Because it’s the best place on earth. Because my favorite people are there. Because of the energy. Because I just do.
Photo courtesy of James Hirtenstein, 3/18/2013
well, that was fast…
As of today, I have officially been in Las Vegas for six months. 6 MONTHS. Half of a year. Whoa.
I actually can’t believe it. I still tell people I “just” moved here. And while it’s true that I’m pretty new in town, it’s been a lot longer than it feels. Being busy really does make time fly by.
Driving to get lunch today, I took a moment to look around and was really quite awed at the crazy twists and turns my life have taken. This time last year, I was back in NYC, nursing a broken heart after a splitting from my ex husband by dating the wrong guys, going out way too much – and loving every second. I felt brave for taking risks and not being scared to jump, always confident that the net would appear. It always has.
Sure, there were many painful moments but what I really learned was that it was time for me to live my life the way I really, truly wanted to. No excuses, no regrets. I adored – and still adore – my ex but we wanted different things and had different paths. I knew I wasn’t being authentic to myself by staying in that relationship. as difficult as it was, it was like I had been given a second chance to get it right. Or at least “righter.”
The opportunity to move to Vegas really happened so fast, I barely had time to think about it, which was most definitely a good thing. I would have overthought it and freaked myself out and not come. I had no idea what to expect and while I was so happy to be back in NYC after 3 years in Florida, I also knew I was in a rut in and needed some massive change. The universe always gives us what we need, when we need it most. It’s pretty amazing. (yes, I went to yoga three times this week)
So here I am. Who knows how long I’ll stay or what will happen next but there is no time to think about that now – I have events to plan, friends to see, dogs to play with, yoga classes to attend, wine to drink. I’m just letting life take me where it thinks I need to be. And I’m excited to see what the next 6 months will bring…
finding time
It’s been almost a full month since I last checked in with this blog and I can’t explain how unhappy that makes me. I am basically good at multitasking and can take on a lot of different projects at once. But when it comes to sitting down to type – to open up my mind and heart – it just doesn’t come as easy. I find myself pushing it off: “I’ll do it tomorrow,” I ALWAYS says. The next thing I know, tomorrow is a month and I’m upset about it.
I love sitting down and sharing my thoughts, even if no one ever reads it. It feels cathartic. When I go too long without opening up, I start to feel blocked and anxious. I crave the release. After all, I am a writer.
Above all else, this blog is a way for me to stay in touch with friends and family at home and beyond. I have had a bunch of people tell me they like reading it to know where and am and what I’m doing.
Unfortunately, life gets in the way. My job is unbelievably time consuming and, at times, demanding. I also have an almost OCD relationship with working out – I must do SOMETHING active everyday, usually a long walk with my dog Riley on the Strip. If a day goes by without it, I feel insane. There are also the sporadic yoga classes which I’m working on being better about attending – but more on that later. I’ve also been going hiking as much as possible but even that stresses me out sometimes. I find myself getting agitated while driving to the trail and wondering if there was something better I should be doing with my time. I’m always happy once I’m doing it by sometimes getting there is the hardest part.
Aside from the work and workouts, there is weekly therapy (much-needed in this massively unbalanced city), research for an exciting new side project, impromptu road trips to LA, entertaining the ever-present (and much-welcomed!) out of town guests, phone calls with friends back East and, of course, many nights out. Too many? I’m trying to be better and stay home here and there, to catch up on the New Yorker, blogging and sitting still. It happens rarely. There is always something more fun, more interesting to do.
Plus, I’m still pretty new in town and meeting interesting people all of the time. Las Vegas is full of intriguing stories. I love hearing them all.
But I’m making the effort and doing the best I can. Hopefully soon I will find a routine that will give me some more free time. Hopeful but doubtful.
I just hope I can devote so more time to writing, opening up and slowing down, especially since it’s always what makes me feel the most balanced, calm and connected.
solo and strong
It’s Valentine’s Day. And I truly couldn’t care less.
In all honesty, I stopped getting worked up on February 14th sometime after college. And before that, it was something I “celebrated” only because it was what everyone else was doing. Plus, I had a string of non-stop boyfriends from the time I was 13 until this past September, with four months being the longest period of time I was ever single.
Now, I am embracing it for the first time – EVER.
No, it’s not even funny. I have not been single since I was 13 years old. I went from boyfriend to boyfriend to boyfriend to husband to boyfriend. Some overlapped, when I was young and dumb. I dated multiple Justins and countless Mikes. But I definitely never had a night to myself. The idea of going to sleep or making weekend plans without first checking in with someone was beyond my comprehension.
