Last week, though (like the bad little blogger I’ve been lately) I only just realized, marked five years for me as a blogger. Reflecting on that time, both upon blogging and the content on which I write, I’ve experienced quite a bit of Life over those years…

I fell in love. And out of love.

I went to London, Jamaica, the Dominican Republic- twice, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Napa, Seattle, Alaska, Las Vegas, and South Carolina. And New York- how could I forget New York?- again and again and again.

I met a boy. And another one. And then another one. Until there came the one who’s stuck by me- so far at least.

I got a dog and am convinced within myself I’ve met my soul mate.

I wrote letters to Jessica Simpson and openly adored Tina Fey.

I got fucking WHOOPING COUGH like it’s the Eighteenth century or some junk, birthed a kidney stone as though I’m some infirm old fucker, and managed to garner food poisoning while stranded in Vegas for 48 hours after a flight cancellation.

I observed and questioned motherhood first hand. I feared babies and their ability to, like bees, smell that fear.

I gave voice to my angst for pregnant smokers, Drunk Bus, Facebook, Icky Couples and other such Toolbags.

I threw a pity parade for myself as friends got engaged, married, had babies, and moved on.

I swore a lot and not always as a result of Who the Fuck is Sharon.

I fell into a depression. And I admitted the one thing I’ve always kept secret and for which I still feel ashamed.

I authored posts about which I am proud and not so proud, and still others I have, at times, felt disappointed went nearly without comment.

I celebrated birthdays and turned 30. Then realized, holy fuck, I’m now IN my thirties!

I bitched about work and covered my ass by requiring a password as my blog took on a more “real life” following.

I said good bye.

I wrote and I didn’t write. And other times I wanted to, but avoided what needed (still needs) writing.

I discovered Twitter and became completely addicted.

I left my home of six years and moved in with a man for the first time in my life.

I baked, took calligraphy, made Thanksgiving turkeys, and ugly Christmas sweaters.

I met other bloggers and became close with several others, and others still whom I have yet to meet in person but hope to one day soon. I greatly admired/ still admire several others from afar.

I Dressed for Dinner.

I found inner peace. Other times, not so much.

I drank. A. Lot. Of. Wine.

I allowed two people and 60 minutes to throw me into what wound up being a mid-life crisis that I still wrestle with some days.

I moved from Blogspot to WordPress and became “Nic Narrates,” then rebranded with my own site.

I contended with the Bathroom Troll. And other related topics.

I mourned for those bloggers who blogged off into the sunset…Charming But Single, Petite Anglais, Anonymous Coworker, Little Red Cape, Ashton Likes, and Surving Myself.

I wrote the things I cannot say to my dad, my mother, my brothers, and my grandfather.

Five years.

In five years, I grew to embrace blogging, found my voice, and began to identify myself as a writer foremost. I’ve been heartbroken, infatuated, furious, defeated, whimsical, sarcastic, jaded, humorous, naive, envious, and sentimental.

In five years, I’ve let you in, let you “know” me. Let you have a bit of myself and tried always to be honest with you despite the discomfort of knowing who else may be reading.

Thank you for indulging me (and my obnoxiously nostalgic links). More than anything, thank you for joining me along the way.

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There was a faint coolness in the air as I slipped my sandals off and stepped, pensively, onto the fenced-in and manicured grass; barefooted and in want of a pedicure. The grass was slick beneath my toes from the overnight rains. And the locust tree branches overhead sprinkled their storm remnants upon my shoulders where I stood.

Seagulls and other such birds were drown out by the rush of the morning city traffic as cars and trucks and motorcycles splashed through the burdensome puddles. I closed my eyes and listened. And remembered.

I remembered a place and a morning, not unlike this one, though far away both in time and distance. I remembered the sunrise spot. That beach. Those waves. The cluster of palm trees. Coarse sand. And there was this same pale, pastel sky. Same coolness of air before the day’s heat.

That place only exists now in my memory; torn down to make way for a modern and posher resort for other travelers to marvel at other sunrises. My “happy place” no longer. Twice I stood upon that sand and that beach before it slipped away.

This morning, I stood on the edge of a memory and returned.

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Fast-forward to four weeks ago and my plane was touching down at the Vegas airport. My cab whisked me off to the hotel I said I’d always stay at if I ever came back: the Bellagio. I had my dinner reservation all set at Olives and my ticket to Cirque de Soleil’s “O” later that evening. I had a day to myself before the Bloggers in Sin City festivities truly got underway and I was a bundle of nerves and excitement. Amongst the bloggers who had signed up to attend, there were several I’d been reading for years, of which I’d only actually ever met Jenn, the Mayor of the Josh Lyman Tiger Sex Den.

