Growing up my great grandad was this untouchable figure-head, who appeared almost god like in my young eyes. He was a depression-era farmer who raised 8 children in a two bedroom house with little more than a firm hand and mischievous smile. He was Grant Wood's American Gothic come to life.

To his grandchildren and great-grandchildren he was a scruffy-faced, candy-loving gruff who teased, and tickled, and loved unconditionally. Despite the threadbareness of his pockets his generosity only seemed to grow as he aged, and it was always bestowed unexpectedly. On one such occasion he gave my mom a little money to spend on my siblings and I at Christmas.

My mom carefully picked out a small gift for each of us, wrapped it, and placed it under the tree with a tag that said "From: great grandad." I opened my soft package to reveal the prettiest red slipper socks with white snowflakes on the feet. My 8 year-old heart squealed with delight as I slipped them on and pranced around the living room. It was the perfect gift, and an instant treasure. One I still hold on to 20 years later.

The slippers are stretched a little thin, and the snowflakes have begun to fade, but every time I look at them I think of an idol of mine and just how much he meant to my family and to me. He may not have picked the gift out, but he is still the gift's source and for that reason they'll always be grandad's slipper socks. A gift that only get's better with age. -b.

(You can see a little bekuh tucked in next to the man himself, in the old photograph above.)

I think we may have found our new rental! After a tedious search that I may or may not have gone a little crazy over, we saw a little house last week we're both smitten on. We've put the application in and fingers crossed we'll hear back this week. Promise to cross yours too?

It's got a yard, a basement with a washer and dryer, and the sweetest little layout. It's not big, but the whole house will be ours! I can't tell you how grown up that makes me feel, how secure in knowing that our future is headed somewhere with a house in it. I have that same feeling I did last year, a feeling like we're on the cusp of so many wonderful things.

Of course my over active imagination is decorating, and redecorating each room in my mind I've got at least 50 things I want to buy, 20 I want to refurbish and loads I'm ready to kick to the curb in pursuit of something better. But hold on a minute, didn't I just say we don't even have the place yet?

I'm always getting ahead of myself on projects like these, when I should step back a minute and savor the little things first. Those tiny details that get overshadowed in all the excitement, like the ones I mentioned just two paragraphs before. I want to get caught up in the details and cherish them, not hurry the process along. Something I have to remind myself constantly.

You may ask what a fiddle fig has to do with all this? I was mulling over the subject of details in my living room and looked over at our little tree and thought how pretty it was. I got really close to the plant and noticed the marvelous veins on all the leaves. From afar they're pretty to look at but to see just how miraculous they truly are you have to get really really close. The details are what make them special, just like the details of life. - b.

So I'm going to brag for a minute, it was in the high 50s - low 60s the entire time I was in Vegas. Even at night. I can't tell you how nice it was to escape the snow and freezing temperatures for a minute. I was able to go out in my pleather jacket (no vegan leather for me) and sandals the entire time. You forget how much easier it is to get around when you're not under 100 layers. Now that I'm back to bundling up I can say that with levity. But, back to Las Vegas by moonlight.

My favorite thing to do after the sun went down was well, two things. First I love going into the different lobbies of the casinos and eyeing the amazing marble work, art, and architectural design that went on for miles. These places see a ton of traffic, so you know this has to be the real deal and not the faux crap we build our houses with. The second image of the post is the ceiling in the Bellagio lobby, I'm still speechless.

My second favorite thing to do under the moonlight was watch the water shows in the lake outside the Bellagio (can you tell I liked the Bellagio yet?). They were incredible! The fountains are programmed to perform a choreographed dance to songs from the likes of Celine Dion and Frank Sinatra. The best part is that they run every hour from like 5-11pm and they're free. It fulfilled some unknown hole in my 13 year old self's heart.

I tried to see the show at Treasure Island too, but unfortunately they were closed. I waited for 20 minutes and someone who worked there kindly filled me in. I guess I'l just have to go back. I think that's probably my takeaway from Las Vegas, I have to go back.

I don't gamble, don't drink a lot, and I kind of hate buffets. You'd think this was the last place on the planet I'd want to visit again, but there's so much more to it. In between the poker and prostitutes there's a vast world of things to see and do and a whole different culture to experience. There are art shows, street performers, locals with a million stories, and museums I haven't even begun to investigate. Next time I'm bringing Ryan though, that way I can stay out past 8pm and see that much more.  

Wonder what else I was up to in Vegas? Check out my instagram or feel free to ask me any questions you might have! - b.