Treat Yo' Self Day

Sal and I have accidentally been collecting gift cards for a few years now. Some were half used, some were for places we just haven't managed to get to, some were misplaced when we sold our old car and got our kitchen remodeled. 

It's been an incredibly stressful few months. Work has been insane for both of us. Our weekends are full and spilling into our weekdays. (I will only see Sal one weeknight this week) Living full throttle doesn't exactly give you much time to deal with unexpected items like health or losing a cat. 

We decided to take a day off work to do a "Treat Yo' Self" day. 

Crash, the Beginning "Story"

We lost Crash last weekend. It wasn't completely unexpected, but it doesn't make it less sad. 

Crash was a weird one. Whereas Slider was always up in everyone's face and Newbie was such a soft-spoken, cuddler, Crash watched from the 2nd floor landing like Batman. People were aware of Crash and in some cases made it their mission to make Crash like them, but she wasn't underfoot or laying in the middle of the room while we hung out. She didn't want to be the center of attention.

Crash stayed upstairs, away from people. She had a few favorites like my college roommates and my mother. But I don't think Crash has made a friend in damn near 15 years at this point. 

She was a sewer cat that got separated from her litter. One of my roommates girlfriends found her. And Sal and I decided to adopt her.

Now, Sal and I were in absolutely no place to be adopting an animal. We knew we were going to get married, but we also were in housing that didn't allow animals, about to move across the country, and I didn't have a job yet. 

But we were dumb, young, and invincible, so why not take a cat in?

Equating Pictures to Memories

Sal and I are that weird elder millennial generation. We knew the before times, but ultimately grew up with modern equivalents of technology. 

We played outside without cell phones or GPS. We would disappear for hours at a time and our parents just assumed we'd be back in time for dinner. 

But the moment we got a car, we were handed a cell phone, never to truly be off grid again. For the most part, technology has been a huge benefit. Not needing to memorize your route and bust a giant atlas out on the hood of your car when you're lost is a blessing. 

Having the internet in your pocket anytime is mostly a benefit. Can't count how many times I've been at a bar trying to come up with an actors name. Popping open IMDB gets the answer immediately. The downside to that is my memory is crap because I don't actually have to retain information. 

But today I want to talk about one of the most prolific changes, photography. 

Viva Las Vegas Strikes Back

That's right folks, we've now been to Vegas twice in less than a year. And I gotta say, I can't wait to go back again. 

This time we went with friends. I wasn't sure how much I was going to like being there with others. There's so much I want to do in Vegas that I was feeling sort of selfish and not really wanting to compromise going into the trip (Mr. Rogers would be disappointed in me), but I just kept telling myself that I will go back again to see a Blues game eventually. 

Last time we stayed in old Vegas off Fremont street, this time we stayed on the main strip in the Sahara. 

The Sahara might be the most perfect hotel in Vegas for me. 

It's on the very north side of the strip, so if I need a break from what is essentially a giant mall with slot machines, I can get there easily. 

It also doesn't get a lot of spillover from the "normies" staying at the more southern hotels. (Normies is the term I'll use for bachelor parties, boys night out, bachelorette parties, sun burned dads drinking Mic Ultra, and sun burned mom's pulling the slot handle) 

The Sahara also has access to the city's tram system, which we heard complaints about, but it served us very well. We saved probably $80 in Lyfts using it. 

Anthony Bourdain Day 2024

Anthony Bourdain was a complicated person. He had many demons. Could tear his friends to pieces with sharp and targeted words. He battled depression most of his life. He had a severe inadequacy complex, never thinking he was good enough for any of his significant others or daughter. 

But Anthony Bourdain was the great empathizer. He had the ability to disarm anyone, make them feel safe, yet vulnerable, all around a table with food. He knew how to put into words the human experience. He never looked down, always straight ahead. (Unless your name happened to be Henry Kissinger, then he looked down on you and spit in your general direction)

It's one of those weird relationships where we've never met Anthony in person, but he meant a lot to Sal and I. Part of our travel-lust was born out of watching Anthony bravely share a meal in places deemed "too dangerous" for the average tourist. We saw him go to places like Vegas, but instead of spending all of his time wandering the Sahara, he took you to Atomic Liquor off the strip. He was always more interested in the people that could take him to the local places, than going to restaurants owned by celebrity chefs. 

The Albums that Bring You Back

This year is a huge nostalgia year when it comes to concerts. Almost every band I listened to in high-school are on tour and playing classic albums front to back: Sum 41, Green Day, Taking Back Sunday, The Get Up Kids. 

Wednesday, Sal and I (and about 8 friends and most of the people I went to high-school with) went to see the Death Cab For Cutie and Postal Service touring on the 20 year anniversary of the albums I listened to in college. (God, time is marching too quickly forward)

Ben Gibbard is the commonality between the bands, because he is the lead singer for both. He's been in Death Cab since like 1997 and The Postal Service since like 2001.

My Neighbors Marty and Vicki

I've been having a lot of thoughts and dreams about my childhood neighbors Marty and Vicki lately. 

Maybe it's spring knocking on the window. Marty had an incredible garden. Spring time was busy time. Getting things planted. He'd empty his huge compost bin out and mixed it with mulch and dirt. 

Vicki would walk the garden, hands clasped daintily behind her back. 

My memories of looking into Marty's yard are almost always of the spring. It's a nice temperature, probably mid-April. Warm enough for shorts, the sun shining bright, but still cool enough to not overheat.