25th Birthdays are Best Celebrated with Friends. And Margaritas. Lots of Margaritas.

It's not often that I travel to the western side of my beloved state of Washington, but when I do I am always impressed by how beautiful western WA is. As an eastern WA country girl, my idea of beautiful scenery is an old barn that is barely standing up in the middle of a wheat field, but as a young woman with the eye for beauty of any kind, I enjoy and appreciate a change of scenery.

If you are traveling to Vancouver from eastern WA and are driving along the Columbia River, most of you probably skip over to the Oregon side where you can drive on freeway. Next time, instead of going through Portland and then crossing the bridge to Vancouver, take the Cascade Locks exit and then take the Bridge of the Gods. It's a toll bridge that costs a dollar for most vehicles and gets you back onto the Washington side. It's a beautiful, windy drive that will bring you into the Washougal and Camas area, in which you can still get to Vancouver. This is the way I went to meet up with one of my college best friends/roommate at her new home where we'd celebrate her birthday and hang out for the weekend.

Meet Meggan.

As a bridesmaid at Meggan's wedding, July 2010

During our college days, at a friends birthday party

And goin' way back to spring of 2006 when we helped gut houses in New Orleans after Huricane Katrina.

She's a good friend of mine who recently joined the ranks of many fine quarter-century-old folks like myself when she turned 25 last month. We celebrated the occasion with friends, food, and plenty of drinks, as most twentysomethings tend to do, at her and her hubby's home in Vancouver, WA.

Whoever got them the Margaritaville mixer as a wedding gift was either an angel or a genius. Or quite possibly someone who frequently comes over for margaritas. I'd like to find that person so I can invite them to my wedding. For the Margaritaville mixer, of course.

Along with their adorable labradooddle, Bella, we ate and drank, talked and drank, laughed and drank into late hours, or possibly early hours, of the morning. Brandon, her husband and Margarita-extraordinaire, made sure no glass went empty. And no margarita mix was left.

The next morning, amid left over tequila and whipped vodka (try it with orange crush soda...tastes like an orange creamsicle, yum!), we cleaned up and realized the happy newlyweds had somehow managed a size-able collection of alcohol left over from the party. The bottles of liquor lined up on the counter would make any 20 year old college boy proud. I suggested lining them up on top of the counters for decoration. Apparently, I have yet to grow up.

After the house looked back to normal, and by normal I mean beautiful. Meggan is not only one of the nicest, most down to earth, and funnest people I know, she is a wonderful decorator and keeps her house always looking great. Meggan, you inspired me to clean my house when I got home. If I had a roommate, boyfriend, or husband, they would have thanked you. (Although I do already keep a pretty clean house, fyi.)

After there were no traces of birthday/margarita party left, we decided to go for a hike. A hike up Multnomah Falls, which is in Oregon, off the freeway. Perfect. I love to hike and have driven past these falls my entire life and have never even so much as stopped for a look. It was a beautiful, warm day and the three of us set out to reach the top.

From the road...also where it looks like a lovely little hike. But don't be fooled. 

The view from the bottom of the falls is quite pretty, maybe I'll just sit here. (That didn't happen)

Stopping to take a picture inside a "cave"...what tourists.

What a beautiful day. And a great view of the Columbia River, which someone ignorantly referred to as a lake. Besides resisting the urge to throw the idiot into his so-called "lake" I also put in a good workout on my way to the top. Good thing Meggan and Brandon are troopers and kept up the pace.

We reached the top!

Lovebirds.

Meggan and I resting (finally) at the top.

 

 

Once you reach the top of the falls there are lots of areas to sit and rest. Even dip your feet, or your face, into some ice cold water. Or splash your friends while they aren't expecting it. Don't worry, they'll appreciate it.

After our legs had turned to jelly and we made it back down to the parking lot, we decided food and beer was the ideal way to celebrate a hike. Duh.

Off to Edgefield we went. What is Edgefield? It's a resort. It's a place for concerts. It's like Disneyland for grown ups. Oh wait, that's Vegas. Okay so it's not exactly Vegas. But you can get some pub food or enjoy fine dining, get a great tasting beer or glass of wine from the on-site winery and then wander the grounds (very Vegas-like), play a round of golf, pamper yourself at the spa, get married...well you can't just randomly get married there but Edgefield is a beautiful wedding venue. I'd plan ahead for that.

And there is much more! Seriously. Check out the website...

McMenamins - Edgefield Homepage

 

You never realize how much you needed a weekend away with a good friend until you're on your way home and you're missing them already. In my case it was when I missed the exit to get on the freeway toward Portland (the shorter route) and was headed back along the WA side, complete with windy roads, construction, and a slower speed limit. With a good laugh at myself and a smile for how great of a weekend it was, I headed back to my side of the state.

