traveling strangers.

It should come as a shock to no one [even if you don't know me in the 3D experience] that I absolutely love to travel. This morning I am embarking on a journey for my 3rd time to the Sundance Film Festival which has turned into my favorite winter get-a-way. Film. Snow. Music. Cozy bars & lounges. Stories being told in the theater and in the freezing lines awaiting to become a part of a film story, while writing your own. it is all fantastic. If there ever was an element for me, this is it.

I not-so-happily got out of bed at 3:30am to make travel day happen, but my morning grumps were over by the time I found my seat in 9A. I usually refrain from talking to people on planes in fear of being poisoned by their halitosis or long monologues of their career and what number business trip this is for them this year. However, there had been some talk by the airport workers of a reroute to Redmond, OR if it was too foggy to land in Spokane. We had some laughs about how little sense that made and the pilot confirmed minutes later that those airport workers were silly and we would obviously just come back to Seattle.

Spurred by this, the short-haired brunette lady in 9B, began to talk about her annoyance with an entitled "little blonde lady with too much money who was yelling at a TSA agent" as she hated the process. And technology. Then apparently she pulled out her iPhone.

She made me laugh and she appeared to be an advocate for good dental hygiene and she didn't have a laptop lying across her lap, so I assumed we were safe.

For our short jaunt from Western to Eastern Washington, we talked about our home of Seattle, her ill-suited 25 year marriage and how that led her to living in a MIL unit with her lesbian friends that are marrying this summer, their twin sons, and her battle with cancer. "At least I got some awesome wigs out of it!" She is cancer free now and I think that's awesome.

As we parted ways she told me what I had been thinking the whole time. "You know, I usually avoid talking to people on planes and usually just read whatever is on this," she said as she held up her Kindle. I looked down at my lap where my book was waiting to do the very same thing. "I really enjoyed talking to you today and I hope you have an amazing trip to Sundance and whatever other adventures you find yourself on." I told her I hope she makes it to Carnival in Brazil next year with her girlfriends.

I walked through the Spokane terminal and browsed through some titles of books I had no intention of buying and instead invested in my hydration, with a water. My clerk, a 58ish year old man asked to see my ID in compliance with my written request on my debit card. "What a great picture. But it doesn't do justice to the woman standing in front of me." Let me revisit the time I woke up and how awesome an unexpected comment like that can make a person feel while traveling. I black-girl-blushed by the sweet grandpa comment and told him how kind he was to have said that.

I hope you find yourself in your element on a fun adventure in the near future. And I hope you find some strangers that aren't egomaniacs and attend to their dental health.

The One in Barbados

Ever since I saw the episode of ‘Friends’ appropriately titled, “The One in Barbados,” I’ve always wanted to go. Even though they never really were on location in Barbados and spent their entire trip indoors due to the rainy season, it just sounded like such an obscure and unlikely land that many people didn’t get to travel to, but lusted after. Lucky for me, my mom was one of the people that decided to go (relocate there) and in turn, gave me a reason to travel to this place.

As fate would have it, the first day we were here, it stormed. So far, my trip was identical as my beloved ‘Friends’ episode. My friend & travel pal Hether had been keeping a keen eye on 24-hour weather and was convinced that our entire trip would be wet. After all, it is the beginning of hurricane season. Being from the Pacific Northwest, I’ve come to ignore any weather predictions as the weather is like a woman. Unpredictable. She may feel a certain way one moment, then change her mind the next. It is called Mother Nature, yes?

It did sporadically rain on our trip, but the rain is so refreshing here because it is warm water and the air is incredibly humid. It’s comparable to being in a sauna (which may not sound appealing, but trust) and your skin feels fantastic. And, if you can't take it, the pool is 20 feet outside your door.

In my two week journey of Barbados I was lucky enough to dip my toes in the Caribbean and Atlantic waters, dance & eat with the locals at their annual weekend celebration at Oistin’s Fish Fry, experiment with driving and getting lost all while operating on the wrong side of the road, walk the streets in St. Lawrence Gap and pop into a reggae bar/80’s bar/Calypso bar, eat fresh seafood which included “dolphin” (actual fish=Mahi-Mahi), see the amazing blowholes on the North coast, and take in one of the best views of Barbados from Cherry Hill.

