Where the magic happened.

It was 10 years ago today that my wife and I were married. You owe me twenty bucks, Sam.

We were wed in the middle of a very public area, a cobblestone and grass square surrounded by friends, family and hundreds of people I would never see again.

The venue was Trail Dust Town, a mock old west community nestled into the heart of Tucson, an actual old west community. The ceremony was held in front of the Savoy Opera House, in which we proceeded to stomp once the wedding ended.

Trail Dust Town offers the very tasty Pinnacle Peak Steakhouse, a fun gunslinger shootout and a lot of memories. There’s also a place for putt-putt golf (and stuff) right around the corner. What’s not to love?

Ten years is a long time and it is the blink of the eye. Our travels since then have led us from city to city, and our nomadic journey continues still — we’re moving back to L.A. (from Seattle) next month. There is no rest for the wicked. Or us.

Ten good years. And counting.

This post was supposed to be a Wordless Wednesday entry, but I got carried away.

Photo: Someone at my wedding.

Mustard, please.

The Fourth of July is right around the corner and the food is right on the grill! Also, beer. The night may belong to fireworks, but the day belongs to friends, family and fun in the sun.

This post is a Wordless Wednesday entry with some words right beneath it. It happens.

Photo: Mike Johnson – TheBusyBrain.com

You don’t get a lot of sleep when there are 5 people on the bus. But you do get a lot of laughs. Sleep you can find anywhere, so it’s a fair enough trade. All of us except Tim, who’s been fighting off something for the past few days, got up early. Robin, Kate and I dropped off Collin to go try and quickly download an iPhone app for his golf (in)ability before playing 18 and we headed over to the Lower 9th Ward, which is – if you don’t know – the hardest hit area of Katrina. Read More »

There’s something mysterious when you pull into Louisiana…whether you know it or not. We got up and – thanks to the disapproving looks of the locals, who no doubt heard Tim & I last night singing along to the newest Darkness album around 3am – found the way through our haze to unplug that which needed to be unplugged and dump that which needed to be dumped and get on the road.

Louisiana, as mentioned, seems to carry its own blanket of both old-fashioned mystique and an even more-rooted general dislike of things different to what has become the norm. The gas station we pulled up to not only did not carry my new found favorite cigarettes, but met my fancy request with a raised eyebrow. Tim fought back with his own form of vigilante by winning $4 on video poker. Had it not been for the dilated stares of the No-Doz chewing truckers, he might have stayed longer.

While it might seem repetitive, this rewarding backdrop with the characters that want to make you work for it, it’s simply how things seem to work around here.

Another problem that we’ve faced, and will continue to face, is the fact that while my friends trust me, they don’t believe me. For example, I’m sure Collin trusted me when I said that the photos of the bus do not do justice to the actual size of the bus, which resulted in us not only saying more than one prayer for the satellite mounted on top while driving through his neighborhood, but in Collin and I having to pull out both the ladder and hacksaw from his Father’s garage to make room. T&R fell prey to this problem as well. They’ve been warned about Collin’s love of food, even laughed at the previous story of his, but didn’t believe me enough.

The meal helped them understand. Read More »