The journey is the reward

Here's the thing: I'm tenacious when it comes to doing what I've set out to do. I moved to California almost three years ago by myself - no friends, no idea what I was doing, only the resolve that I would figure it all out and make it work. It turns out that figuring it out and making it work is a never-ending adventure.

After all this time, I still think to myself on a disturbingly regular basis, "What am I doing? How do I still not have a plan?" I'm all about plans; not having one drives me insane. But the little devil on my shoulder is constantly reminding me that the unplanned events in my life have usually been the most fun. So, I try to take a deep breath and go with the flow. Maybe a couple deep breaths...

Two weeks ago I gave up the fight at work at 8:00 p.m. for the third night in a row and dragged my tired self out into the dark night toward my car. Since my phone doesn't get any reception in the office, it beeped back to life in the freedom of the outdoors that I had a voicemail. It was Teen. "Hey, you want to go to Nugget's this weekend? Let me know. We'd leave on Friday night." I hung up, dialed Teen and responded with an unwavering, "Of course. I'm in. Hmmm... I'm going to need to find my bikini..."

That Friday night when I finally arrived in Palm Springs I was met with an 80's dance party, a glass of wine and a smorgasbord of gas station candy bars. Things were looking up...

The next morning we sat with our hosts pouring over the morning papers and cups of coffee before heading out to the Jacuzzi in the front yard to take advantage of the crisp desert morning air. As the jets worked on the small of my back and I laughed with Nugget and Teen while constantly throwing the dog his tennis ball, I realized that I wasn't having to remind myself to take those deep breaths.

The rest of that Saturday passed by in a blur of swimming laps, cannon balls, grilled shrimp and blended margaritas, reggae and disco blaring through the house and yard, moments of dozing on pool floats and relaxing in the late afternoon shade with a couple of Coronas while wrapped up in beach towels. If only every day could be so wonderful...

By the time we were having pre-dinner cocktails and watching the sunset, I was totally exhausted; truly relaxing can really wear a girl out! But it was the good kind of tired - the kind where you want nothing more than to stay seated, sipping champagne and grinning through heavy eyelids.

On the drive home Sunday night I realized that I may not have the husband and the kids that so many of my friends are starting to acquire. And maybe I am still fighting and pushing to reach that turning point in my career, but I am constantly collecting experiences...and I remain hopeful that someday I will have that husband and those 2.2 kids. And just maybe, for 10 minutes of their lives, they will be impressed that crazy Uncle Nugget has a fancy award and that I've tested out just how hard it is to raise it above my head in mock-triumph (though by that time, Auntie Teen will probably have a whole house full of them herself)...maybe they'll think it's cool that mom and Auntie Teen used to jump in the car for weekend adventures in Palm Springs and San Diego...or maybe not.

For now though, I'll just keep reminding myself that the current stretch of my path seems to have me in the role of a wanderer - collecting stories, friends, pictures and experiences in a million different destinations. And when I put it like that, well, that doesn't sound too bad at all. Deep breath...

"To dream of the person you would like to be is to waste the person you are."

Cheers, mate!

I would look around filled with anticipation and take a quick little sip. I'd follow that will pulling a face, spluttering and then trying my hardest to look like nothing had happened. I was somewhere in the age of under 10 years old and waiting for my Popi to momentarily walk away from his Saturday night can of Old Milwaukee or Miller High Life. It was disgusting and I silently fretted over the fact that I was the offspring of a crazy person.

Fast forward to those drinking-formative years of college. And not just any college, but the University of Colorado, where we not only like to pump out the most NASA astronauts, but also some hardcore partiers. Actually, it's the latter that CU is most notorious for - and if you don't like beer, then you gulp down Cosmopolitans in Nalgene bottles during tailgate parties (of which, it must be said, I recommend nothing LESS). I never really took to either.

And then, at the age of 20, I was off to Australia for 5 months. After 24 hours in my new country I hadn't had enough water - in fact, dehydration was the technical term - but I couldn't worry about that. I made a new friend and we went out for a lunch of pizza and beer. I'd read parts of the oh-so-fabulous In a Sunburned Country on the flight over, so I knew exactly what I wanted; I would be ordering a VB.

In one sip, my mind was changed. This beer had taste. Actual taste. It was the sipping experience of singing the Aladdin favorite, A Whole New World. There was flavor in a chilled beverage with an alcohol content substantially greater than that of American pisswater... I swoon; I pine; I lament the fact that VB is yet to be exported from the magical land of Oz.

To my great delight it wasn't just VB (though my first love remained my true love, to be sure). There was Toohey's New, Coopers, Emu Bitter, XXXX...and those are the ones that 7 years later I still remember off the top of my Aussie-beer-loving head.

And then...I moved to Boston. Home of obscure microbrews (Magic Hat #9, I await our reunion with a thirsty longing) and Sam Adams, my time in Boston cemented that I wasn't just an expatriate beer lover... I was on the road to becoming a beer snob. Me! the daughter of a mother who wouldn't touch the stuff and a father who loved whatever was on sale for the cheapest price!

After college there was a period of time where I was working in Minnesota and living with my parents. On summer nights when I had just battled over an hour of traffic and the sun was still shining down warm rays, I would thrust the car into park, breeze through the garage door and kick off my heels while prying the cap off a cold bottle of Sunshine Wheat, my Boulder contraband that had crossed state lines in the caravan between Colorado and home. More than once my Popi exclaimed during this 30-second routine, "My god! You're such a LADY!"

I would always try my hardest to belch a response, but in lieu of that would settle for something along the lines of, "HELL YEAH I AM."

