I realize I never mentioned where I was going when I got all bitchy about traveling. After taking a weekend avalanche safety course in WA state (which was ironically canceled halfway through due to extreme avalanche danger), I had to head to Las Vegas for work. Now, now, before you respond, "What do you mean, had to? Hel-lo, free trip to Vegas," hear me out--I was there by myself, for work. There's something disheartening about traveling for work when virtually everyone else on the plane is in Hawaiian shirts talking about how shitfaced they're going to get/how much they're going to win gambling/how they're going to see the Thunder Down Under:
One really can't engage in any of these activities solo without feeling a little trashy; a partner in crime is required, so to speak. Someone you can say, "Wow, I'm glad I'm not as big of a drunk/gambling addict/whore as she is."
Virtually everyone coming from the airport wanted a taxi--I ended up in a 45 minute line of partially shaded cattle runs as if we were at an amusement park:
No exhilarating rollercoaster at the end of this line, but there was a dirty car driven by a dude who drove like an ass and barely spoke English. Po-tay-to, po-ta-to.
But I can't complain about the weather. From WI winter to the upper 60's? Totally worth it:
Even if these things kept flying overhead every 10 minutes or so bringing more tourists to taunt me with their revelry:
Perhaps best of all, I came home with one of these finished:
A sock! Made from a droolingly soft merino-possum blend. More on the formation of the sock, and the work on its partner, next time.