 

I love you, Meggan! Thanks to you, Brandon, Bella, Katie, and everyone that made the weekend great!

 

Life Is A Piece of Cake.

Just go with me on this.

You know this 25-year-old, unattached, hardly (financially) stable girl can't possibly be comparing this crazy, messy, rough and rocky thing called life to a sweet and satisfying piece of cake. Believe me, I'm not.

I went to church this last Sunday. For those of you who knew me back in the days of walking on my tip-toes, singing in front of family members (sometimes with a four-year-old crafted spotlight), and bossing my younger brother around, you know that I come from two wonderfully made, strong, Christian parents. I was in church every Sunday. Attended Sunday school. Never missed a Youth Group meeting. I am so thankful for my upbringing. And thankful that I grew out of the prancing on my toes and hogging the attention phase. My brother is also thankful I quit making him play school and house with me. I am also holding fast to the statement that I did, in fact, grow out of the hogging the attention phase. Some of you may beg to differ.

No matter if I like a little attention or not. That's not my point.

Church on Sunday. I must point out that I do not attend church every Sunday. I am not perfect, neither is my church attendance since leaving my parents home. But what I was raised on, and what I truly believe, is having faith in God. This is not a preachy-preachy blog post...so those of you who were just about to stop reading, please continue.

Before I get to my point, which I'm sure you think I had forgotten about, let's talk about cake. I'm a sugar addict. A choco-holic. A cookie-craving, ice-cream dreaming, obsessed with the sugary, sweet stuff freak. It's quite the diet killer. But it's quite the delicious addiction. I am usually pretty good about silencing my inner candy-coated demons that seduce me with their delicious yet high-calorie concoctions every time I see a freshly baked cookie, a pretty little cupcake, or a big chocolate cake. But sometimes a girl just has to give in and have a cookie. Or two. Or three. Hey. There is no judgment here.

Imagine my delight, and the groans of my ever-growing hunger as the sermon grew closer and closer to lunch time, when the pastor began to use cake as an analogy in his sermon. The sermon, I must add, was on hope. And that hope is not that God will give us exactly what we want, but that having hope in Him is that He will make everything work out for our greater good and for His glory. Of course we do have to hand over the reigns of our control-obsessed lives to Him and have that hope. But it is so worth the ride when God is at the reigns and not us.

Life is not perfect. It's full of ups and downs that give us bruises and scars all along the way. And at times, and on more than one occasion on the roller coaster of life, it is very hard. Is see it as drowning in muddy water. You can't see where you are going, which way is up or down, but you are fighting for your life and searching for the life saver. But we aren't meant to do it on our own. God created us. He never intended to leave us. He is our life saver.

Back to the cake. Isn't cake good? I love all cakes, but I have to admit, I have an extra-sweet spot for rainbow chip cake with rainbow chip frosting. I truly am a child at heart. If you have ever made a cake, which most of you surely are able to with the help of Betty Crocker, you know that it takes certain ingredients. At the very least it is cake mix, eggs, vegetable oil, and water. Besides the water, would any of these things be good on their own? Raw eggs? I do have a not-so-secret crush/obsession with Sylvester Stallone aka Rocky and HE ate raw eggs....but I don't recommend it to normal humans as a tasty treat. Vegetable oil? Besides rubbing oil on myself and sitting in the hot sun for a golden glow, I can't say I would ingest that on its own either. And dry cake mix? I was once dared to eat a spoon full of cinnamon for $20. I thought I was going to die of suffocation by cinnamon after the innocent looking powder coated my entire mouth and throat and filled my lungs. I don't recommend it. So I'd nix the dry cake mix snacking as well.

And for those of you over-achievers that bake cakes from scratch, there are plenty of other non-appetizing ingredients that go into the kind of cakes that don't require a visit from Betty Crocker.

My point is...do any of these ingredients taste good on their own? No. In fact, if you sat down to a meal of flour, vegetable oil, baking powder, and vanilla your stomach would probably close up from disgust. Each of these things are truly awful on their own. But when they are put together, in just the right amounts, at just the right times, a yummy, completely satisfying cake is created.

No matter how difficult the time is that you are going through, whether it be relationship problems, financial issues, a job that is falling apart or a job loss, depression, the loss of a loved one, or whatever hard situation you may be facing, first of all, you are not alone. And second of all, have hope that God will take all of these not fun situations and create something truly beautiful and satisfying for your life.

This message of hope truly touched me. It felt as if it were directed right at me. Obviously I wasn't the only one in the room and obviously everyone can benefit from this message, but it came to me at just the right time, when I needed to hear it most. 

