Dear residents of Seattle;

First off, a brief apology. I am sure that I have flipped off the vast majority of you in traffic. On more passive aggressive occasions, I may have intentionally picked my nose in the vicinity of your children, thereby affirming the belief that it’s not only okay and acceptable, but it’s fun! Enjoy trying to break them of that habit.

However, all of that is in the past (and by “past”, I mean, “foreseeable future”), because I’m here to give you a bit of HOLY-CATS-THAT’S-AWESOME advice. And it is as follows: Visit the Willamette Valley wineries in Oregon. Immediately.

Oh, hush: I do not CARE if you have other obligations to tend to in our fair city. The kids can drop themselves off at daycare for once (plus, you don’t want those little nose-pickers in your car anyway). And stop whining that you’re going to miss Great Uncle Lou’s last days: it’s called hospice for a reason. It’s because it’s hospitable. He’s not going to notice you’re gone: he thinks it’s 1943, anyway.

Besides: OREGON WINE COUNTRY IS AWESOME. Here are just a few reasons why.

1. It’s must closer to Seattle. I’m not going to lie: I suck at geography, and I don’t really know where Napa is. But I know that Oregon is, like, a MILLION times closer (no hyperbole).

Hee hee. It's on Uranus.

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2. There’s no sales tax in Oregon. None. For people in Washington state, that’s like a 10 percent discount on everything.* The only downside is that most things purchased in Oregon are made of hemp. (*Of course, this is only true if you cheat on your taxes, failing to retroactively pay sales tax on all tax-free Oregon purchases come April. And I would never endorse defrauding the U.S. government in any way.)

This entire building was made from hemp. If you licked the paint on the walls, you got high (though according to my buzzkill hubby, it was just "lead poisoning.")

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3. Matt and Kim live in Oregon. I know, I know – you probably don’t know who Matt and Kim are. But they’re awesome, and if you drove down to Oregon, your chances of meeting them increase by, like, a thousand percent.

Matt kind of looks like a hobbit in this photo, but they're still awesome.

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4. Everything will be far less expensive than its California counterpart. Accommodations, restaurants, wine tastings, and even the wine itself is going to be way cheaper in Oregon than California. A few wineries even have picnic tables and recreational areas, so you can bring your own awesome selection of food. This either qualifies you as a connoisseur, or a hobo.

What? Hoboes can be foodies.

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5. There are fewer crowds. My husband gets upset when I use the phrase, “It’s so crowded – it’s like the Black Hole of Calcutta at happy hour.” He’s says it’s offensive. So I’m not going to use that term. I’m simply going to say that attending a wine tasting in Napa will leave you more squished than an elevator ride at a Dom DeLuise look-alike convention.

RIP, Sweet Prince.

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6. It’s gives you way more (yuppie) street-cred. Now that Napa has become mainstream for the upper-middle class, you’ll need to do more to impress your foie-eating friends. One the “hot” list for young urban professionals: scented oxygen appetizers, straddle buses, and Oregon wines.Yay!

Also on the list: playing frisbee golf while channeling Don Draper.

7. You can hang out in Portland. Again, I have no idea about geography, but I assume that Napa is in the middle of nowhere, and consequently a no-man’s land overrun by cannibals and mutants. Instead of isolating yourself in the California countryside with your friends (which, HELLO? – so the makings of a horror movie), you can chill in Portland (a city that lacks any major structural landmarks, making it immune to alien attacks). Yay!

This would never happen in Portland.

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8. The weather is awesome. No, seriously. The Willamette Valley is not, like the rest of the Pacific northwest, reminiscent of swamp that was accidentally left in the universe’s refrigerator (what? I suck at analogies, too). During the summer, the days are sun-drenched and warm, and because we’re further north, they’re longer, too.

This was taken at 10pm.

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There. That’s it. Eight perfectly good reasons to (temporarily) abandon all your responsibilities and drive down to Oregon. Just be sure to properly say good-bye to Uncle Lou. I don’t want that on my conscience.

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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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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Mindy has, under no duress or guilt, agreed to do one more brilliant blog post for all of us! Thanks Mindy! (P.S. – as soon as the post gets 3 comments, you’ll get your dog back, as per the terms specified in our ransom agreement).