It’s a funny thing meeting other bloggers for the first time. I’m always worried they’ll think I’m not at all who I seem to be online. That they’ll think I look dumpy or that I’m boring or, worst of all, that they’ll find other people who are more energetic, happier, or more outgoing to talk to instead of me. I want to be liked by these people I admire, who make me laugh, whose word choices I fawn over, and whose confidence I observe and marvel at…and okay, envy. But, from every other blogger I’ve met already in Chicago, I’ve learned that generally they are one of the most welcoming and accepting groups of people I’ve had the luck to encounter in my lifetime.

So, when I hurried up to my room later that day after seeing “O” and knocked expectantly at the door, I was gushing with anticipation to meet the girl I’d invited to stay with me. Brandy was the first blogger I’d meet at BiSC and she and I quickly became brand new besties just as I’d always thought we’d be! When we decided to room together for the weekend, I confided I felt like the coolest girl in the world because my roomie was her. I still do.

Together, we had a hoot of a time talking about meeting other bloggers, catching up on the drama in our lives that we aren’t writing about right now, and planning a trek to Mandalay Bay’s Shark Reef the next day where we would run in front of a motion camera, making wavelike ripples against an ocean backdrop and spend upwards of 40 minutes petting sting rays.

In the days that followed, Brandy informed me that American monies are “confusing because they’re all the same color and you have to actually look at the number on them,” whereas her Canadian monies are bright and colorful and “made of hope and free health care!” Don’t worry- I called her a whore and slapped her, and then promptly wound up leaving my carry-on bag in the back of the cab as we checked into the Flamingo (which I actually got back when the cab driver found Nicole’s phone number inside and called her and she called me and informed me that “Some cab driver totally has your shit and wants to give it back to you so call him back here’s his number and you probably won’t be able to understand him at all but call him okay I’ll see you soon bye!” Nicole talks really fucking fast and is, of course, awesome not only because she planned the whole BiSC thing but also just, you know, in general).

And then I did finally meet Nicole. And so many other bloggers that the whole experience became a dash overwhelming. I hurried to hug many an almost-stranger and butt into conversations because I was overly excited to actually meet the person behind the blog. Which, let me send my deepest thanks right this minute to Jess for telling Katelin about me and asking her to keep an eye out for me!

That night at the meet and greet, Brandy and I spent several hours unabashedly wearing balloon hats on our heads as we introduced ourselves, and if that’s not a conversation starter right there I don’t know what is! From the people I met that night and the days that followed, I have so many memories and things to smile and laugh about…

Brandy’s destroyed phone from a leaky 20 oz frozen Miami Vice that she was carrying around in her bag while shopping for Kaci’s impromptu bachelorette (which would later bring us all to/near to tears).

Pushing the button to open the drapes at the Flamingo and reciting lines from The Hangover in my late-night-drinking voice as I gazed out at Caesar’s and the strip below while laying in bed. “Hey guys…how about that drive? Hehehehe….” “Could it be? Could I have found another member of my wolf pack?”

There was Suki and Leah from San Fran, who I didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with but am looking forward to seeing again very soon. Labor Day weekend?!

Brandy finding and proudly wearing a tiger shirt, then starting a band with Rachael called “Fanning the Slash.” Yup.

Pseudo stalking Jenny Blake only to scream “YOU’RE KINDA MY IDOL!” when I finally met her as a group of us waited outside Serendipity 3 for late night frozen hot chocolates. (P.S. I’m reading/ working through the prompts in your book right now and just…YES.)

Enlisting Boston bloggers Germana and Ginny to go to Bouchon with Brandy and I before the Black, White, and Gold party at Pure. Thank you for going with us and for walking in our fancy dresses and heels from the Venetian to the Flamingo, then to Planet Hollywood and to Caesar’s. It totally was a sucky walk, but you guys were awesome.

I’ll always remember Brandy replacing swear words with “Holy Dinah!” and teasing her when her Canadian accent would slip out. Agaaaainst. Aboot. Sephoria. Incidentally, if she says “never mind” to you, that means you’re in deep trouble!

There was the Boston crew I just sort of “fell into” lounging by the pool: the aforementioned Ginny and Germana, but also Bob and Carly, and Nicole Marie Says who has now forsaken Chicago for Beantown once more. Hearing them talk about “Southie” boys and comparing commutes during games at Fenway vs. Wrigley made me all ga-ga for everything Boston. Thank you for being so lovely to me and including me in your dinner plans at Sushi Roku! I miss you WICKED hard.