Have hope my dear friends and loved ones. And eat cake.

Domestic Goddess....In Training.

The other morning, on my all too common walk to Wheatberries for breakfast with Mandy, I noticed a change.

Sidenote: Wheatberries is a delicious little bakery in downtown Moscow that serves yummy pastries, bagels, lunch items such as mini-pizzas, sandwiches, and salads. They also do catering. They are a carb-lovers dream and a dieters worst enemy. If I didn't work out regulary I'd have to ban myself...or weigh 200 lbs.

The change was the slightest of changes, but it suggested one obvious, unforgettable feeling: autumn. Fall was in the air during that morning. It was the briskness of the air, the crunch of leaves, that distinctly seperate feeling of summer from fall. And I love it.

I do truly LOVE summer, but fall is where my heart really lies. It's the most romantic season of all. And not only is it beautiful, soft, warm yet cool, and...romantic....it's the season of FOOTBALL and HUNTING. Two of my favorite pasttimes.

As I noticed this change, and talked it over with Mandy, who confirmed the feeling and echoed my excitment, I started thinking of what I will do once fall is here. Buy seasonal scented candles, wear cozy socks, curl up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket and read a book, make tea at night instead of lemonade, wear layers of clothing and cute boots, pull out my jackets from last year, buy more bronzer to accomodate for my fading summer tan, and....bake pumpkin bread.

For those of you who are not aware, pumpkin bread is my specialty. Right now it's really my only specialty, but I'm sure in time I'll discover a few more. But for now...just pumpkin bread. And it is the perfect fall-time treat. It's comforting and just tastes like fall. Once fall officially arrives I'll throw my apron on (I like how I said that like it's a normal thing) and whip up a loaf or two of my famous pumpkin bread and post a how-to guide on here, complete with pictures. Hopefully I have a camera by then.

I'm getting to my point and the title of this blog. I promise.

The other day I was hanging out with a good friend. He is someone I trust, respect, and care for. So what he says counts, unless it's bull poo, and then I tell him I think so. :) Anyway...this good friend of mine mentioned something about ironing clothes. This got my always thinking mind forming a question about women that are domestic.

Are women with domestic skills more attractive to men than women with less or no domestic skills? Aka...are we more appealing if we are domesticated or if we are still wild and free and can't wield a broom to save our lives?

I'd like to think my carefree, relaxed ways are fascinating to men at my age. But maybe they DO care about a woman thats got skills in rooms other than the bedroom, such as the kitchen. Sorry Mom, it was too good of a sentence to not use.

But how much are we supposed to know? I'd hope that the majority of females can at least sweep a Swiffer by 25. Although, I'm sure it's a sad fact that some wouldn't even know what a toilet brush was if it hit them in the face. Now that's a funny image.

But back to my original train of thought. I'll volunteer myself as an example.

Here is what I can do:
Basic cooking and baking. I claim to be horrible but really I just don't like cooking. And the reasons are because it's just me and it's so much work to cook for ONE person. And I'm horrible at grocery shopping so I'm usually starting at an empty fridge and a bunch of condiments. This makes me feel like a boy and I give up.
I can clean any room top to bottom, and I actually enjoy doing so.
Laundry. That's easy.
I can fix nearly anything in my house with either my tool set or electric drill. Or with duct tape.
I can assemble furniture and move it by myself. Determination makes up for lack of another set of hands.
Basically, I keep a clean house, keep myself from starving, keep things working, and get myself to work nearly on time every day.

Here is what I have YET to learn how to do:
Cook well or put together dinners for a family.
Know what I am doing in a grocery store besides in the wine and beer aisle. I seem to go from that area to the fresh produce and skip everything in between.
Sew. Quilt. Patch. Or anything with a needle and thread. However, I do know how to use them....I just need practice. I have two very talented Grandma's who learned, so I'm sure I'll do just fine. Someday.
Iron well. I can iron if it was going to save my life...but I find myself buying clothes that don't require ironing or constantly tell people that the "wrinkled" look is in. Thank you, Abercrombie & Fitch, for making your clothes so wrinkly and setting off a trend. That's still a trend, right? If I someday have a husband that needs shirts ironed for work he's gonna have to have a lot of patience and deal with some uneven shirt lines. Or secretly keep brand new shirts in the car and change in to them before work. It's okay...I'd be relieved he wasn't wearing my crookedly ironed shirt creases in public anyway.

So there you have it. The list of can do's and can't do yets of a 25 year old single gal. To be honest, I look forward to learning all these skills and keeping a family alive. But I still feel myself teetering on the line of young, single, and free and a domestic, apron-wearing, laundry-doing, Betty Crocker.