When I got the offer to come to Las Vegas for my current job, I was dating someone. I really, really liked him too. But I also really, really wanted this job and so I had a big decision to make: stay on the same path and keep putting boys first, or do something different for once and make myself the priority.
I chose option number two.
It has been terrifying and lonely and exciting and freeing. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. For the first time in 21 years (!!) I am single and truly on my own. I have amazing people in my life and an amazing life, but for now, no one super special. I am finally focusing on myself. My therapist is thrilled. Sometimes I like it; sometimes I miss the implied companionship. Mostly, I am adjusting.
Today marks 5 months since I moved, left behind a relationship I really wanted to work and said goodbye to all of my friends and came to Vegas to try something new.
Me.
Why I Miss NYC: Reason #3
I have spent the last 3 1/2 out of 5 years living away from NYC. And every single time it has snowed in the city during my time away, I’ve been heartbroken about missing it.
Growing up in New York, winters were filled with snowy days. I remember one year, when I was 5 or so, the snow was about six feet high (or at least, that’s how I recall it). My dad shoveled for hours to make a walkable path and it still towered above me. I was in awe.
It happened again when I was a senior in high school – it snowed so much that I was trapped inside with no car and eventually got so painfully bored that I walked almost 3 miles to my then-boyfriend Dan’s house. I had cabin fever. Not much has changed.
There was nothing quite like waking up to a flurry of flakes, and hearing the amazing news that there was a three-hour delay. Snow days? Forget it. I was in pure bliss. It meant a day outside with friends, sledding at Webb Field and a hot chocolate waiting when I got home.
Being a skier since I could walk, I also looked forward to powdery weekends on the slopes – of course, until I got old enough to want to spend weekends drinking in suburban parking lots with my friends instead…
When I got older and moved to Manhattan, the snow was just as exciting. No car meant no stress. Snow was inconvenient in some ways, but it was always someone else’s problems to clear it away and well, that’s what Hunter boots are for. And there is nothing – NOTHING – quite like walking down the middle of a deserted Houston Street with no cars or people around to ruin the moment.
But then I spent 3 years in South Florida which meant absolutely no hope of inclement weather, hurricanes excluded.
After three years away, I finally spent all of last year back in New York City. And winter came. And it got cold. But we never had a real storm. I longed for a storm, so I could stroll in Central Park or have a cozy brunch at The Standard. The guy I was dating and I would make plans for what we would do when the storm finally hit and we could spend a day cuddled in bed, watching movies and eating take-out from Sea.
It never happened.
Now I’m in Las Vegas and the outlook for flurries is just as unlikely. The difference is that, unlike South Florida, it gets COLD here. Like, really cold. And the wind is way worse than anything I’ve ever experienced in NYC. I can see the snow-capped peaks of Mount Charleston from the balcony of my apartment but I’m pretty certain it will never reach the Strip.
Now another winter is here – and once again, I’m gone. Last week was especially tough. There was one of those stay-at-home-for-days kind of storms and I watched as my Manhattan-based friends posted Instagram and Facebook photos of the enviable whiteout. The tree-lined streets of the West Village were picture perfect, with no one outside to disrupt the beauty of it. I wished I was sitting at the Spotted Pig or Bell, Book and Candle sipping too many glasses of red wine with my most adventurous friends. It made me miss home.
juiced, part two
Las Vegas is making me fat.
Fine, not fat, but I will admit that it’s much harder to stay in shape here. For one, I drive places which cuts down on my walking time. And there are a million amazing restaurants serving up middle America, tourist-sized portions in my backyard. It’s a recipe for a diet disaster.
Since moving here almost 5 months ago, I’ve gained about 4 pounds. I know it’s not much, but I can tell. And even though I chug a green juice, a shot of E3 and some Cod Liver Oil every morning, I just can’t get back to my NYC weight. Back when I was living in Manhattan, I ate a bagel with cream cheese every single day and managed to drop two jean sizes. It’s amazing how getting in the car instead of pounding the pavement can have such an effect.
Plus, I love food. I’m generally pretty healthy but put a plate of pasta or French fries in front of me and forget it. I always have good intentions and swear I will just have the salad when I walk into dinner. Next thing I know, I’ve lost all control and there’s a side of truffle mac and cheese of which I promise myself I’ll just have a bite.
Basically, Vegas has stripped me of some self-control.
But right after New Year’s, I decided to become a cliche and do a 3-day juice cleanse with my friend Mike. This is not my first cleanse – I’ve done BluePrint and Organic Avenue and my friend Marisa from Delray beach’s custom Superfood smoothie program. But it had been a while and I needed something to shock me back to skinny.
As always, I dropped about 6 pounds in 72 hours. My stomach was once again concave and my skinny jeans were baggy. I felt like Mary Kate Olsen – in a good way.