I’ll remember with a smile Ameena’s dinosaur sound & walk, which she showed us after much peer pressure in the midst of Pure’s rooftop lounge.

Brandy worrying (A LOT) about the Kardashian girls, who she informed me are “tormented by their bodies.”

There was Jenn Bizzle Rainbow Brite who will always be known as such for her epic Rainbow Brite costume at the meet and greet. There was Chelsea and her tall, skinny-mininess and adorable dresses from Mod Cloth, Kathleen who I just instantly clicked with but somehow never got to hang out with again. There was Stacey who was ever so sweet, but had to leave early under the saddest of circumstances. There was Katherine with her beauteous glitter shoes in a plethora of colors. There was Simone who was a true dancing queen in her badass Black, White, and Gold party dress. And there was Tiffany who was one of the friendliest people I met and who introduced me to a new Chicago friend- Caryn!

I’ll fondly remember catching the last fountain show of the night at the Bellagio with the kickass Terra, who I absolutely adore and sincerely wish lived closer, and Katelin’s husband, Matt, who was so nice in walking us over there and ensuring we made it in time. It was a lovely way to end the evening! Thank you Terra for lending me Jayme’s flip flops to wear while watching the fountains…and thank you Jayme for unknowingly lending them to someone you still hadn’t met!

And then it was time for us all to say good bye. Brandy hugged Maxie through a wall, which only makes sense insomuch as one can see the photo. Almie wore her pink wig and Kelly and I decided the Farewell Brunch should morph into Misfit Brunch where everyone wears their as yet unworn items of clothing/ accouterments (I’d have brought my ferocious shark lunch bag that I picked up in the Shark Reef gift shop. It’s pretty badass and I proudly carry it to work).

There was the “baller” private gondola ride Brandy and I took before we had to leave for the airport later that day- thanks for that awesomesauce!

And then came the inevitable flight delay back to Chicago, which evolved into a canceled flight, a two-day stay over at the airport La Quinta, and a curious bout of food poisoning. When I finally did leave Sin City, I sat at my gate with an airport gift shop purchased mug filled with alka seltzer, wearing my sunglasses, trying not to throw up, and pretty much penniless. And when I happened to glance down, one of the last things I’ll remember about Vegas is seeing somebody’s toe nail clipping on the carpet. An actual fucking TOE NAIL. No wonder the place smells like feet! Seriously. The Las Vegas airport smells like feet. I should know. I was there 3 times in a week.

These are the things I’ll always think of when I think of Vegas now. I’ll think of you. And you. And you. That time we laughed at Absinthe as Penny relayed a really hilarious and really NSFW story involving sock puppets (seriously, ignore the annoying fucker who recorded it and USE YOUR HEADPHONES). That time we walked right into Pure ahead of eighty bajillion other people standing in line. And that time we had Second Dinner at 2 am at the burger place in the Flamingo. And I’ll think of this, courtesy of Almie, and watch it over and over again.

BiSC happened at a pivotal moment in my life and I’m so happy and grateful for being able to go. I know so many more bloggers now and know that should I have the opportunity to travel to the cities they call home, there will be a welcoming hug and drinking buddy waiting for me.

Those were my thoughts as I moved out of the apartment I’ve called home for the past six years and in with my boyfriend. The last time I’d give a cab my address was when I came back from Vegas. Saying it aloud that night, sitting in the quiet of the darkly lit cab, it hit home. After Vegas, everything was irrevocably going to change.

And, it has.

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Packing, packing, and more packing of the apartment I called home for six years. A last weekend with my mom before things became ever more “we.” A trip to Las Vegas for Bloggers in Sin City where so many new friends were made. A bout with food poisoning. Moving Day. Unpacking and procuring a storage unit for 2/3 of my remaining belongings. My 31st birthday. New attempts to define “home.”

I want to write about all of it. Every last thing. I wan’t to share pictures and stories and friendships with you. I want to discuss the books and articles I’ve been reading lately that have made such an impact on me. I want to articulate exactly what my heart is telling me in conflict with my mind. I want to write again like I used to. I will.

For now, I’ll simply share this: as I stepped outside to walk Wendy this morning during a brief lull in the storm, I exhaled audibly. I paused and let the cooler air engulf me. It was almost calming in a way. I took in the city’s morning bustle, dampened and soaked by the rain. And I felt like, if only for that moment, I could breathe again.

