The Everywhereist

I shall name all my future pets and children after you, good sir.

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Disclaimer from my legal team (a.k.a., the voice inside my head that’s see one too many episodes of The People’s Court): I heard the following story from a friend. I don’t condone any of the behavior of these parties, nor recommend it to you to try. I simply think that it is awesome, and deserves our attention and admiration.

What you choose to do with this information is up to you. (more…)

Sometimes, I find it’s very easy to predict what I’d like.

For example, if you took me to some sort of cake exhibition that required us to wear pretty clothes and comfy shoes, I would enjoy that very much. On the other hand, if you made me listen to “comedy” of Dane Cook while sampling flavored mayonnaise, I might pray for a swift death. I think I am uncomplicated in this manner. But sometimes, sometimes I will like or dislike something passionately, and it’s difficult to foresee.

So when my husband was driving me to Buellton, CA, because I was curious about why it was the split pea soup capital of the world (a distinction which I find equally dubious and hysterical) and he saw the signs for Solvang, CA, he immediately suggested we go there instead.

“You are going to love Solvang.”

Again, it’s one of those things that I doubt anyone could have predicted: that I would like (nay, ADORE) the cheesiness of a small Danish village in the middle of California. But I did. Of course, it helped that they had actual danishes, of the frosted variety.

Something is awesome in the state of California.

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(more…)

Rand and I are lucky: we have awesome friends. And while that statement should be a given from nearly every single person on the planet (I mean, why be friends with people who you don’t think are awesome?) it often times isn’t the case. I’ve talked to my fair share of people with the occasional friend who’s nasty. Or critical. Or just plain lame.

Laura and Chris are not any of these things. And so when the opportunity arose to visit their house outside of San Francisco, we took it. Because, we assumed, they lived in a magical wonderland full of toys and fun.

And, holy cats, they do.

Their home is about 45 minutes outside of the city by train. I will discuss this no further, since, like all hip and intelligent people who are forced to buy homes outside of the city (because they don’t want their future children selling crack by the age of 8), they are sensitive to this point. Let me simply say that Rand and I hopped on a train, and spent a few sunlight days and nights in a BART compartment that smelled of urine, and it was all worth it.

The name of their neighborhood escapes me. The majority of the houses there are designed by Joseph Eichler, a developer who was active from the 50s to the mid-70s, and maintained an aesthetic not unlike Frank Lloyd Wright’s (at least, as far as I understand). People who understand things like interior design and home decor go absolutely crazy about this sort of thing. Sadly, like physics and mixing prints within the same outfit, it is something that I appreciate, but don’t fully comprehend. (more…)

While we were down in San Francisco last week, we attended a charity event that a friend of ours was hosting. A lot of people in attendance at the event were from Rand’s industry.

I used to be petrified of these sort of social gatherings. Rand usually got swept up in conversation, leaving me in a room full of strangers (the real clincher: many of them knew who I was, and I knew no one. This meant that EVERYONE KNEW WHO THE LOSER STANDING ALONE IN THE CORNER WAS. I couldn’t even hide my social ineptness behind my anonymity). After a while, I realized I had to adapt to survive, and I started chatting people up like a bubbling moron. Someone would ask why I was at the party, and I’d explain my connection to Rand.

“Oh, you’re Mystery Guest!” they’d say, referring to the screen name that Rand had given me on his blog several years ago. I would smile and nod. They’d inevitably be his customers or clients (remember, the party was hosted by a friend of ours, and the guests were all people in the same industry as Rand). We’d chat a bit about his company or the industry as a whole. Run-off of my husband’s internet start-up fame. They’d look shocked when I explained I knew next to nothing about SEO.

But last weekend, at this particular party, something very peculiar happened.

(more…)

Things never turn out quite how you imagine them.

I try to remember this whenever I find myself setting up expectations. Whether it’s a new trip, or an event, or meeting a new person, I’ve always created some sort of script in my head for how things will play out. Often, it’s a recipe for disappointment. The hotel is on a noisier street. The city smells much more urine-y than I had anticipated. The caterer will be late … or possibly drunk. And the people on whom you’ve placed so much pressure to be awesome, may be lovely in their own right, but they can’t match the person you’ve built up in your head.

I reminded myself of this as I went out to meet Deanna, the blogatrix behind Traveling Monkeys. She was popping into Seattle for a few days with her family, and we had arranged to meet. And she had a tall order to fill. Because the Deanna who I had constructed from her tweets and blog entries was fantastic. She was funny and sarcastic and sweet. And, hello? She has a NINJA BABY.

I had our entire afternoon planned out in my head: we’d become fast friends, swapping movie quotes from The Princess Bride and laughing at things that would take too much time to explain to third parties. Maybe she’d ride in on a pegasus (because unicorns are SO overused lately) and she’d have a present for me.

And in reality?

Well, we didn’t quote The Princess Bride.

We quoted Anchorman.

(more…)

-I didn’t realize you could just walk into a drugstore and find them next to the panty shields.

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Taken at Rite-Aid, Portland, OR.

While traveling in Scotland, I saw this ad on a bus, and laughed my ass off for 10 minutes (I still have plenty of ass left. Don’t worry):

They seem to have a preference for one of the actors ...

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Which, of course, prompted this exchange …

Me: It makes total sense that they’d glorify their own countrymen over American actors. I mean, it’s not like there’s a ton of Scottish stars who make it big in the U.S. There’s Sean Connery, and Pierce Brosnan and -

Rand: Pierce Brosnan’s Irish, not Scottish.

Me: What’s the difference again?

Rand: I’m not talking to you any more.

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So, since my husband’s not talking to me, I’ll ask you …

A friend of my cousin’s once told me a story about something that happened to him while traveling. He had grown up in Switzerland when he was very young, moving to Italy when he was about 7 or 8. Later, he moved to the U.S., and he currently lives in Florida. Several years ago, he was traveling back to visit some family in Italy, and went through Newark, which is no doubt one of the larger and uglier airports in the U.S. And one that sees a lot of passengers.

While rushing to his gate, he ran smack dab into another traveller. While they stood, sorting things out, they realized that they knew eachother. They had gone to school together.

In Switzerland.

I suppose that sort of thing happens a lot, but it always makes my head spin. That you could bump into someone you know, far from home. I wish I could see all the decisions and occurences that lead up to two people arriving at the same place at the same time. Or see all the near-misses – the times we very nearly see someone, but don’t. It plays out like a movie in my head. I take a second too long picking out a shirt to wear, and enter the grocery store through one door, barely missing a friend who leaves out another one. (more…)