So what did my friend say when I asked him if it was more attractive to a man to have a woman that can do all of the above when it comes to domestic chores? He wisely said it is attractive that a woman know what she is doing in and around the house, but even more so that she is willing to learn and will learn in time.

So, all my single ladies, we are off the hook for a while. Keep doing your thing, whether you cook like a chef and could bake for a king, can iron like a June Cleaver, or are still a little bit rough around the edges when it comes to those household chores. Life is more fun when you learn as you go. We may not all be perfect at everything, but it's the trying and the learning that are important.

I know I'll never be a world class chef but I do know that someday I'll feed a family. And they'll eat what I have to feed them with a smile on their face. And if not, I'll win them over with pizza and ice cream. And a nice, clean house to live in.

Hopefully it's a big, beautiful house with a hot tub, pool, barn full of horses, a garden full of perfect vegetables that I'll know how to grow, and.....well I guess it doesn't really matter what I have on the oustide, but on the inside, that counts.

Vegas: the city that never sleeps. And neither did we.

Well folks, I did it. I went to Vegas, found my millionaire boyfriend, and tied the knot. Vegas style.

Believe me? Okay, so that didn't happen. But it could've. One thing I learned in Vegas is that it is the land of opportunity. Anything can happen in Vegas. You can win big, lose it all, meet people from all over the world, see hotels built to mimic New York, Paris, Italy, Egypt, Hollywood, act like a VIP (with tickets you scored from club promoters), see a celebrity, taste foods from all different parts of the world, get your picture taken with Johnny Depp, Michael Jackson, or Elvis...and that's not even everything! The Vegas strip is definitely a world of its own.

Not sure how to go about this post since I had planned on having pictures to guide me (all pics in this post were taken by the girls that went with me). However, my camera and my phone were lost/stolen. Somewhere between leaving a club and going the restroom at 2:30 a.m. And for a girl that doesn't mean a whole lotta time. Probably about 10 minutes from the club to the bathroom sink where I realized both of my valued possessions were gone. After much searching and about three trips to security, I gave up. Although I'm extremely disappointed to lose all of my pictures and camera, losing the phone was just plain scary. When you have an iPhone you carry a lot of personal information with you. With just a password anyone could access my bank account, facebook, or email, not to mention all of my pictures, contacts, and text messaging conversations. It leaves you feeling violated and exposed. Here is what I learned from this experience:

1. If you have an iPhone use the handy locking feature which requires a four digit password to access the phone. Even if you don't use this feature every day, it's a good idea to use while traveling.

2. Also if you have an iPhone, there is a "Find My Phone" app that you can install. In the unfortunate case that your phone is lost or stolen you can use this app to locate it, send a push notification that instructs anyone who finds it on how to return it to you, or wipe the data off the phone. Would have been nice to know about this app BEFORE my phone went missing. You can't install it once the phone is gone. For you iPhoners, download it now. It's free. And better to be safe than sorry.

3. Carry your phone and/or camera or any other important property (I.D., credit card/cash) in something that will be easy to hold on to and difficult for anything to fall out of. I had a small, black wristlet for when I went out at night. It was very easy to hold on to and perfect for walking around with, dancing with, and didn't make it too awkward to carry with anything else, such as my high heels that always came off at the end of the night. However, my handbag didn't close securely enough. The phone and camera made it a little hard to clasp, which is another theory I have on my missing electronics. They may have slipped out when I didn't fasten the bag correctly.

Those are my suggestions. But enough boring advice from me. I didn't go to Vegas to write a how-to guide. I'll start with the beginning.

Journey to Vegas via Seattle, Part One.

On Wednesday afternoon 5:00 seriously didn't come fast enough. Not only do you feel like you have a million things to do at work before leaving on vacation, but you really don't care about a single one. Of course, you have to pretend like you do care. All of your co-workers are silently hating you already for the fun you're about to have while they stay back in the office, so you have to put on a busy, hard-at-work face anyway.

As I frantically and distractedly wrote out a list of things to do for my co-workers to do in case any one of the "worst-case scenarios" actually happened and wrote a list for myself for Monday morning when I knew I would be having a hard time even remembering my name, I could only think of getting on the road and starting my vacation as soon as possible. But of course 5:00 made it's way around and we were off. But not before a trip to my place to pick up my bags. Did I mention I packed the night before while drinking wine? It was a good idea at first, but before I knew it there was more drinking and less packing. I realized this was not as good of an idea when I got to Vegas and couldn't find a few items I was so sure I had thrown in. Next time there will be no wine and packing. Riiiiiiiight.....