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I have to admit, my going is a bit out of character for me. I’m not a “go out drinking every weekend” kind of girl and have no interest in gambling. I’m more the drink some wine at home while yelling at the TV in your jammies sort. That said, I can’t think of a better reason to spend three days in Las Vegas than to meet so many of the bloggers I’ve been reading, commenting on, and emailing for so many years. 

Best of all, my roommate is so fancy and nice and funny that I honest to goodness feel like the coolest kid in school right now. I’m so excited to finally have the opportunity to meet her and so many other funny, interesting, and relatable bloggers all in one place for a weekend of bloggy debauchery. (If you want to join us, there’s still time and no you don’t have to know anyone because we’re all friendly and welcoming and if you don’t believe me I promise that we will hang out and have a lovely time as long as you don’t mind my swearing and/or running jaded commentary!)

Of course, ever since I decided to sign up, I’ve been augmenting my closet. Living in Chicago and working in the suburbs, I’ve been passing my days in jeans, snow boots, wellies, heavy winter coats, and many a shapeless sweater. It’s a wardrobe of convenience and true laziness and none of it says VEGAS. With jazz hands. 

But, I’ve been a busy girl and am at last prepared to share with you the fruits of my online shopping; including but not limited to some key purchases of my own with some additional finds for those of you who are also looking to add a little “Vegas” to your own wardrobes. For where to buy, click on the “i” in the upper right-hand corner of the gallery below. Cheers!

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One of the really memorable parts of the trip out to CA last month, beyond the beautiful hills and vineyards and the wines and people, was the locally-sourced food we ate at two of the wine region’s restaurants. But first, the dresses. That’s right, unlike other Dressing for Dinner posts in the series, this one has two: one for me and one for Fancy.

Fancy's Dress for the girl + the fig in Sonoma.

The dress(s): Fancy’s dress was a light and flowing navy and cream patterned fabric with ruffles along the v-neckline and a slim belt. She picked it up on Modcloth especially for the trip and it was the inaugural wearing. Costing around $50-75, it proved to be a comfortable and breezy dress that she was happy to have purchased and brought along.

My dress for the girl + the fig dinner goodness.

She paired her dress with a set of silver bangle bracelets and a woven Banana Republic bracelet with tassle detail, a burnt sienna Hobo clutch, and some seriously kickass metallic pewter Steve Madden heels (she’s already tall and these are the epitome of”tall girl shoes,” thus making her Model Tall).

The dress I chose was a recent Nordstrom find (in July- no longer available online) that arrived marked down from $98 to $45. A surprise and brief irritation as I was charged full price, but the downtown Michigan Avenue store honored the discount and refunded the money over the phone. Thank you, Nordstrom!

The dress is from Halogen and is exactly what it looks like: spaghetti strapped, ruched and empire-waisted, A-line with…POCKETS! A bonus dress feature I didn’t realize I was getting until it arrived. I, like many of you, adore a dress with pockets. They never actually hold anything, but oh the pockets! Perfect for the “nonchalant, relaxed gal about town” look even though you’re all dressed up.

I loved this dress because of the linear pattern (reminded me of Prada’s linear patterns for their fall 2010 collection) and the colors- a mustardy yellow and cream with greyish brown accents. I paired my dress with a (janky looking in the pic) long bronze beaded necklace looped three times from Forever 21, a white faux snake-skinned Banana Republic clutch I picked up in Philadelphia once upon  a time, and metallic bronze strappy BCBGirls slingbacks with toe detail.

The dinner(s): Our first night in Wine Country, we headed over to the quaint downtown Sonoma restaurant, the girl + the fig, where they have their own garden in the back. Although the food we ate was both lovely and perfectly prepared, after a long day and an ill-advised late afternoon Domaine Chandon cheese platter, we could hardly eat more than a few bites of each dish and mostly wound up gazing lovingly upon them and talking of stomach bloat (hooray for A-line skirts!) instead. Definitely click on the restaurant’s link to see what the inside and outside space looks like, as well as to see more (and much better) food pictures.

For dinner, Fancy had a grilled fig (she raved about these figs not only during the meal but for the duration of the trip- they were really that good) and arugula salad (a whole pile of it!) sprinkled with chèvre, pancetta, and toasted pecans in a port vinaigrette. For her entree, she chose the grilled flat iron steak served with truffled mac & goat cheese (I wish I could have had this too) and garden summer beans in an herb olive oil. All food pics included below (click on the “i” in the upper right corner of the gallery and you’ll get the description for each picture).