[Speightstown. West Coast]

The Bajan people are one of the friendliest collective groups of people I’ve ever come into contact with. Whether while driving or dining, the locals appreciate their tourists and recognize that if it wasn’t for us coming in to peer into their lifestyle, their country would not prosper. This seems logical right? You give me income, therefore, I respect you. However, I have been to many a cities where even if you are bringing in the bread, the locals loathe you and have no interest in your presence (I’m looking at you NYC & Paris). Our tour guide reiterated this and expressed his deep appreciation for our travels to his home and told us to come back and bring our friends. So I’m telling you friends, you should go.

My last full day of vacation happened to be Independence Day. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, I woke up with the battle cry “The British are Coming! The British are Coming!” in my head. [Quick Sarah Palin, who said these words??]

It was a bit odd to spend the 4^th of July in a British territory. No fireworks, no Old Glory waving in the wind (except at the local casino), no passing by underdressed women in makeshift flag shirts celebrating their "American spirit" and apparently their freedom to be half-naked. I didn't eat a hot dog or apple pie or have a block party with the neighbors. In fact, I had only met about five other Americans in the two weeks I spent here.

We spent our Fourth of July inches from the Caribbean eating Tapas at a bar called, wait for it, ‘Tapas,’ showing our love for our homeland in the form of red and blue cocktails and in festive attire and appreciating the spectacular view. Compromises.

I'm about to board a plane and head back to the great United States. I still awe at the fact that I can wake up somewhere between the Caribbean Sea and Atlantic Ocean and find my feet firmly on the Pacific coast come dusk in the place where I can appreciate my bed, unquestionable ground beef, and the fresh air of the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes spending a little time in a different place can give you a newfound appreciation for the one you go home to.

Cheers Barbados. You've been nothing but lovely.

SEA > MIA > BGI

In theory, I love airports. I love airports because when I find myself in one, I am usually heading out into the world.

In reality, most airports disgust me. Their hard cold linoleum or concrete floors with infected children carrying millions of germs, wiping their snotty noses then touching the people mover rail that I will inevitably touch 10 minutes later.

It’s just a cess pool for bacteria.

Except PDX. It’s carpeted and clean. And I like to think of Oregonians as being clean individuals. [Although a trip to Hawthorne or Old Town would prove that the unwashed lurk here as well.]

I did not receive the warm fuzzy feelings I usually do at PDX walking into Sea-Tac. No Turquoise carpet; no large skylighted windows letting in the sun under its thick cloud cover. It just seemed stale with its concrete floors.

I knew my trip would be interesting when I fell into line at the Alaska ticket counter behind a woman who exhibited some very questionable behavior. She scratched her nails underneath her neck, her arms, and her hat. She wore a mysterious wrap over her wrist area which I refuse to believe was for arthritis and was probably concealing track marks.

A confused clerk answered Jitter’s questions while a security guard looked on. Apparently he shared my similar intuition and I guess has the authority to approach individuals who look like they are undergoing crack withdrawals. As I walked by them, I heard Jitters tell the security guard that she was suffering from asthma and hadn’t taken her meds.

For the record, she was breathing fine. And correct me if I’m wrong, but itching is not a side effect if you forget your inhaler. I think it’s more along the lines of wheezing and your breathing subsiding.

With Jitters out of the way and with the great line luck I was having, a very large family (in members, not in weight) had just beat me to the security line. They seemed to be saying goodbye, but all members of the family entered the line. One of the daughters of the clan asked if I would take a picture. I do. We move another 20 feet and I’m preparing for the usual security rundown. My passport is in my mouth, quart size bag full of liquids in my right hand, my purse is slung over my shoulder as I dig into it with my free hand to find my ticket when a voice asks me, “will you take another picture?”

Really? This isn’t Disneyland and it would appear that I am busy.

I don't say anything, take the smart phone, and snap another picture. This time, I didn't bother to give them a countdown.

It isn’t until about 2 minutes later that I realize they are saying goodbye to their dad. They have gifted him a homemade fun-size candy bar necklace that he is now wearing in public to show that he really does love his kids. It was probably for Father’s Day. He is wearing sunglasses to hide his tears from his 4 children but the telltale mouth quiver gives him away.

I want to offer to take another picture.

I make it through security and am awaiting my bags on the other side of the X-Ray. I see my first container come into view that holds my laptop and as I go to reach for it, a man throws his tattered Van’s shoe on top of it.

Did you really just throw your shoe on my MacBookPro?