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Dear Everywhereist Readers,

Wow. I’m back. Now I know Geraldine’s just taking pity on me. But I’m not going anywhere. And if you’re not either, relax. There are many books that use travel as a metaphor or plot device to entertain you, my beloved home-bound readers. In literature, sometimes “road trip” or “journey” or “travel” are used as code words for “voyage of self-discovery” or “brisk plot.” Cool, huh?

So let’s say you’ve read all the classics of travel writing, like On the Road or even Bill Bryson or Elizabeth Gilbert (and let’s be honest, if you are a female between the ages of 18 and 65, chances are you or your best friend has read Eat, Pray, Love). Don’t despair. There are plenty of interesting and new (enough) travel-themed books you may know about. Yet.

Here are a few I’ve enjoyed, and a two I haven’t even read. Yet.

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My brother just joined Twitter. This is somewhat amusing to me, because he’s still in the “What the heck is the purpose of this?” phase (note: that doesn’t stop his Twitter feed from being raunchily hilarious). I’ve been using Twitter for a few years (though the account I use now was created more recently than my older, personal account) and as I focus more on travel and travel blogging, its purpose has become apparent.

Being active on Twitter is a must for any travel blogger. Not only does it give you a great network with which to connect to other travel bloggers and promote your own articles and links, but it actually makes your travels better, too. Check out my reasons for how Twitter can help you in all your travels … (more…)

This week’s post is courtesy of my brilliant friend Laura, who I’ve known the 10th grade. I could go on and on about Laura’s awesomeness, but this story illustrates it perfectly:

Laura and I were in a terrible statistics class our senior year of high school. It was a requirement for the IB program, and I think it’s safe to say that both of us hated the class. One day the teacher, Mr. Jacobson (who had just become a father) asked our table a question.

Laura, who was generally rather quite in class, mumbled something.

“What was that?” Mr Jacobson asked.

And so Laura repeated what she said, this time louder, and with an Australian accent.

“THE DINGO ATE YOUR BABY.”

Mr. Jacobson stared blankly at her for a few minutes.

Finally he replied, “No it didn’t.”

He then went back to teaching class, and gave up on engaging us in conversation. It was awesome.

Just like Laura.

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I assure you, dear readers of Everywhereist, that I thought long and hard about what I should write for what I hope is only the first of at least several guest blog posts that you will bookmark in your web browser of choice and cherish forever. (Well, a girl can dream, can’t she?) My topic for today is how to avoid common pitfalls when traveling to an athletic event in which you are competing. I tried to re-word that to make it sound more exciting (or at least shorter), but all other descriptions were too vague for my attorney brain to handle.

Several years ago my husband and I began competing in races. I’m not sure what you think of when you hear the word “races”, I guess you might think of Nascar or the Kentucky Derby. I’m mainly talking about triathlons, but we also swim and run without the biking part. One time we biked without the swim and run part, but it is something of which we do not speak because it resulted in a very silent car ride home.

At any rate, much to my husband’s chagrin, some of our races have taken us out of town. I have now been banned from scheduling any races more than half an hour away from our house without prior approval. Luckily for you, my husband was slow to catch on and I picked up on a few things that could make your life easier if you are planning any destination races. (more…)

Many, many years ago, when my brother first went to college, he made some friends via the internet. At the time, it was a foreign and strange place, full of child molesters and murderers and little else (now, I am pleased to say that while a criminal element still exists online, it is mostly populated by geeks and nerds and everyone else on the planet). My brother was in California at the time, and we were still living in Florida. My brother had casually mentioned to my mom that he’d been meeting some friends for dinner – and they happened to be people who he had originally met online.

My mother, true to her specific brand of crazy, freaked out. She went apeshit. And, long story short, the evening ended with my brother meeting some lovely friends for dinner, and then returning home to find several messages on his phone from the LAPD, who believed him to be dead or missing.

Sigh.

My brother turned out to be fine. My mother continues to be paranoid.

At the time, though, I think her crazy made a little more sense. It was 1994: the internet was new and scary. Now, meeting people from the online realm doesn’t seem to hold the same dangers it did (or at least, the dangers my mother thought it did). Recently, I hung out with Mike Perron of PerronBrothers.com. I am pleased to say that he was not at all creepy, and that no parties involved were skinned and turned into dresses, despite repeated jokes of that nature.

Also, it's weird that Mike's cousin and I are wearing the same outfit.

