poor man's vegas...

...is the rich woman's perfect birthday gift. I was lucky enough to spend almost a week in Mesquite, Nevada, with my family for my birthday. If you're not familiar with Mesquite, it's about an hour north-ish of Las Vegas, just on the other side of the Utah border in sin-land! That's right...casinos, bingo parlors, cheap drinks, 70 degree weather this time of year and lots and lots of golf. The thing we like about it is that Vegas these days is, well...Vegas. I mean, whatever happened to the cheap buffets, free drinks, getting into the clubs for free and $10 blackjack tables? It now costs over 10 bucks a pop for a drink, cover charges are more than the uncomfortable but cute shoes I bought to wear, and I just may never be comfortable doubling-down on a $25 bet. Now, I do like the lovely restaurants. They've relocated a lot of my favorites to Vegas but, frankly, one or two night of gourmet dining in Vegas means I'm at McD's the rest of the time. Hey, a girl's gotta have some money for the other sins noted above - and shopping.


So my family has had a condo timeshare in Mesquite for over 10 years. We like it. Cheap drinks, cheap gambling, low key, lots of golf and let's face it people. When you're celebrating any birthday over 40, it's not so bad to spend it in a town where the average age HAS to be 67.

I feel like the hottest chick in town! I could strut my "wow-I-meant-to-be-in-better-bikini-shape-than-this body" at the pool and feel pretty darn good! Unless my lovely younger sisters were around, anyway. I am thinking about entering this contest someday...bring it, ladies.


Speaking of, we went to dinner one night at a four-star restaurant called Playoffs (used to be Carollo's ribs or something like that). Four-star restaurants in Mesquite are apparently judged by the fact that they are not in a casino and do not have a drive-up window. Either way, this joint has been a family tradition for over 10 years. So we're eating dinner - steak, ribs, salads, a bottle of wine, the works - and I asked for the check and when our server brought the ticket holder back with my card, there was no ticket, nothing to sign. I gave her my best "I'm confused" face and she said someone took care of our tab. WHAT?!? Who does that?! We hadn't talked to anyone, I don't think we looked that much like a homeless family, and unless my lovely sister was making googly-eyes at some guy named Gerald, we can't really figure out why this man decided to pay for our dinner. It kind of made me feel good about the world and the people in it and these days, that's a pretty good gift. So thanks, Gerald, you mystery man. The dinner was lovely, but restoring my faith in humanity was priceless.