I turn to find the owner of the tired shoe standing beside me. He looks up at me, realizing that he has no laptop and there was no reason for him to throw his shoe into any container post-X-ray screening. He feigns any understanding for the English language and giggles at me upon seeing his mistake. This is not an appropriate response for throwing your shoe on my laptop, buddy.

I post up in the Alaska lounge (brewery, not airline) to await my friend Hether's arrival from Portland. While sitting in the restaurant, I see two very familiar, although burnt faces, walking down the terminal. It’s the best friend and her fiancée and shortly after, her sis and her boyfriend. This sighting elates me as seeing anyone in an airport is exciting. They leave shortly after and almost without a lull, I hear Hether shout "You are literally right here!" Apparently her gate was closer than she had thought and this pleases her greatly.

She is anything but subtle.

And we're off. Next stop Miami.

The Gateway.

I feel like a cliche.

According to me, and debatable by others, 27 is officially the gateway age to your late twenties. "Gateways" are never good. Marijuana is the gateway drug and apparently if you smoke that, before you know it, you'll find yourself in a trailer cooking meth wondering what happened to your bicuspids and why your face has potholes in it.

Needless to say, I've always been told to stay away from gateways. Apparently, time and I have a little dilemma on our hands.

[I've never been here, but it is the gateway of the west. Maybe the exception?]

I've never had a birthday before where I was thinking, wow, 30 is in your very real future. Not that 30 is that old (this statement is simply made out of courtesy to my 30+ friends; 30 is indeed "old" to the twenty-something). But luckily, when I reach 30, I'll think that they are my best years. And the same for 40. And apparently 50. We progressively either get better at life or we say life gets better in order to cope with our mortality.

Not sure if the chicken or the egg comes first here. I'll get back to you in 3 years.

So what does this non-mainstream milestone mean? I'm not sure.

Last year on the eve of my twenty-sixth, I got inked. This was something I contemplated over for a long while as it'd be on my body, well, forever. What could I possibly want on me FOR-EV-ER? Most people don't know and do it anyway only to be reminded on their 70th birthday when they're married to Lucy that they love Mary, thanks to the heart with her name inked on it on their not-so-raging bicep. Think twice about names, folks. Unless it's your own or kin you can't divorce.

Instead of permanently burning my skin with someone's name, my sign (apparently these change too?), or chinese symbol for "peace," I decided to get a reminder.

There's only one thing I feel really strongly about and that is simply, to do everything.

Going to the places that fascinate me, eating the food that makes my mouth water and doing it all with the fantastic people I am lucky enough to have as a part of my story. So I appropriately tattooed the phrase "Experience the World" on my leg/ankle region. In Greek. Because Greece kind of changed my life. (Yes, I've been there and this cannot and shall not be compared to the Chinese symbol comment I previously made).

So to get me out of my twenties-are-going-by-incredibly-too-fast-funk, I decided to recap the year and see what I did. Did I experience the world this last year?

I did Cabo. Vegas round 6? Road tripped to Crater Lake on a whim. Participated in Sundance the sequel. Annual Newport Seafood & Wine Fest. Then I relocated to Seattle.

As long as I can look down on every passing birthday and know that I indeed have not become b-o-r-i-n-g and that I haven't fallen out of love with life, I guess I'm okay and 30 isn't so scary.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow I leave for Barbados to see my mom.

The needle has been found.

The most amazing thing happened to me today.

I rummaged through the haystack and it wasn't as easy to find as the obvious 1960's needle that pokes through Seattle's skyline. Apparently you can't type "fabulous apartment in my price range and in an ideal location" into your GPS system to lead you to "home." And funny enough, there is no yellow brick road to take you to Oz in the Emerald City.

But I found it anyway without Liza (my GPS voice) or Dorothy.

I found a place to live.

About 5 weeks and 1 day ago, I made a decision to leave my beautiful hometown Portlandia for another city. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed Portlandia’s company; the times we’ve had together are innumerable and priceless. It’s just that I want to see what else is out there. It’s not you, it’s me. I promise.

[Note: This sign now reads "Portland Oregon" but I have sentimental value with the old way. After all, this reads true for me. Minus the "Old Town."]

This move wasn’t “planned” per se, but the bed bug of moving has been biting me for the last five years ever since I graduated undergrad. And boy is s/he a bitch. Maybe that’s the culprit of my insomnia.

I started looking for jobs elsewhere and a Master’s program fell into my lap. Not to be one to say no to free schooling, I took it.