Mandy in the front seat. Sanji in the passenger seat. Me in the backseat. On our way to Seattle. Nothing too exciting happened. Mandy drove the first part, and I took over half-way there. I was dubbed the city driver. Even though I am the most small town/country/non-city girl out of the two of them. But, I'm a good city driver. I'm aggressive (this scares most people, I'm sure), I don't worry about getting lost (aka don't panic), and I am pretty good with directions.

We arrived at our desination in Seatlle, which was Mandy's brothers new home in West Seattle. His fiancee currenlty lives there. They are getting married in August. Thanks for the roof over our heads, bed, and shower, Matt and Annalee!

Journey to Vegas via Seattle, Part Two.

After getting up at 5:30 a.m. to get ready, the three of us left with Matt on the bus for downtown Seattle. Matt works downtown and it was an easy way for us to get on the light rail that would take us to the airport. We looked quite out of place walking around in cloudy and cold Seattle in shorts, flip flops, and bright colors with our suitcases rolling behind us. We obviously looked like we were leaving for somewhere warmer or we had mistaken a flight to Mexico for Seattle.

We had our pick of seats on the bus. Matt and Mandy sat together. Sanji and I sat facing each other but each with one seat next to each other. Mistake. I do like to think I can handle just about anything but there are some things I'm just not used to. For example, a man with his hand stuck in his pocket like he is holding some sort of scary object that just has to choose the seat next to me. Sometimes the small town girl in me just comes out. I say something that gives it away or my face says it all. I tried to keep my cool. But when he started talking to us, or at us, I should say since we didn't understand a single word, I got a little freaked out. Although I kept a pageant queen smile plastered on my face and tried talking to Sanji and the nice, normal, young man sitting next to her, of COURSE she would get the normal one, I was praying in my head that this would not be the end of me and that I would at least make it to Vegas. That whatever he was holding in his pocket was anything but a weapon. Maybe a can of pop, a paper airplane, a squirt gun, some candy, ANYTHING. Maybe if he wasn't speaking to us in a different language, wasn't yelling and pointing at us and to the ground and then the sky it wouldn't have been a big deal. Luckily I made it. My prayers were asnwered. The bus stopped, he went one way and we went the other.

Even with Vegas drawing the most interesting people from all over the world, this was our one run-in with someone as crazy as he was. Halle-freakin-lujah.

On the plane for Vegas. All bright-eyed and ready.

Vegas. Bright lights. 24 hours a day.

We landed in hot, sunny Vegas around noon on Thursday. After picking up our bags we found a shuttle to take us to our hotel, the Excalibur. For those of you that are not familiar with Vegas, or the strip, the Excalibur is on the strip. It's at the beginning of the strip. It's also very cheasy looking. I basically lived in a hotel and casino that looked like a castle. A little less Disney and not so realistic, but hey, it did the job. We were barely in the room anyway. And for us travelers who don't make enough to spend a lot of money, it was perfect.

First thing we did was go for a drink. Of course. When in Vegas, do what everyone else does. Right? There are the ginormous Margarita drinks you can buy down on the strip. Oh, and the great thing about Vegas? You can drink ANYWHERE. Walking down the street, in and out of stores and hotels. It's great. So you will see people carrying around these large plastic drinking cups. We looked everywhere for the cheapest ones, until we found one for $21. It was at this outdoor bar called La Casa something (sorry, didn't think to remember the whole name). But if you brought it back for a refill it was only $16. You'll think I'm crazy until you go to Vegas and see how expensive everything is.

There is plenty to do in Vegas. My goal was to spend as little money as possible. Since there is plenty to see that is quite easy if you're up for walking around and just seeing the sights. I'd show you the pictures but my camera decided to make Vegas it's permanent home. I am extremely upset that I don't have the picture of me with a Johnny Depp look-a-like. He really did look just like Mr. Depp. Well, maybe if you closed one eye and squinted at the camera. But it was still my favorite picture.

Vegas Nightlife. It's a gamble. On whether or not you make it home with your heels on your feet or in your hands, of course.

All that walking during the day and you think I'd realize that heels would be an even worse idea. But when in Vegas, it's not my local bar where I can wear flip flops, a tee shirt, and shorts and do just fine. In Vegas you are just one of hundreds of young women in tall heels and short dresses. So, while I don't HAVE to dress the part, I gotta admit it was kind of fun. When you live in a small town such as Pullman you don't have a lot of opportunities to get all dolled up and go clubbing. We took full advantage. And luckily, after one night of a much too painful walk home and blisters on top of blisters from our heels we learned to pack flip flops. If you have someone in your group that is taking a larger bag you can pack them all in and pull them out for the way home. No one likes a hobbling, whining, girl at 4am. Especially her friends.

