And nothing. NOTHING. Is worse than sweaty underwear ("swunderwear", if you will).
Suffice to say, I was not pleased that work was beckoning me to the City of Sin once again. I wasn't worried about the sin part so much as the BLAZING SUMMER HEAT (when I thought about it, it was always in ALL CAPS). Weather forecasts let me know it was going to be in the 90s all week, and I grudgingly packed many pairs of shorts. I hate my legs almost as much as sweating, and I tend to hide them as much as possible--so I was Serious with a capital S.
When I arrived, bracing myself for the blast as I stepped out of the airport, I found....it wasn't that bad. Actually, it was kind of nice. My copious amounts of sweat seemed to immediately evaporate. I realized that I need to amend my complaints post haste, even though it's a cliche: it ain't the heat, it's the humidity. I'm glad we got that clarified. It's still a little disturbing when you chugging water all day and never seem to have to pee. My host tried to convince me that it was healthy to keep cycling all of that moisture right out of my pores, but I remain unconvinced.
I sampled some local fare:
|Classy and white-trash - is it a meal or an oxymoron?|
Las Vegas, save (maybe) the Strip, is not a particularly pedestrian friendly place. Though your eyes tell you otherwise, the hotel that appears to be just a few minutes walk away might be several miles down the road. Occasionally the berm on an eight lane highway has to suffice as your sidewalk. So I'm always delighted by this fixture on a 6 lane highway that runs past the university:
|Simply push the button|
|The sign lights up|
|And theoretically cars stop for you to cross. Unless they are assholes.|
I was excited to see this plant growing in some of the landscaping for UNLV. Despite my apparent black thumb, I keep trying to raise plants. I happen to have a pot of this stuff growing out on my balcony at home.
I figure, if it's growing in the middle of the desert out of clay and sand, it's got to survive for me, right? Or else it'll be that much more depressing when it does die.
Travel does have the advantage of extra knitting time. After realizing that making a bobble with (K, P, K) on the same stitch is in fact not the same as a (K, Ktbl, K) I figured out that my wine tote prototype did indeed have many, many errors. The whole thing came apart, and I worked it up to the same point where we were two weeks ago. I didn't even have the heart to take a picture; it looks like this with no strange green yarn in the grape bunches. I also worked on the sock that I'm coming to think of as 'that stupid sock that I hate'. Maybe it's time to start a new project....