Since then I've cooled my consumption of carbonated brew in favor of wine. But there's nothing like 3 weeks in Europe to reignite the passion. And there's nothing like 3 weeks in Europe with your snobby-beer-loving-daughter to persuade a Mother who has spent her entire life shunning it, to not only try it, but to LOVE it and become a bit of a snob herself - correctly claiming upon first sip that one particular brand in Prague was "shit."

We tried it all. In each city - a new beer. In Amsterdam and Prague where we spent more time, we would sight-see...take a beer break; museum visit...find a sidewalk cafe for a new beer tasting; shopping...beer break; dinner time...beer time.

When Christmas came this year Teen and I were met with a case of Beck's bottles. It was the beer on tap during our river cruise portion through Europe and now Mom's bev of choice. We drank it out of champagne glasses while getting gussied up for the Christmas Eve festivities. Mascara on!...Cheers! Clink! Gulp! Hair dried!...Cheers! Clink! Gulp! Hey everybody, Popi put on his fancy shoes!...Cheers! Clink! Gulp! Needless to say, it was utterly fantastic.


Then, a few weeks ago during a mini-break in San (read: Man) Diego with Teen, my beer-loving life came full-circle. On a cloudy Saturday afternoon we abandoned window shopping for the cheap thrill of bellying-up to a bar to drink Mexican beer and blather on like the silly twits our fellow belliers might guess we were. But this was not just any dive bar. THIS was the "Sleazy Bar Scene Location" made famous in Tom Cruise's epitome of hotness, Top Gun. THIS was Kansas City Barbeque, where the beers were cheap, multi-sized bras whirl off the edge of ceiling fans and a gal can enjoy it all while sitting across from the aviator helmet (mask?) of the Holiest of Hotties, Maverick. GOD BLESS MAN DIEGO.

But there was more in store...of course there was. There was a little spot of heaven called Bondi Bar, where cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die I found for the FIRST time, Australian beers (besides the dreaded Fosters) for sale on American soil. IF YOU WISH FOR SOMETHING HARD ENOUGH, IT JUST MAY COME TRUE. It wasn't my beloved VB, but it was Tooheys New, which had been the beloved of many dear friends and which I had always found completely acceptable to get myself pissed with.

I DO have respect for beer. Hell yeah I do! So does kissy-face Teen...

Teen didn't know what to do with my euphoria... OVER A BOTTLE OF BEER. She's so used to watching me try to pull my hair out from career-induced stress during my normal life, that the amount of smiling a mini-break + Aussie beer induced was rather startling. So she settled for taking an obscene amount of pictures. It is a fact that grannies don't take as many pictures of kiddies dressed up for Halloween. The first Tooheys New I'd laid eyes on in almost 7 years was subjected to a full-on photo shoot.

My friends from Australia will be so jealous.

Oh yes, I love beer. I love the way that it has peppered my memories of this last decade. And I love the vision that I have, of me and Teen, with white puffy little hairdos, taking photos of VB's triumphant arrival to the States, in what I grimly imagine to be many decades from now. A girl can always hope...

Le sigh.

Prague funnies

I was flipping through folders of pictures when I came across this one and laughed. Again. Every time Mom and I passed one of these posters in Prague I would crack up and the locals would look at me like I'd lost my mind and manners.

Oh, I just love it so!

Europe...The Friends

Oh my, it has been a long week. Work has snowballed into 11 hour days, no lunches, spreading work out on the kitchen table while I wait for leftovers to heat up for dinner and soothing my frustration with glasses of red wine. Eventually, I fall asleep after midnight, sitting up, trying my hardest to stay awake for another chapter of Harry Potter (and I'm not ashamed to say that I love Harry Potter).

I had a fantastic, yet exhausting, weekend to break-up the monotony of being a corporate slave...but that weekend deserves proper mention that I am currently too tired to attempt. For now, I find that all my hazy eyes want to rest on are pictures of my favorite friends from my time in Europe. Ahh...still dreaming of Europe...

In my list of great meals, this lunch in Passau will be in the top 5...

Norm and his harem...(L to R: Elaine, Norm, Diane, Mom, yours truly)

All together now... One of the many dinners where bottles of wine and our laughter made us the 6 noisiest diners

Norman and I making each other laugh, as per usual. Say, "ha! ha!" Bamberg!

Something to the left is captivating me and Elaine

Smile! Al, Diane and Norm

The group meets up again in the town square of Rothenberg

With our other favorite new friend, Valentin

And, with my #1 girl, Mom

So tonight, I guess I raise my glass of vino and toast those friends out there who have been a wonderful surprise this past year. To Norm and Diane in Los Angeles, Al and Elaine in Detroit, and my mother, who I'm sure is missing me constantly dragging her around on foot while trying to read German signs, I dedicate my exhausted evening of sappiness to you, my dear travel companions.

One day, you find yourself at LAX dreading the many hours between you and Prague, wondering how your mother and you are going to survive each other for 3 weeks...when suddenly, those 3 weeks are gone, you're back at LAX and you've hugged friends goodbye who you now can't imagine life without. And no 26 year old goes to Europe expecting to hang out with 5 people all over the age of 60, much less to love every second of it.

It's like I said to Teen this weekend, "Life is funny." You just never know what you're going to get if you go with the flow.

What flow am I meant to be going with today? Hmm...

Europe...The Food

I adore pictures of food. The colors. The memory of laughter shared over that particular meal. The mindset that what you are about to indulge in looks so fantastic, you want to capture it in a photograph.

I wanted to take pictures of everything during my few weeks in Europe. Sometimes I forgot, just diving right in. Luckily, sometimes I remembered.

Vibrant fruits in Passau, Germany

Beers sipped on a sunny afternoon in Amsterdam

A latte with sugar cubes in Vienna

An unexpected pineapple in Nuremberg

Sitting on the sidewalk with chocolate and hazelnut gelato

Yum.