The funnest part of going out in Vegas? Nobody knows anybody and everyone is ready to meet and mingle. I met so many people from all over the country and the world. We made friends with some nice Australian guys the second night that got us in to the VIP at club Tao our last night in Vegas. Even in Vegas it helps to know someone. And they were fun, great guys to know.

We hit Coyote Ugly, Bond at the Cosmopolitan, Caramel lounge and The Bank at the Bellagio, Koi at Planet Hollywood, Tao at the Venetian, and the Chandelier bar at the Cosmopolitan. Not bad for three nights of Vegas. The thing about Vegas is the bars stay open until at least 4 a.m. so thats about the time you start heading home. I figured out that I probably got around 10 hours of sleep from Thursday to Sunday. But it was worth it. I've always been a night owl anyway.

Goodbye Vegas. Hello reality.

Our flight was scheduled for 7 a.m. Sunday morning. Since we didn't want to waste our last night in Vegas we packed before we left the hotel. We got back at 3:45 a.m. to change and grab our bags, got on the shuttle at 4:15 a.m., and was on the plane before takeoff at seven. Sitting in a row with seats that did not recline made it difficult for getting any sleep. We landed in Seattle after 9 a.m. and on barely any sleep hopped in the car for a long and sleepy drive back to Pullman.

I took the first leg of the journey. On watered down coffee I made my way across the state until my part was done. Then Mandy took over. I felt that we were in safe hands since she at least got to nap the first part of the journey. I'm not sure how safe we were on the first part, but as always, I got us there without a scratch.

I was in bed by 7 p.m. Sunday night after getting a new phone and letting my parents know I was home safe. I swear I could hear their sigh of relief from here.

Who goes to work the morning after getting home from Vegas? This crazy girl. It felt weird to get up and not go straight to the pool, to wear work clothes, and to drive myself instead of walk for miles down the hot Vegas strip where I had learned how to ignore people handing out stripper cards. Yes folks, there's really just no other way to say it. I was exhausted and disoriented at work on Monday morning. And I actually wanted to go back. My Vegas life had become normal.

Now I'm back to Erica's actual life normal. Where I hit snooze one too many times before getting up for work, have my morning coffee before my mind starts working, am fairly alert most of the time at work and chat up my coworkers when I'm not, go to the gym, see my friends, keep in touch with family. I'll probably go to the My Office bar this Friday with Jamie. And I'll more than likely be at the river this weekend. Normal life may not be as exciting as Vegas life but I love it and all the people in it.

One thing is for sure, though: Vegas, I'll be back.

Headin' to the Big City: Sin City

Vegas, here I come.

I got a text from Mandy, mid-May. It simply said: Hey, wanna go to Vegas for my birthday?

My answer was something like this: OMG! YES! ABSOLUTELY! WHEN? LET'S GO!!!!!!!

Or maybe that's an exaggeration but it does accurately describe my excitement for going to Vegas. You see, I like to have fun. No wait, I really like to have a lot of fun. I love to be social and I love to get away from work. So I signed up on the spot for a trip to Vegas in mid-July. Now it's finally here. We leave tomorrow after work for Seattle where we fly out of on Thursday morning.

Am I ready? Actually I'm still a little tired and worn out from last weekend. Am I packed? Nope, still need to do laundry too. Am I set to miss two days of work this week? Not quite yet, but working on it. It's a little stressful. But am I excited and ready to get out of town for a few days? Absolutely.

I haven't been on a plane in quite a while. The last time was when a friend and I spent our college spring break in New Orleans gutting houses for families after Hurricane Katrina. That was during the spring of 2006. Prior to that I was seventeen when I flew to Hawaii by myself to play in a volleyball tournament with girls from across the country. And the time before that, which was my first plane ride, was with my family on a trip to Disneyland.

So I haven't had much plane-riding experience and many things have changed since my last flying excursion. But I'm not worried. What I am worried about it is spending too much money. Have I mentioned I loved to shop? Well if not it's a slightly well known fact that I have a lot of clothes and shoes and I am hungry for more. Although I do my best in giving to a good cause with some of my old or lesser-worn clothing...ask my friends. I have clothed so many of my friends over the years that I ought to start running a business out of my closet.

But back to the spending concern. The truth is, I have been to Vegas before. After that trip to Hawaii I previously mentioned, my parents picked me up at the airport in L.A. and we drove to Vegas to visit family over the 4th of July. I was seventeen, in Vegas with my parents and little brother. Although I absolutely loved the time spent with my family, including my aunt and uncle, I knew I wanted to come back someday when I was old enough to really enjoy Vegas. But let me just say this, as a small town seventeen year old girl with my parents practically controlling my wallet, I had the urge to shop and spend all day. I couldn't get enough. So now, at 25 without my parents with me and a whole wad of cash....how will I control myself?