Two years later, thesis written and defended, I searched nationally as well as locally and was offered a job in a private business in Oregon. Not to be one to say no to good money and benefits in a failing economy, I took it.

When that economy took its toll on my company, I again was on the hunt for a job. That’s when OSU rang like the orange & black fairy it is and asked me to teach. Not to be one to say no to my awesome alma mater (+health care/benefits), I took it despite its required 150 mile commute, 3 days a week.

You see where this story is going.

In these 4 years where I kept Oregon as my home, I’ve scratched at said bug with an inordinate amount of travel. New York x4, Palm Springs, Vegas x3, Disneyland, Boston, Philly, DC for Inauguration, Park City for Sundance x2, Hawaii, Whistler, Cabo, and a couple cruises. But I still come home tossing and turning. [For the record, my bed is incredibly comfortable and free of bed bugs. Maybe not the best of metaphors given that these creatures have become somewhat of an epidemic].

Fast-Forward January 2011. Over a delicious brunch of French toast in Bridgetown, one of my fabulous girlfriends and I were discussing changes and moving as she is moving herself come March. I gave her the same response I’d been giving myself for years, “What about a job? What about money?” She told me to just do it.

I come home from brunch and my roommate informs me that our landlord is in the midst of selling our condo and they want us out sooner than our agreed upon lease and are offering a very nice “incentive.” Well, one of my excuses is nil. There’s the money. Timing, you’re funny.

There was still the whole issue of having employment, the chances of finding employment in an unfriendly job market, and quitting my 2 jobs when most have none. What sense did this make? Apparently enough. Being the planner that I am, I like for things to be predictable or at least have a relative sketch of my foreseeable future. I made the very unsettling decision to move without a job. Enter extreme anxiety.

So Seattle, you’re it. Some refer to Seattle as Portland’s brother city…I wouldn’t dare, as it seems inappropriate to leave one family member for another.

Five weeks and two days later, I’m with JOB and a home. I’ve seen the worst of Seattle and then I walked into my home…apartment number 10 that I saw to be exact. It was the first place I felt it wasn’t necessary to pinch my nose to save my body from communicable diseases it could possibly get from invasive aromas and that I could lay in the middle of my living room and fall asleep there watching Friends. This is imperative.

After gleefully signing a lease and sharing hugs with my mom and granny (my apartment hunters of the day), I called my dad who has been supportive but I also believe to be secretly hoping it doesn’t work out so I’ll stay home.

Dad: Wow, you’ve got a lot done in a month.

Me: Didn’t think I could do it?

Actually, I really didn’t think I could do it but I thought if I kept envisioning it happening, then maybe it would become reality. I never give myself much credit for getting anything accomplished as there are always items running into tomorrow’s planner checklist that I wanted to get done today, but today, I am giddy with delight.

I feel like calling for Penny Lane and yelling, "IT'S ALL HAPPENING!"

Exhale.

Moments: The Twenty-Ten Edition

My greatest fear is inevitable; the moment will pass and I will still be here, reveling in its magic.

2010 was filled with such moments. And THE moments of all moments.

I remember my first [well, one of] moment of 2010. I was in the back of a cab that was driving around in circles. No, this memory was not induced by a champagne toast; I have other witnesses to attest to this occurrence. He was literally driving in a circle.

My year was kind of like this. Having directions, the GPS was set, yet I wasn’t quite sure where I was going or what would happen. And I had my friends along for the ride, laughing at the hilarity of all situations. And there were many. Far too many to list in a blog and complicated with “insideness” that would probably just irritate you. Unless you are one of these people.

January.

[Egyptian Theater-Downtown Park City, Utah]

Park City. This trip will go down in the books as one of my favorites in this lifetime. And yes, I can confidently say lifetime…presuming that I’ll live an average-aged life to mid 80’s [or so, if I’m feeling really ambitious]. The atmosphere alone can make one fall in love with this locale. Jon Gosselin even tried to kill my Polygamy Porter buzz by stealing my cab, but the snow-packed streets had already warmed the heart of this one.

Memorable Moment(s): In a long weekend with one of my favorite girlfriends, Sarah, I saw 6 independent films, all awesome (how often do you get SIX for SIX!?), asked the adorable Joseph Gordon-Levitt a question about his dark film ‘Hesher’ in a Q&A after the film, and brushed elbows with a little known star I like to call Adrian Grenier. No literally, I turned to find the restroom and there were his curly locks, 7 inches above my stocking-capped head. And to think, the entire vision I had of what Sundance would be like came from his show…’Entourage.’