I, on the other hand, chose an heirloom tomato (I am now effectively addicted to heirloom tomatoes and would eat them everyday if I could) and watermelon salad covered with marinated feta in a yellow tomato vinaigrette and dusted with oregano. I can’t tell you how eclectic the flavors in this salad were…but it completely worked! This is one of those things you eat and always remember. For my entree, I ordered the white wine braised pork shank (something I had never actually tried before) served with polenta, brocolini, and a horseradish gremolata (or, at least that’s what the web site told me- I know it as “oh my god this is so tasty whatever it is”). Again, food pics are in the fancy photo album below.

I, or we (by that point I was too far-gone in a food coma to know for sure), had the lavender crème brûlée (of which there is no photographic proof of, although it did manage to be eaten in its entirety by some feat of last minute stomach prowess). In the pictures below I’ve also included a few to illustrate the creativity of the restaurant: Barbie and Ken dolls on the bathroom doors to denote which is which, a pretty little ramekin of olives, and our to-go boxes.

Our second dinner (sorry, no dress pics here- we chose to be more relaxed on our last night), was at Mustard’s Grill in Napa Valley, at where the Kellaher’s are once again at the helm. I’ve included our dinner pics below as well (if the portion sizes look ridiculously huge, it’s because they were!), of which there’s:

• The ahi tuna crackers appetizer with wasabi crème fraiche and soy vinaigrette
• Fancy’s dinner of smoked Sonoma duck with grilled sweet potatoes and green beans
• My dinner of roasted lemon and garlic chicken (so “lemony” I can taste it again on the tip of my tongue just writing that!) with mashed potatoes and grilled zucchini
• Dessert, once again unphotographed, a growing trend with my Dressing for Dinner posts! We chose “The Daily Freeze” (it looked like an old timey milkshake): a housemade ice cream made with summer fruit (ours was made with peaches), which was swiftly inhaled.
• The cover of Mustards Grill’s wine list, which is- if you can believe this- a serious understatement for the wealth of riches to be found inside.

The verdict: Sonoma and Napa have a plethora of stellar restaurants to choose from, but the two we chose were such that I would perhaps forgo trying a new one on a return visit to eat again at either of them. Especially the girl + the fig.

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There for two and a half days, we visited:

• Trefethen. We lingered over reserve flights in cushy leather loungers with the tasting room practically to ourselves, then received a complimentary and impromptu behind the scenes tour of everything.
• Peju. A quick stop that was kind of forgettable in truth with a congenial enough Steve Martin look-alike pouring.
• Domaine Chandon. Also a short but sweet visit involving a cheese platter with sausage and stone ground mustard that, in the words of @bayjb, swiftly devolved into an episode of When Animals Attack.
• Mumm. Hi, Mumm, I love you- I do. Alongside Trefethen, you’re my favorite and I would like to here and now thank you for replying to my tweet and for the “pour-friendliness” and, oh, for just everything.
• Domaine Carneros. Home of Tattinger’s Le Rêve (The Dream), also known as the most expensive wine I’ve ever purchased and would not have without the 30% “industry” discount they gave me- to you, I also say thank you!
• Cakebread. By appointment only, we lucked out at the last minute and were there first thing in the morning. Lacking a formal tasting room, we sipped our 10 am flights in the working barn where they began harvesting their 2010 vintage that day.
• Chateau Montelena. Way up in Calistoga and home of the infamous Bottle Shock, it’s worth the trip despite Chris Pine being nowhere to be found. I typically dislike Chardonnay, but quickly forked over $50 for a bottle of the sort that put Napa on the map.
• And indulged in lunch aboard the Napa Valley Wine Train. A whimsical ride up to St. Helena and back, during which there were mimosas, wine, and some seriously amazing food followed by Fancy and I hanging off the back of the train taking it all in.

Rather than launch into a flight-by-flight account of Napa Valley and its subsequent appellations, I’ve opted for the less verbose preferable route of simply showing a highlights reel (thank you for obliging me). I am, however, more than happy to provide recommendations or suggestions for where to stay, eat, and sip (both for the places we went and for the ones we intended but never made it to). And, if you’d like to see the brief picture captions, just click on the “i” in the right top corner. Cheers!

I must add that I loved the experience of learning about the grapes, the land, the winemaking process, and of course tasting, so much that I want to make it a yearly four-day sojourn.  Who’s coming with me?

*As in, a glass (or two) of wine and a cheese platter have become a daily institution in my household.

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