How about rent and bills and credit card payments that will be waiting for me when I get back? Oh and the gas money that I burn through every day driving back and forth to work. Or the money I need to spend on groceries when I get back? Oh yeah, that's how I'll control my spending. The friendly little reminders waiting for me back home that annoyingly reinforce the fact that my bank account is not overflowing with cash. And neither is the millionaire boyfriend that I have yet to meet.

So here's my plan: spend as little as possible while doing as much as possible during my three-ish days in Vegas and have something to blog about when I get back. I did say I'd take you with me wherever I go. I'll take lots of pictures and have lots to say about my trek to sin city and back. Hopefully without too much sin and that I do make it back.

This girl doesn't need her own version of "The Hangover". That's for sure. But what I do need is a good vacation. Aka: some time spent by a pool with a Margarita in my hand.

Someday I plan to go back to Vegas when I don't have to stick to a budget. Maybe it'll be when I meet my millionaire boyfriend. Although I know that's not true. This simple, country girl will always prefer dirt to diamonds. Well, most of the time anyway.

Like I said. Vegas, here I come!

The Storm Cellar: My Low Budget/No Budget Fix

If you're like me: 25, working non stop at a job that barely pays the bills, and a spending habit that rivals that of an Orange County housewife, you gotta work a little harder to find a balance. A balance between spending and saving and hopefully the ability to do more than just get by. It's a hard lesson to learn. Believe me. And if you don't believe me, ask my parents.

So where do I go when I'm low on the dough but still need a shopping fix? Or really, really actually need something different to wear other than that skirt I've paired five different shirts with over the last two weeks.

The Storm Cellar.

It's a fairly new addition to Moscow's downtown. The Storm Cellar is a secondhand clothing store, without the secondhand feel. Their clothing is always in such great condition that it doesn't feel like someone wore it before you. And chances are, no one did. I've seen pieces with the original tags still on them. You can also make some money by giving your clothes for consignment. A bonus for those like me that need all the money they can get. So I can turn around and spend it, right?



You can get anything from pure vintage to off the rack. And everything in between. They have mens and womens clothing, shoes, accessories, and some home decor. And the best part...everything is in great condition and at resonable (aka low) prices.

Shoes. Shoes that even my size 10 feet can fit in to. Yes, I may not be that tall but I do have big feet. Apparently my feet had high hopes for my height, which stopped at five-five-and-a-half. When I buy jeans in a "long" they are too long, but regulars are too short. And they never have the cute shoes in my size. It's a rough life. 

And if shoe's aren't enough check out their hat wall...

Or their selection of handbags and purses...

Oh and there are belts...

Plenty of tops to choose from...

And they even have cowboy boots. A country girls dream...boots that don't cost as much as my rent.

As many times as I've been to the Storm Cellar, and there have been plenty, lemme tell ya, I rarely see the same stuff over and over again. Which is good. Why is that good? Because people are shopping there enough to keep the flow of merchandise going. Which means if you haven't been there yet you are late on the bandwagon and need to hurry up and hop on it! It also means you are missing out on the amazing deals you can get at the Storm Cellar. Ever seen a I-just-have-to-have-it-right-now-and-wear-it-out-tonight top and grimaced at the price tag? Thinking about how you can skip groceries for the week and create a new recipe of top ramen, stewed tomatos, mustard, and green beans...becasue that's all you have left in your kitchen, just to afford the afforementioned piece of clothing? Or is that just me. Anyway...without mentally calculating how much your desired item will set you back, you can have it and probably a few more fabulous finds for LESS than what you would have spent somewhere else. Need I say more?

And if you ever want to totally glam it up. And possibly bring back an old fashion trend....

Don't worry ladies, this hot little outfit is still available (at least it was last time I was there, no promises!) and it just waiting for a night out on the town.

And seriously....speaking of a night out on the town, be sure to check out the dresses at the Storm Cellar first. I found the perfect LBD (little black dress) for such an occassion.

Need shoes to go with that LBD? Maybe some LBS (little black shoes) such as these. Or BBS (big black shoes) in my case.



Mandy, my co-worker/bestie/side-kick, is always with me when I am browsing the racks at the Storm Cellar. She's got the same condition I do. Not enough money to support such a healthy spending habit. And let me tell you, this amazing young lady has found some killer deals at the Storm Cellar. Check out what she found on our latest shopping spree. A dress for her brother's upcoming wedding and a hot pink summer dress she looks like a knock-out in.