Full circle.

February.

[Pacific Ocean - Seal Rock, Oregon]

Newport. I’ve made a tradition of visiting this coastal town annually every February since I hit my 252nd month [that's 21 years for those of you measuring life in years] for their amazing Seafood & Wine Festival. It never disappoints. This year, my book club or better known as BRB, the Book Reading Babes, rented a house and made a weekend of it. We already have our place for February 2011 booked.

Yum to the Vin-O!

March.

[The Best French Toast in the universe- Cafe Nola, Bainbridge Island, Washington]

Seattle. The first of 4 trips I would take to our Northern neighbor in 2010 was to have a girl’s weekend. One of my great friends, Carey, flew out from New York to unite with us Pacific Northwesterners.

Memorable Moment: Café Nola. Located on Bainbridge Island just a ferry ride west of Seattle, this adorable eatery is the crafter of the best French Toast I’ve ever consumed. If you know me, you know I don’t speak lightly of “favorites” and I usually find it incredibly difficult to discern between numbers 1 and 7. There are no doubts here. We applauded after the meal.

Do yourself and your mouth a favor and make reservations.

April.

[Love Park - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania]

Philly. My lovely friend Allison moved East to pursue her Doctorate in PT and I decided that spring time would make for a nice visit. My other adventurous pal, Megan, also happened to be residing on the East coast at that time in Boston and we decided that the city of brotherly love would make for a great rendezvous.

Memorable Moment: I’d been on the ground about 2 hours and had just dropped my bags off with Allison. I was looking for the set of Robert DeNiro and Bradley Cooper’s movie [obviously] and stumbled upon LOVE park. Funny. When you’re looking for other things, love just sneaks up on you.

Also, reenacting Rocky with Megan on the infamous steps of the Art Museum…without ever watching Rocky. Don’t judge. I know, it’s almost as bad as being a die-hard-poo-talking Oregon fan and never stepping foot on the Eugene campus. I digress, we’re talking about good things here…

June.

[Archery Summit Vineyard artwork - Dundee, Oregon]

Wine Country. Park City Sarah [For which she will be called the duration of this blog] and I have quite the affinity for grapes [preferably fermented] and try to experience as much of Oregon wine country as possible. So to celebrate my 26^th year she planned an extravagant tour of wine country.

Memorable Moment: Sitting on the patio of our first vineyard stop, Archery Summit, closing my eyes and just breathing that fresh Oregon air. What an invigorating feeling.

Oh, I also got a tattoo.

July.

[La Playa del Amor - Cabo San Lucas, Mexico]

Cabo. The best friend, her roommates and I planned a summer vacation to our Southern brethren. Well I guess Americans use the term, “brethren” conveniently. You know, when we want to enjoy its beautiful rays we say, “brethren”; when they want to enjoy the opportunity of our land and what’s left of employment we say, “illegal immigrants.” Flip-Flop.

We stayed in a marina-side resort in the heart of Cabo and filled our tummies with Mexican food, our skin with melanoma, and our livers with, well, with adult beverages.

Memorable Moment: I took a little glass bottomed-boat ride to Lover’s beach or “La Playa del Amor” if we are using the native tongue, and it rivaled some of the beaches I experienced in the Mediterranean. Uh May Zing.

Mama K’s Wedding. One of my great college gal pals, Mama K married her OSweetheart in the most luxurious affair of the year. I had the incredible honor of serving as one of her maids and giving a toast. For some reason, I can never hold it together when I’m discussing emotions and began crying in the first sentence. I think it went well.

[Waterfront - Downtown Portland, Oregon]

Memorable Moment: Right before Mama K took center stage, we were anxiously awaiting the phone call to summon us down to wedding headquarters. By “we” I mean the bridesmaids. Mama K was as calm as ever. The phone rang, she stood up looking ever-so glamorous, and we followed our girl in tow to marry her guy. What a wonderful day.

August.

[Fountains at the Bellagio - Las Vegas, Nevada]

Vegas. Park City Sarah and Allison [Philly] and I decided we needed a get-a-way to reunite. The three of us met serving as loyal tour guides of the great Oregon State University back in 2004. During that time, we took a beach trip to Lincoln City and cleverly dubbed it “BT ’06”-Beach Trip 06. We needed something to top such an adventure. [For those of you who aren't Oregonians, Lincoln City is about 2.5 hours away from where we lived. You now see why the adventure was necessary]

We named this one VT ’10. And my did it blow BT ’06 out of the water.

