keeping it simple

The inside of the house looked like a tornado hit it today: The massive cardboard box from the range we picked up at Best Buy sat in the middle of the living room floor, embellished with scarves, blankets, dog toys - anything that would make its new incarnation as a secret fort more complete; half-finished homework covered the coffee table while the afternoon light from the west-setting sun pressed through the slats of the blinds. And the ottoman...The ottoman was awash in cat books (felines being daughter's long time obsession). My (paying) work for the day was nearly finished, and I had my babies with me (I'll still be calling them that when they have families of their own, I'm sure). In short, life was complete.

The three of us sat sprawled on the couch like a pile of puppies, and we just talked. Son asked if I'd ever experienced a natural disaster, like a hurricane or a tornado. I told him I hadn't been through either of those, but there was the '89 Loma Prieta quake, which I experience firsthand as a new employee at the Pacific Garden Mall in Santa Cruz, which was largely destroyed that day, twenty years ago this October. Then the conversation shifted to the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, where my grandfather lived. He was just a boy right about the age my son is now, and my mother tells me that, shortly after the quake hit, he was running down the street carrying the precious family portrait, since each person basically had time to carry just one thing.

I know time isn't something you can carry in a literal sense. It's fleeting and resistant to any human effort to control it. But I'll tell you this: If time could be carried, if it could be removed from danger and taken elsewhere, that half hour on the couch today would be the kind of thing you'd see clutched in my arms as I ran toward safety.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the reasons for vegas

I've discovered that there are many reasons to head for Vegas, which is ironic, considering the fact that I used to loathe the very thought of Sin City. The main reason for visiting seems to have to do with casting all cares aside and heading toward the showiest adult playground to be found anywhere (done that). Then, of course, there's the getting-married-by-Elvis-in-a-chapel-off-the-Strip reason (haven't done that, though I know people who did get married there (not by The King)). There's getting away with the girlfriends for a no holds barred weekend of lounging and dressing up and occasionally making a fool of one's self (I strongly resemble that remark). And then there are the family get-togethers (ditto). This time, I found myself focusing on the sights - specifically, the sights to be found behind glass in the bakeries and Gelato shops:


The artistry is intense, and the confections prove to be treats for all the senses, not just the tastebuds



When you stare up at the ceiling in the lobby of the Venetian, you feel like you're right smack dab in the middle of the Vatican, and the fact that the hotel was chock-full of Italians might attest to its authenticity. As a friend pointed out, though, it does seem a bit odd to travel to another country and seek out a hotel that is basically a replica of your homeland.


Over at the Bellagio, there is a fairly amazing Conservatory of Flowers that makes such a nice getaway from the hustle and bustle of the casino and shops (even if the miraculous concoction that is the Chocolate Nut Martini is located there in the Baccarat Bar). I also noticed that people start smiling these serene, joyous smiles as soon as they walk into the conservatory - and it's not an expression that's easy to find on the casino floor, where faces tend to look much more distracted and glazed over. There are flowers, butterflies and birds galore in the conservatory, including these lorakeets (I'm pretty sure that's what this is):

There's also a hypnotic, glass waterball. I want one in my sunroom.

And, did I mention that Gelato reigns as far as the eye can see?

Who knows what the reason for my next trip to Vegas will be. But this one was a fun getaway. And, as an Italian man sitting behind us on a bench as we all waited for our vehicles said (in Italian - my mom translated): "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

"Not for you it doesn't," answered his wife.

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