Trail of Crumbs

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A few weeks ago, we headed to New York for the weekend for a friend’s wedding. Eytan Seidman (of fame) was getting hitched, and we couldn’t miss it. Besides, the wedding was in New Rochelle, NY. And I had never been to New Rochelle. In fact, I’ve never been anywhere outside of Manhattan.

And believe me: we were far, far outside of Manhattan. Sure, it might have been only 20 minutes away, but the Hilton in Rye Brook, where we stayed, could arguably have been on another planet. Or another decade: just stepping inside makes you feel as though you’ve gone through a decorating time warp (Landing you in circa 1963. Seriously, the producers of Mad Men have got to shoot some scenes here).

And just in case that wasn’t enough weird, the hotel was hosting a girls’ dance competition.

Let me tell you: the sight of underage little girls dolled up like prostitutes, set against a backdrop of polyester and unfulfilled dreams is not one I will soon forget. In Eytan’s defense, the hotel we chose was not actually on his list of recommend ones. After all, why listen TO A GUY WHO FRIGGIN FOUNDED A SITE THAT PROVIDES REAL HOTEL REVIEWS? Why listen, when instead you can stay at the Hannah Montana House of Ill-Repute? HUH, RAND?


Portland seems like a lifetime away, though we were only there a few weeks ago. Rand had a conference, and I popped down with him, because I love Portland, and it’s just so damn close to Seattle (a three-hour-drive) that I couldn’t think of a legtimate reason for staying at home.

Besides, there’s just so much damn crazy that happens on the stretch of I-5 between Seattle and Portland. Last time, we saw someone who had decorated their mini-van in homage to the Jonas Brothers for whatever reason. Honestly, if you asked me to turn my car into a shrine for any of the following, I would be game: Indiana Jones, movie-theater popcorn (I love popcorn), the musical stylings of William Shatner, and/or comfortable footwear.

But the Jonas Brothers? What. The. Hell. I suppose, though, it’s about as legitimate as this guy, who turned his vehicle into a billboard for, well, I don’t know what.

I read this four times and still have no idea what it means.

I read this four times and still have no idea what it means.

The huge sign affixed to the back of his car reads: “All Christians & Atheists judge and deny Jesus is the god of life in us all & die blaspheming the whole I spirit.”

I dare anyone to make less sense.


There are many types of people in world. Some, I daresay, are better than others.

They are the sort of folks who run marathons.

That benefit good causes, like the American Cancer Society.

And they do all these wonderful feats on the morning of their wedding.

My friend Rachel is one of these such people.  While we were roaming around New Orleans, she was running a half-marathon (and simultaneously making the world a better place).

On, in case you didn’t catch it the first time I said it, she ran a half-marathon in New Orleans on the morning of her wedding. But I’ll get to that in a moment. (more…)

During our trip to Boston, the hubby had some work to do in Cambridge. I went along, figuring I’d tour Harvard Square while he was busy. I was sort of apprehensive to do so, because I figured rich kids with neatly parted hair, Mid-Atlantic accents, and sweaters tied around their shoulders dominated the area, and they’d spot an outsider easily. I went to a state school, on a full-scholarship, and up until now I never realized that I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about it.

Plus, for reasons both varied and funny to me now, I’ve never seen Good Will Hunting. If I had seen it when the opportunity presented itself, I likely wouldn’t have met my husband. So now I kind of refuse to see it. (more…)

I was in Boston ages ago. I’m getting around to this post now because …

  • Fall is coming and New England seems a nice place to be this time of year.
  • It was my husband’s suggestion and I thought it might be a nice change of pace to actually heed his advice.
  • I am a lazy ass.
  • Our next trip is three weeks away, and I needed something to write about.
  • Boston has, for a variety of reason, been on my brain. (But that’s another story.)

So please ignore the fact that these photos are obviously from early spring. And also that there are huge gaps in my memory about this trip. And that I look kind of exhausted and freaked out in most of the photos. I had about 500 Jewish in-laws surrounding me, some of whom were not in any mood to ignore the fact that I am Catholic. (more…)

Rand and I headed out to Palo Alto last week, as he had another round of meetings with potential investors. Since the main reason for my presence was to make sure my husband didn’t have a stress-induced heart-attack, it didn’t end up being a pleasure trip for either of us, really. To compound things, I endured no less than two Dick Moves! from little white-haired old women over the course of this trip. Oh, and no one in traffic would let me merge.

All in all, I didn’t get an entirely favorable impression of the town. HOWEVER, my good friend Natala is from there, and we met up with some awesome folks, so I’m willing to reserve judgment … a little.

We left Seattle on Monday night, and had dinner at Pallino, which is one of the best places to eat in Sea-Tac Airport.


I’ve been sitting in front of this damn screen, trying to put into words what it is I love about Astoria. Yes, The Goonies was filmed there. And one of my favorite restaurants, ever,  is down there. And the people there are both awesome and crazy in a way that only small town people can be. But there’s something else, too. Something I can’t really explain. Perhaps, taking a page from arguably the greatest Goonie of all time, Chunk, I’ll simply say this: Everywhereist love Astoria. (more…)