Memorable Moments: Vocally assaulting the Bellagio (by Bellagio, I mean whoever was in front of the Bellagio in earshot) for daring to play a Faith Hill song during the upscale fountain show that usually plays the likes of Andrea Bocelli and Elton John, meeting Italian friends and eating at the Brazilian Steakhouse, Samba.

The other moments are meant to stay in Vegas. And will. Until my aforementioned death in my mid 80’s.

Crater Lake.

[The Lookout - Crater Lake, Oregon]

I found myself troubled with my Oregon identity and being able to label myself as an Oregonian with never setting foot on arguably the most famous of Oregon soils. Crater Lake. So it was decided! I woke up one day, called my friends Chris and Lisa, and asked if they’d be down for a brief camping trip to the landmark of all Oregon landmarks.

Memorable Moment: The drive seemed to be taking forever. You know one of those ones where you’re so ridden with excitement that every time you see a sign mentioning the name of your destination you think you’re almost there and should see noticeable definitions of the place any minute now? The are-we-there-yet syndrome was kicking in at full notch and just when I thought I couldn’t stand it another moment, into clear view came Crater Lake. I nearly jumped out of the moving automobile that I was operating, to run to it.

All good things come to those who wait.

September.

School started and thus, ending my adventures. I did sneak in one last jaunt of summer freedom to Seattle :).

October.

[Waiting for the shuttle that would never come - Corvallis, Oregon]

Homecoming. I planned a little reunion trip to our college town with my college pals. Yes, I know, now that I teach and “spend” a lot of time there, what could I possibly need a reunion for? Basically, I arrive when class begins and depart when it ends. I don’t “spend” random time there. And it is a completely different experience being an instructor compared with being a student and not being surrounded with your closest network of friends.

Memorable Moment: Tailgating and revisiting our pedestrian roots that we grew so familiar with in our undergrad years.

November.

[The Cutest Baby Feet Ever]

Olivia. I’m not certain if the memory is still so vivid because of its recency or if I will be able to recall it with so much emotional clarity in years to come. I hope I will be able to. But what I will always keep with me is the knowledge of how incredibly much my world transformed and the growth of my heart on November 13^th 2010.

December.

[Mount Hood, Oregon]

[Deschutes Brewery - Bend, Oregon]

Bend. We took a quick trip to Central, OR with New York Carey, Shayna and her boyfriend Josh to Carey's parent's abode. It snowed immensely, we made snow angels, and visited Oregon's breweries. I've been to Sam Adam's in Boston which is arguably one of the more popular national breweries. I realize the popularity of their [mediocre] beer. But they have nothing on Deschutes.

And still…Olivia.

Memorable Moment: Watching that girl grow. My oh my.

The Rituals. Even with these amazing adventures, my year would be unfulfilled without ‘True Blood’ Sundays in the summer with Park City Sarah and Jenn, that transform into NBC Thursdays or Glee Tuesdays [accommodating to schedules] with S, my phone dates with my favorite East coasters, the daily and vital chats with the best friend, the monthly BRB meetings discussing our latest good read and the necessary Happy Hours with good friends.

The 'iDo's' & 'iWills.'

[Northern Lights Christmas Tree Farm - Pleasant Hill, Oregon]

And to the Farber's [see July], McBride's McDonald's and Starr's, I'm in adoration of your strong bonds with your now spouses, and your oh-so-different nuptial gatherings were blissful. Whether in the fanciness of downtown Portland, the beachside of Otter crest or in the midst of a farm on a clear and perfect Oregon summer's night, I wish you eternal joy.

To those three mighty special women who have been such prominent people not only in my 2010, but in my life [Nicole-20 years of friendship, Kristen-we are going on 17 years I believe and JGonz-we're working on 7], I am elated for your engagements. More so, I am glad your guys understand and appreciate the true unique beauty of not only the outside, but of your hearts and minds. Mazel Tov, my friends. He should've and did put a ring on it.

I revel in all these memories; the large and momentous to the routine and random that intervene the ordinary. That’s where the inside jokes are made. That’s where life resides.

There’s no telling what this next year will bring, but I will be sure to buckle up. After all, safety first. And no one wants a ticket.

Even if I am just driving around in circles.