I’m freaking out about a few deadlines and trying to work solid without taking any breaks, which of course, leads me to taking a blog break.
For this reason, you get to see a photo of the Hoover Dam bypass bridge that I took about three weeks ago. I believe that the gap between the two sides of the bridge is much smaller now.
While it’s an inconvenience to drive over the Hoover Dam when traveling from Phoenix to Vegas, I think I’ll miss the charm of it when the bridge is finished.
*A gazillion happy calories*
As you may have noticed, Vegas is a culinary treasure trove and/or feeding trough depending on your budget and tackiness tolerance. This is very good for me because I love the pleasure of eating. I don’t gamble, so food is the sin I claim in Sin City. Nonetheless, there are a few things money CAN”T buy in Vegas, and one of them is Chick-Fil-A. Perhaps it’s because the company is Christian and the whole being closed on Sunday thing didn’t vibe well with a modern-day Sodom & Gomorra. Or perhaps they refused to anchor a casino food court on moral grounds. Whatever it is, Las Vegas is missing out. So one of the many things I did in Texas was indulge in a little pseudo-healthy fried chicken goodness. And crispy, happy waffle fries. And Polynesian Sauce. The best.
Read all about the joys of playing the booze guitar in the latest installation of my bar column for the Las Vegas Weekly. Also, could somebody in Vegas please pick up an extra copy of the Weekly for me as I am still in Texas. Thanks!
I’m in Texas trying to stuff my heritage, family, and friends from high school and college–oh and a few deadlines, too–into a two-week trip. It’s been tight. But tonight, I went with my family to “Light Up Arlington!” at the Levitt Pavilion (I’m so so so happy this has been built in my hometown). It’s my hometown’s Fourth of July Celebration one day early. And what a celebration it was:
6pm: Arlington Community Band (adults reliving their glory days of high school band)
7:30 pm: The Quebe Sisters Band (Three amazing fiddler-sisters with harmonizing my grandmother and I both enjoyed)
9:15 pm: Fastball (The band I liked in high school sounds like a softer version of Brian Jonestown Massacre)
9:45 pm: Fireworks (Go America!)
Living in the desert tundra of Las Vegas, the only way I can tell the passing of seasons is by the theme of the conservatory garden in the Bellagio. This spring it was “Gardens of the World.” I’m not sure what part of the world the rose snail is native to.
Now that I’m in Texas for vacation, I can see real gardens outside. It feels nice.
Summer Heat in Vegas
I’m cheating. This is a photo from last summer. Further more, I didn’t even take this photo. So much for the grand showcase of my photography. But when it’s hot as hell, what’s a small little sin such as fibbing and plagiarism? Oddly enough, I’ve escaped the heat for two weeks by going home to Texas. Humidity, anyone?