.

Devastated, I started to walk back to the front desk in hopes to gain entry. Exiting the elevator on the main floor, I found a triumphant sister and Adam came stumbling my way. They had valiantly gone looking for me.

Our troupe lumbered down the gilded hall and back to our Tara. Adam and I watched the sunrise over the Vegas strip sitting before the immense windows in our hotel robes.

Morning came and Adam I go to raid the VIP lounge for food before taking him to the airport. Women overstuffed with collagen wearing string bikinis and stilts for shoes, saunter by.

Guests shift their eyes at one another like competitors at the craft table. A concierge brings fresh sandwiches out and the guests attack. I approach an empty display in a matter of seconds.

A petite Asian woman hobbles past me, plate overflowing.

Once more to the airport. Again I got lost there and back.

The strip is a feat of its own. One must fight through bodies and vendors to get anywhere. Drunken crowds stagger through the streets grabbing pamphlets about the best hookers in town. I secretly felt dejected for never being offered a flyer.

Massive complexes are themed to be exotic locations from around the world. Distraction and perplexity are key. Light shows over man-made lagoons stopped crowds in their tracks making it that much harder to get to your destination.

The girls waited for me a restaurant sharing a hefty salad that I mustered-up the courage to partake.

A slight girl to the right of us dined alone. She breathed in a salad, bread and an impossible bowl of pasta to our disbelief. She shouted at the shocked waitress for the bill before half of ours was enjoyed. Exchanging a look with the waitress, we finished our joint meal.

Another night of indulgence food, drinks and dancing. Confetti fell from the skies and bodies moved together to primal beats. Strobe lights cut movement into still photos.

We all fell in love at one point that evening, even if only a fleeting moment.

You know what they say about Vegas.



I managed to get back to the pool the last day and enjoy as much of the desert sun I could stand. Kelley and sister flew back together, leaving me to end the last portion of my trip alone.

This is way it always ends.

Exhausted and besieged by the strip, I drove towards the city of angels. Another life of success and decadence. Of sun and sand and surf.

Images of water danced behind my eyes as drove home.

Naked on the Edge of the World: III Edition

No one could have prepared me for the awe that is the Grand Canyon. The sheer size and depth is incredible. Sitting on the edge of a cliff I can feel clean air circulate around me and drop down into the chasm.

This is the perspective I have been waiting for.



Just imagine what settlers thought when they first stumbled upon it. How the hell are we supposed to get around this thing?

Adam and I woke up way after dawn despite our plan to see the sunrise. Apparently dawn comes earlier here. We packed up and went to the camp office to straighten out our not so welcomed arrival.

The pleasant ranger explained to me that we were to be expected this evening not last. I found this odd for I remembered distinctly choosing Friday not Saturday for our reservations, but ignored the computer glitch.

Tourists were abundant. Families clustered around the designated viewing areas posing little ones and taking pictures. A plethora of languages sprinkled about charged tension in the air.



Upon first sight, all breath dropped to my toes.

Leaning over the bars I noticed one squirrel sitting on the edge below, staring off into the deep. Who knows what thoughts of wonder, fear or connection he felt. Maybe his wife left with the kids and with this economy he’s a suicidal squirrel.

Adam also noticed the squirrel to the delight of all the tourists. Flashbulbs go crazy.



We watch tourists meander about. It’s our own personal reality show with a hell of a backdrop.

An elderly gentleman strolls over to the edge with his thumbs linked in suspenders. He tilts his hat with a smile on his face, “That’s one big rabbit hole.”

Wandering off to more secluded areas, we find trails and unrestrained bluffs.
Smoking a celebratory joint, we sit and marvel, legs dangling into the abyss. Outstanding.

We climb and explore all morning. Adam’s 6 foot 4 inch frame finds each cliff a challenge. He begins to conquer each bluff and explore every cranny.

I find the perfect view through careful examination. I stand at the edge of a smooth rock and let the wind embrace my skin. My cotton dress falls loosely to my ankles, not ideal for rock climbing.

Yet this dress is as good as naked at the edge of the world.



Sitting from my perch, I watch Adam slide around on loose dirt below.
I hear a couple approach. “Honey, I can’t stay here. I don’t want to watch someone fall and die. C’mon let’s go, c’mon,” a woman says diverting her eyes as she drags her husband away.



After basking in the wonder, Adam I departed to meet my sister in Vegas. The culmination of the trip will end in a luxurious suite in the city of sin.

Pulling out of the park Adam checks the map to follow our route. A smile spreads on my face as I think of seeing my sister for the first time in almost a year. This is going to be trouble.

“I can not wait. She is flying in tonight and staying until Monday. My buddy is getting married today, but I think we missed the ceremony. He went out Friday for his bachelor’s party, which must have been insane with a bunch of military guys in Vegas. I’m so excited.”

“Wait, you do know it’s Friday,” Adam says looking up from the map.
“What? No it’s Saturday.”
“No really, today is Friday.”

I grab my phone to confirm. I hadn’t gotten service throughout the mountains or at the Canyon, so I turned it off to save power. Adam’s phone died in the first two days.

I start to laugh. It’s fucking Friday. We got to the Grand Canyon an entire day early.

“Dude, we don’t have anywhere to sleep in Vegas until tomorrow. No wonder the reservations were off. I don’t understand what happened. I seriously planned the entire trip out. I’m such an idiot.”

“We’ll find a site to camp on the way. We’ll just hang out tonight. I’m on no time schedule. No worries.”

This is why I brought Adam. I figured if he can work as a caretaker for mentally disabled adults, he can survive a car ride with me.

We stop at a market along the road to buy drinks and snacks. I am still laughing at my stupidity. No wonder my mom almost had a stroke before I left.

The five hour trip from the Canyon towards Vegas can only be described as hot. Every couple of miles I scoffed in disbelief at our predicament.

Adam drove until we came to a barricade in the road. Unfortunately, we realized it too late to switch drivers. Adam has a suspended license. I though I was going to vomit and ruin the upholstery.

He drove through without a hitch, but sweating like stuck pigs. I naturally took over driving.

The Hover Dam seemed weak in comparison to the Canyon. Of course, we stopped and appreciated the sheer power of the structure, the epic design.

Lake Mead seemed a likely spot to find a campground. We found a perfect place that had lots for 10 dollars. We would be right by the lake surrounded by mountains. The perfect view to wake-up to.

The desert is hot. A storm ignited in the sky and almost took away my adorable little tent. Despite the lightning and Adam’s insistence that we would get rained out, there was no such relief. It only stayed hot and gave us a light show.

After a few beers, some champagne and a broken stoneware cup, we climbed into the humble abode. I dreamt of a shower and dancing the night away.