What girl or guy can turn down such great duds at such great deals? And even though I didn't get too many pics of the menswear...believe me there IS mens clothing! Or you could just do yourself a favor and check it out for yourself.

The Storm Cellar is located in downtown Moscow, Idaho on Main street. Across from La Casa Lopez and the Breakfast Club. Hours are Tuesday through Saturday, 10am to 6pm. You can find them and like them on facebook to learn more and get updates.

Check of the Storm Cellar next time you are in Moscow. If you need a shopping partner...really, do you need to even ask? I'm in.



Dreamin' With My Eyes Wide Open

Don't tell my boss...but I'm blogging while at work. And if you are my boss and you happen to be reading this, I apologize for sitting quietly at my desk, appearing to be writing an email, and using company property for my own self-indulgence.

But I can't help it.

I have a million and one thoughts running through my head and I thought no better way than to get them out than to write about them. It was either that or go chat up my bff who conveniently works at the front desk. But then we'd be out two employees...and I'm not that selfish.

Do you ever wonder what happens to all those big dreams you had as a kid? Of course not all of them make it past your childhood, merely for the sake that they are impossible, ridiculous ideas thought up by a seven year old brain. For example. When I was a kid I wanted to be black. Yes, this small town country girl wanted to be black. Why? Because I wanted to be good at basketball and dancing. I do not mean that as a racist or offensive comment AT ALL. And if anyone is offended for my seven year old self noticing that most of the best basketball players (aka Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, etc) and all the best dancers in music videos (why I knew that at such a young age and at a time when we didn't have cable, I don't know) were black. It's a compliment, don't look too much more in to it than that.

So anyway...besides my impossible hopes of becoming the best NBA player or music video dancer, what happened to those other dreams of mine? I remember wanting to move to Texas, Hawaii, California...anywhere other than what I had always known. I wanted to be a physical therapist, a sports broadcaster, an actress, a writer, I wanted to play college sports, I wanted to be married by 22 and have kids by 24. YIKES. But of course, when you're nine years old, 22 seems pretty old.

Even more recently, I wanted to be an event coordinator. I tried that and did enjoy it but it just didn't work out. Which is okay. I've realized some other dreams along the way. Yes, I still want to be married and have a family, but since we can't go back in time I'll have to settle with a slightly older age than 22. Thank God...it scares me to think of who I'd have married when I was 22.

And then there are my "if I had no limits" dreams....I want to be a bounty hunter (all thanks to Dog The Bounty Hunter, of course), I want to be a detective, I want to be a famous country singer (well that's impossible...have you heard me sing? No, because I don't do it in front of people), I want to travel the world, I want to be wild and free without anything to tie me down. And that's how I'm feeling today.

I feel tied down. I feel heavy in this place. I feel like I have too much to be responsible for but really only myself to worry about. Even my dog doesn't depend on me anymore. Thanks Mom and Dad. I know she will forever live with you, be spoiled by you, and be considered your first "grandchild". But I promise human grandchildren for you in the future.

So today I want to be a gypsy. Maybe it's because I have Miranda Lambert's "Airstream Song" stuck in my head...."Sometimes I wish I lived in an Airstream...Homemade curtains, lived just like a gypsy...Break a heart, roll out of town...‘Cause gypsies never get tied down......Unbridled or tethered and tied...The safety of the fence or the danger of the ride...I’ll always be unsatisfied"

Those are my favorite words of that song. As I sit at my desk, looking out my window at the people and cars, buildings and trees, I want to be out there. And I don't mean Jackson street in Moscow, ID. I want to be out THERE...finding new dreams and maybe even fulfilling a few old ones.

But even as I sit here and think about the thrill I would get out of being wild and free, I will always, in some way, be tied to something. I have to have a job. Without a job I have no money, without money I have nowhere to live, without a place to live I become a bum. I don't think I'd do "bum" very well. I have to many clothes and shoes.

And I have my family. A family that I am very close to and don't ever get too far away from. Including my dog. Well I'd probably steal her back if I was to go traipsing all across the country. She'd be a good travel partner.

And I have friends. Although I'd make more friends on this hypothetical journey of mine, I would miss the friends I have here and be dragged back for a dozen and a half weddings, babies, birthdays, and whatever else they have in store for me.

Maybe my boots aren't hittin' the dusty journey-across-the-continent trail just yet but they are finding their way around familiar and unfamiliar places just fine here in Pullman. And wherever else I can get to. And I guess that's good enough for right now. And if it isn't, I'll have eight kids and turn them in to a traveling band to fulfill my dreams of singing and traveling and being famous. Maybe we'll get our own reality show.

Now that's a new dream to have.