The Everywhereist

Since my friend Desiree’s visited a few weeks back, and I’m awaiting an upcoming visit from Christine (the brilliant blogatrix behind this post, and several awesome comments on the site) I’ve been thinking a lot about my life in Florida, and how I’ve changed since then.

Don’t worry – this isn’t some sort of soul-searching post. Nor is it a reflection on how much I’ve grown (gag) or anything of the sort. Because let’s face it: the only thing about me that’s grown since I’ve left Florida is my delightful posterior (more to love, bitches!).

Rather, this is a post about the habits I had in Florida, habits that I suspect most people have in the south. And how different my everyday routine is now that I live in a cooler, rainy climate like the Pacific Northwest. Why do I bring this up? Because the United State is huge. I don’t know if you’ve realized how huge, but here’s a brief reminder:

I am embarassed by how long it took me to make this.

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I recently asked my husband what my site was lacking, and his response was infographs. Lucky for you, I don’t really know what those are so instead, I drew pictures of hamsters. Unfortunately, I drew it on the back of some crappy scrap paper left over from a job I had, like, four years ago – meaning that you can occasionally see the writing on the other side. But anyway …

Living in the Pacific Northwest, you learn to live with some pretty insane weather. You can generally tell that the meteorologist on the evening news is guessing, at best, as to what the next few days will bring. Ultimately, I think their prediction method falls somewhere along these lines.

Step 1: Create iconography for different weather forecasts, and place them on the floor of a room.

I swear there's a documented case of it raining frogs, but Rand says that I made that up.

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In lieu of a guest blog post this week, I’ve decided to resurrect my short-lived Ask The Everywhereist feature. That way I can still exploit my readers for content (via their brilliant questions) without denying myself the pleasure of composing yet another snarky blog post! Plus, like Dear Abby and Prudie and all those other women who know everything, I’m dispensing useful advice to the masses!

What’s that, legal representation? Okay, fine – I’ll offer up a disclaimer. Sigh. This post is for entertainment purposes only. Any advice included therein may be considered the ramblings of a mad woman and should probably be ignored. Failing to ignore my advice should result in injury, emotional scarring, a general patina of ickiness, and possible deportation. You’ve been warned.

But onward!

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Jessica of WhyGoItaly writes …

Dear Everywhereist:

I really hate humidity. What can you do to make humid destinations more palatable for me?

Luv, Jessica

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You know that song by The Black Eyed Peas that goes, “Tonight’s gonna be a good, good night?” Well, I’ve had that song in my head all week. Because it has been a good, good week. Summer finally came to Seattle, and with it sunshine and butterflies and ice cream cones and dreams.

Too much? Tough. How often am I optimistic, unsarcastic, and blissfully in love with everything? Enjoy it while it lasts, kids. Next week, I suspect the vitriol and spite will be back with a vengeance.

But today? Today brings a world of wonder. Behold:

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The Old Spice Guy has take the internet by storm. In a round of viral advertising (that I suspect kids will study in mass media history classes for years to come), Old Spice unleashed a slew of videos featuring Isaiah Mustafa (a.k.a., the Perfect Man in the towel) responding to Tweets, proposing on behalf of a fan, and hitting on Alyssa Milano. The result? 6 million views in 24 hours, and lots of shots of chiseled abs. And for that, we say thank you.

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It’s not a permanent fix, but for the first time in 3 months, oil is no longer rushing into the Gulf. It’s not a lot (after all, there’s still a hell of a lot of clean-up and seemingly permanent environmental damage), but for right now, I’ll take it.

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Pride was a few weeks ago in Seattle, and while we really haven’t had much of a summer (as we’d been promised) it didn’t stop folks from stripping down, dancing in the streets, and being freely and gloriously exactly who they are. Rand and I popped down to see the parade and enjoy the festivities, and while I could spend hours trying to describe the inclusive, loving feeling that was hovering around Seattle Center on that day, I think photos probably do a better a job. Here are my top ten pictures from Seattle’s 2010 Gay Pride festival and parade.

1. A rainbow flag flies atop the Space Needle (for the first time, ever).

I love you, Seattle, like no other.

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2. The t-shirt my hubby wore to pride.

Respect, yo.

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Last weekend, some friends of ours invited us to tour a few Oregon wineries with them. We thoroughly enjoyed the pinnacle of our yuppiedom, which included a tasting menu at The Painted Lady (a lovely restaurant that was named for style of the building in which it resided. I had hoped it was some reference to a whore, but was disappointed), and a stay at The Allison, a boutique hotel and spa that has a Gold LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) certification.

In other words, they don’t just say they’re green – they have a plaque to prove it.

And clearly, a lot of attention was given to being environmentally conscious (save for one oversight). The hotel had solar panels, a grass roof (which collects rainwater, apparently. I think. Grass roofs kind of confuse me, to be honest), and had numerous little touches in the room that showed they really were paying attention when they learned to reduce, reuse, and recycle.

They’ve eliminated plastic water bottles, and instead water can be found in refillable glass bottles (which are sanitized, filled, and sealed between uses).

They look like tiny little bottles of Patron.

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Warning: some of the links in this post go to sites that quack, loudly. It is horrible and designers of those sites are morons. I suggest turning off the volume on your computer should you intend to click on anything.

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I recently wrote a guest post for a travel blog, imploring people to be tourists in their hometowns. After all, no matter how tacky the results, you’re almost guaranteed to have fun, snapping photos and eating samples of local delicacies, and speaking with fake Minnesotan accents (which I believe to be one of the most noble of all American accents).

As an intro and example, I mentioned how several weeks ago, my friend Desiree came up from Florida to visit me and our friend Jamie (another Floridian who happens to live in Seattle, too) and how the three of us embarked on one of those tacky Seattle Duck Tours. I mentioned how it was ridiculous and silly and a lot of fun.

We even bought the obnoxious tour photo. (I am too lazy to edit out the copyright. I wonder what will happen.)

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This week’s post comes from the brilliant and lovely Angela, who I consistently describe as “one of the best people I’ll ever work with. Ever.” (She was also inspiration for my be-nice-to-everyone day in Chicago last year.) Recently, Angela became a mom to an adorable little girl (like, really recently. As in, LAST WEEK recently). Fortunately, a few weeks ago, as she sat around her house impatiently awaiting the arrival of her munchkin, she decided to kill some time by writing me a guest post! Keep in mind, this is a couple weeks old, so the baby of which she speaks has now arrived, and is an absolute cutie. But anyway, on to Angela’s post …

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By Angela Taylor Hylland
(a.k.a. Syntax Sorceress)

As I started writing this post, I couldn’t help by wonder if Geraldine would find it amusing or offensive, given that I wasn’t able to make it to her destination wedding in nearby Eastern Oregon two years ago. But since she likes to walk that line herself—one of her most endearing qualities, to be sure—I finally decided she would approve. The idea came to me yesterday as I was lounging around the house waiting for the impending birth of my first child. After you’ve run out of nesting projects, checked Facebook 100x too many, and caught up on your favorite blogs (including The Everywhereist, of course), you have a lot of time to think. And I’ve been thinking about the important lessons I’ve learned that I’d like to pass on to my child.

Oh the places these little feet will go …

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