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It is my utmost pleasure to welcome back the brilliant librarian/historian/bookworm/femme fatale Mindy for our second installment of “Mondays with Mindy“. I’m incredibly lucky she agreed to write another guest post for the blog, because I don’t know anyone else with her name, and frankly, “Mondays with Mindy … with Geraldine!” sounds like an identity crisis.

All of the content to follow is Mindy’s, all typos and formatting errors are mine.

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Dear Everywhereist Reader(s),

It’s my lucky day! Geraldine asked me back to talk about books again. But this time, we’ll gear the discussion toward the frequent flyer. You’re lucky, too! Nancy Pearl, the rock star of the library world, has already detailed her ideas of what makes for a great “carry-on book.” (Shut up. Do you have an action figure in your likeness? I didn’t think so.)

To sum: a good plane trip book has to be deep enough to draw you in and distract you for a good, long while. But it can’t be so freaking complex that you can’t set it down to let your neighbor use the loo. And it has to be compelling enough to hold you rapt, in the unlikely event you’re being harassed by fellow passengers and airline employees for your crazy leftist politics.  (Good job on the Swedish thriller, Geraldine. That’s the perfect airplane pick: plot-heavy, fascinating characters, crisp, clear prose.)

Sometimes I think there is nothing better than a good Law and Order marathon, I am still willing to admit that there is a time and a place for great works of literature (G.W.O.L.). The airplane, my friends, is not that time. Heading to Dublin? Struggle through Joyce in the privacy of your own home. Try Benjamin Black or Tana French for that atmospheric Irish in-flight entertainment instead. (more…)

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I know nothing about children. I’ve made this claim numerous times, but I feel the need to reiterate it, just so we’re clear: if you handed me an eggplant and a baby, I would obviously be able to tell them apart, because I’m not a moron. But if you asked me what to do with the egglplant and the baby, that’s where problems would arise. I would know exactly what to do with the former, and no clue of what to do with the latter (presumably, babies should not be salted to remove bitterness).

While reading through Christine’s tips for traveling to theme parks with children, and Deanna’s advice on how to survive trips with a little one, I realized something: they are effing brilliant. Because they’re so far beyond the “what-the-hell-do-I-do-with-this-baby” that they’re actually able to dispense some seriously helpful advice to those of you who may have little ones.

But I can’t do that. So I’d like to speak to those of you who don’t have children. Those of you who, like me, have no idea what to do with children whatsoever. Who are absolutely mystified by them. This post is for you. Because a few weeks back, we went down to Florida to visit my cousin and his wife, and their three children, and the entire week was a revelation. And I’d like to share some information that will be worthwhile to those of you who are as clueless as I am about kids.

Below are my ten tips for childless couples visiting children. Those of you who are parents, be warned: you will probably quietly shake your head in embarrassment at my ignorance.

1. Children are scared of stuff.
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   Well, duh, right? As a child, I was afraid that there was something living in the toilet, and if I didn’t hop off it immediately after going, it would bite me in the ass. This is not what I would call a “logical fear” (wrote the woman who insists on having at least half a tank of gas in her car at all times in case of a zombie apocalypse. No, I’m not kidding). So I figured my cousin’s kids, who are kind of brilliant, would not be scared of silly fictional stuff. WRONG. We went on a ride at DisneyWorld that included real (but controlled) flames. They freaked. I found this shocking.
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   These are the flames which caused the little ones to go apeshit. Fortunately, Rand was there.

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This week’s guest post comes from Naomi, a.k.a. The Gastrognome. Longtime readers (hi to both of you!) may remember my previous proclamations of Naomi’s awesomeness. She is a brilliant food blogger, an absolute riot, and she’s not too hard on the eyes, neither.  If the opportunity presents itself to share a meal /drink/ dirty joke with her, I strongly suggest that you take it.

All that, and she’s been awesome enough to share her tips of how to swing an awesome vacation (in this case to Cabo) while unemployed. This is definitely one to bookmark, kids: the economy kind of blows right now – employed or no, saving a little cash never hurt.

It’s also been way too long since she and I have hung out, so I’m going to turn the last bit of this intro into a guilt-trip. After all, she’s too busy galavanting around the world to call me. Or email. It’s fine. I’ll just sit here. Alone. In the dark. Waiting for her to call …

Cough cough …

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