WEATHER WATCHING WORLDWIDE!

Being from England, where complaining about the weather is considered a National pastime, I have of course wasted my fair share of energy participating in this pointless distraction.
     When I was in London and it was cold and raining, I would spend hours (that I should have been working) surfing through travel websites and drooling over pictures of warm, exotic locations that I should have been in.
     Then I would run to the store and waste money I barely had on playing the lottery, trying to win money to go on holiday with.
     I never won.
     Interestingly enough however, when the summertime rolled around, it was like winter never happened… so one day, I decided to save myself the weekly distress of weather watching by moving to Las Vegas – the desert.
     And like many naïve folks who had watched Aladdin as a kid, I thought that it stayed hot in the desert all year round.
     I mean, at what point in the film did Aladdin or Jasmine ever wear a winter coat?
     I first arrived in Las Vegas in the middle of the sweltering July heat at 3am (don’t ask); I got cooked so fast, my poor sweat glands have not fully recovered.
     It also came as a rude surprise later that year in November, when it started getting cold and by January, even the usually bikini clad bunch were fully covered up.
     I don’t know what it is about the weather that keeps me engaged, but I guess the point of this rant is that it should never rain or be cold in Las Vegas.
     Just saying!

 

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

I THOUGHT THERE WERE NO MOSQUITOS IN VEGAS!

When I first arrived in Las Vegas over three years ago during the height of the cloying summertime heat I got two surprises!
     One pleasant and one unpleasant.
     The unpleasant surprise was that the heat took away my ability to blink comfortably without breaking into a sweat.
     The pleasant surprise was the absence of mosquitoes, or rather my making it through the summertime without falling victim to these greedy little parasites!
     For two magical summers I (rightfully) kept my blood to myself but for reasons unknown to me, in the summer of 2013 a gang of stray mosquitoes has magically appeared in my house and I have spent more time than needs to be admitted chasing them around, trying to get rid.
     Sometimes I glimpse my murderous face in the mirror as I smack every surface trying to kill, kill, KILL one!
     You see, I have always considered mosquitoes to be the lowest form of severe irritation since I, myself was a source of annoyance to my parents' insecure attention-seeking friends.
     This is because for some reason every mosquito in whatever country, finds my blood to be a particularly tasty treat.
     Meaning, I have to wake up with an average of three new bites every morning... though I wonder if it is one little drain bag doing all the work or it is a collective dogs-in-heat situation, where if one gets a go then everyone else has to mark a spot too!
     Usually I feel guilty when I kill a bug even accidentally, but I will gladly hand mosquitoes over without a second thought!

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

 

MASS TRANSITS & FOWL ODORS!

Depending on which city one lives in, public transport (or mass transit systems in some circles) can be classified as one or a combination of four things:

1. A luxury - 2. A necessity - 3. An adventure - 4. A what...?

 
Having lived in London, served my time in Washington DC, Los Angeles and now happily settled in Las Vegas, I have sampled each city's attempt at accommodating the mobile but car-free/car-less population.
     Which has brought me to one conclusion: mass transit systems undoubtedly boast a complete and diverse buffet of interesting characters, odors and goings on that private transport couldn't even begin to live through.
     From the harassed looking twenty-something with a stained shirt, to the over-worked middle aged two jobber who snores and drools on horrified foreign exchange students.
     “People watching” on trains, buses and even on planes can keep even a seasoned Attention Deficit Disorder sufferer occupied for days.
     There is however, a downside to being sardine stuffed in enclosed spaces with individuals one wouldn't otherwise invite to a pajama party:
     Odor!
     Mass transit systems are notorious for harboring some of the most offensive smelling individuals that any city has to offer.
     You know, the types who dare to leave their homes without honoring their showers with a visit but love to share odors that slide up one's nose and make it hurt!
     Basically, if a living human being's odor can justifiably be labeled as “rotten” then that is a situation that promptly needs handling with a scenty bar of soap!
     I complain about this because many a time I have found myself unceremoniously trapped with pungent individuals who are otherwise blissfully unaware of the stink they are causing.
     Seriously, at what point does one's nose become immune to the power of smell?

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com

BUFFET vs. TO GO BOXES

I remember the first time I went to a buffet: I was on a date and we had just seen a movie that I'd slept through parts of.
     It was a pitiful time in my life when I didn't yet understand “buffet etiquette”, otherwise known as “stuff your face here and then get out”, empty-handed.
     As a shameless foodie, I obviously ate more than anybody should be allowed in one sitting and then decided to ask for a “to go” box, so that I could fill it to overcapacity and overeat later.
     When the waiter told me they didn't give out “doggie bags”, I got (understandably) upset and allowed my stomach to speak for me... or rather to argue that I should have one because I still had a plate full of food that I could not put back or throw away because let's face it, that's just an unnecessary waste!
     Twenty minutes later, my date and I walked out of there with our heads held high and a napkin written ban from the restaurant.
     Fast forward years later and I suddenly find myself holding onto an empty plate for dear life, confused and afraid of getting knocked over while trying to decide what to eat at a buffet in Las Vegas.
     After that chaotically traumatic experience I think I would prefer limited choices and an option to take a box home...
     Just saying.

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

AIN'T NO MOUNTAN HIGH ENOUGH!

“Ain't No Mountain High Enough” – this is lies!
     Forget the part that comes next; just pay attention to this one deceiving statement.
     For someone who was once blissfully unaware that they were not exactly fond of heights, these kinds of statements can give one the false confidence not needed to decide to go and climb a mountain.
     Anyone who has ever set foot in Las Vegas will have made an obvious note that mountains frame the perimeter of the city.
     Yes, everywhere you look, in every direction there are mountains!
     And since we all have subconscious minds that have no ability to determine what information is necessary to hold onto and what information should be discarded but instead holds on to everything it ever comes across and stores it.
     Is it any wonder that sooner or later one begins to entertain the “clever” idea that climbing a mountain is the thing to do?
     Going up wasn't a problem (getting into trouble never is), considering that all I did was look down at the two feet in front of me that consisted of nothing more interesting than a beaten dirt path.
     It was when my hiking buddies decided to play tour guides and point out the “views” that my sense of logic abandoned me, while I clung onto the idea that I was going to suddenly plunge to my death (even though both feet were firmly planted on the ground and if I lay down with both my arms above my head, every part of me would still be touching “ground” – not the point!).
     Coming down the mountain was yet another challenge: "how can a two legged person temporarily function like a four legged animal?"
     Never again!

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com