But of course once I started eating again, I was like a runaway train.
So I’m back to my pre-Vegas routine – just eating really healthy, small portions all the time and not acting like it’s the lat time I’ll ever see food. There is no easy solution. The only way to do it is to eat less and move more.
It’s been 3 days and I’m down a half a pound. Since I’m not looking to lose much – maybe 5 pounds total – I know it’s going to be really annoying, but it’s almost pool season in Vegas and if that’s not motivation, I don’t know what is…
back from the dead
Well, it took me an actual month to recover from New Years. That and a few other disasters, but really New Years. And the aftermath, which I won’t get into here.
Being from NYC, I’ve had my share of crazy December 31st nights. Most years were spent bartending at Ava Penthouse at the Dream Hotel in midtown – where I made at least one rent payment and drank my weight in Patron – but nothing could have prepped me for the insanity of Las Vegas on New Years Eve.
First of all, it wasn’t just one night. It was 4…in a row. Til like 4 am every night. By the big night, I was dead. But considering we had newly impregnated Kim Kardashian and my secret crush Kanye showing up at 1 OAK to ring in 2013, I had to rally. Also, because it’s my job.
So off to the party I went. Since it was less than 24 hours after Kim announced that she was expecting, the red carpet was, well, slammed. And this happened.
But all went well, and the party was a huge hit (Leo, anyone?) but since I was working, I had exactly half of a shot. Still, I had a blast with my BFF from home, Jon, and my girls from work, Stephanie and Christina. There were party hats.
After the night was done and the pitching was complete, it was time to have a little fun. So off to the Cosmo I went. It was 9am when I started REALLY drinking. But since it’s Vegas, I was not out of place. My work friends came to meet up and we got the party restarted. And then it was off to the after party at my poker player neighbor Antonio’s apartment. He wasn’t even home but the party was raging nonetheless. I finally fell into bed sometime around noon.
After a quick nap, we rallied and hit the Wynn buffet where I ate about 10 plates of king crab legs. I never removed my sunglasses and wanted to sleep for a week but alas, it was party weekend. And so back to 1 OAK again that night.
I finally knew what a Vegas bender was. And it only took me a month to recover…
January sucks.
No, seriously. Worst month ever. I’ll be reentering society again in February…
Reason I Like Vegas: #7
Because even in the winter, when it’s freezing cold, the sun is always shining. And sometimes the sky looks like this. #nofilter #allnatural
it’s beginning to look…nothing at all like Christmas
The weirdest part about being in Las Vegas for Christmas is, well, everything.
Even though I’ve really been enjoying my time here lately, there is just something really really strange about being in Sin City over the holidays. It’s a town where everything feel slightly manufactured and Xmas is the ultimate example of that. Sure, there is snow at Town Square (when they decide to make it, that is) and an ice skating rink at the Cosmo. And while I appreciate the effort, it just feels wrong.
I tried really hard to get into the holiday spirit this year – I even bought a Xmas tree and set it up (with lights and ornaments!) in my apartment. Which everyone knows is a huge deal for me considering I am not the sentimental type.
And while I wasn’t able to make it back to NYC for the holidays – with NYE just a week away, there was no chance of me leaving town and being relaxed with all of the insanity of next weekend – I was psyched that my mom came out to visit, which I thought would make things feel a bit more festive. It didn’t.
We did everything possible to feel Christmas-y: the Bellagio tree, a showing of The Nutcracker (my favorite from when I was a kid) and even lots of last-minute holiday shopping with the masses. Still, nothing.
Last year, I spent Xmas Eve at The Spotted Pig with mulled wine, gnudi, two of my favorite people and the smell of bitter cold
in the air. Every New Yorker knows that smell: it’s almost a little smokey and is just so distinct. Ah. We ran into a few more people we knew and it felt like our own little private holiday party. I stumbled home late, down the tree-lined streets of the West Village with a smile on my face, even though the holidays weren’t the easiest for me last year.
And while it is just as cold here in Las Vegas (FACT) and way windier, the air still doesn’t have the same wintery feel. I mean, there are PALM TREES! And stale casino air.
But I’m not mad at Vegas for it – it just is what it is. So I decided to stop trying so hard and just accept things for what they are.
Instead of a traditional Christmas Day celebration, my mom and I had breakfast at the Bagel Cafe (thanks to the Jews for being open!) and then went out to The Valley of Fire for a scenic drive. It was stunning and a great experience, even if there was nothing about it to get me into the spirit.
Alas, I am so grateful for everything in my life and have never been one to care that much about holidays anyway. Plus, there’s always next year… at The Pig, of course.
Going Confidently 