Vintage Vegas - Lake Mead in Better Days

At one time, it was unfathomable that Lake Mead might ever fail to support Las Vegas. There was no “bathtub ring,” and there were no worries about water shortages.

Today, we face a much different reality.

When I was a kid, the fact that Lake Mead was the nation’s largest reservoir was a matter of local pride.

My dad told scary stories about the lake that left me wary of going very far from shore: stories about man-sized catfish living close to the dam, people pulled underwater and swept away by the currents, and other PG versions of his bartender tall tales.

Me & Dad at Lake Mead

In my childhood years, my family enjoyed the lake from the safety of the marina (usually Echo Bay or Lake Mead Marina). Each marina had a restaurant and the Lake Mead Marina had a shop where you could buy bags of popcorn or bread to feed the carp, who went into a feeding frenzy almost as soon as the first scrap of food hit the water. My dad once lost a pair of glasses to a carp that had its mouth wide open at just the right moment.

Today, both Lake Mead Marina and Echo Bay Marina are gone from their original locations.

Lake Mead Marina moved and is now a part of what’s called Las Vegas Boat Harbor. In 2007, before it had to move, I was able to take my son to the Lake Mead Marina; it's mostly dry land in this area now.

Lake Mead Marina, 2007, in its original location. See the "bathtub ring" on the hill?

In 2011, my family staycationed at Lake Las Vegas, and we spent our days exploring the lake. We went to Echo Bay, and I was stunned to see how low the water was. I remembered going there as a kid, when the Echo Bay's hotel, restaurant, and bar were busy enough that my dad considered taking a job there.

Echo Bay in 2011

Last year, the Echo Bay Marina closed.  Over the past few months, several news outlets have featured pictures of the structure’s remains left sitting atop the dried-up former lake bed.

Low water levels are changing the appearance of the lake in drastic ways, and for those of us who’ve known Lake Mead for many years, seeing the water levels drop elicits a mix of sadness, fear, and wonder.

Do you remember Lake Mead before the “bathtub ring”?

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All pictures by Terrisa Meeks

First Friday in the Las Vegas Arts District

Las Vegas’ monthly festival in the Arts District featured some intriguing (and kinda bizarre) art this month.

Since it was August 1 last Friday, I took my hubby and son Downtown to First Friday.

My hubby almost melted.

“I’m worried that people think I’m having a heart attack,” he said, someplace on the other side of Bar + Bistro, as the sweat ran off him in impressive amounts. It was about 105°F, which my son and I found only mildly hot, while my beloved was about to burst into flames.

Before we hurried to the air conditioned car, we took in the sights of First Friday, which reportedly has taken a new turn toward more art and less drinking:

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Have you been to First Friday lately?


All pictures & video by Terrisa Meeks

Remembering James Garner

Last Saturday, James Garner passed away at the age of 86. In 1975, I met him when he was filming a “Rockford Files” episode in Las Vegas.

In the 70s, I had a huge crush on James Garner, regardless of the fact that he was only a few years younger than my dad. Whenever I envisioned meeting him (which I estimated to be about as likely as a Yeti showing up in my backyard), I always pictured a happy, magical experience featuring the best hair day of my life, loads of witty remarks (made by me), and fashionable attire that would say, “Yes, I’m 12, but a very grown-up 12.”

Things did not work out that way on the day I met him. Not even close.

When I heard Garner was in Las Vegas filming a “Rockford Files” episode, I thought it was thrilling—from a distance. I didn’t have any desire to actually meet him. My dad worked at the Aladdin, where some of the show was being filmed, and he told us stories about the show and its star. That was close enough for me.

I don’t know if Dad made special arrangements for me to meet Garner, or if I just happened to be with Dad on a day they were filming at the hotel. I know it would have been nice to have had some kind of warning. I was not looking fashionable at all. I was too scared to be witty. And it was definitely not a good hair day.

When Dad and I arrived at the hotel that day, we went right to the front valet entrance, where filming was underway. They were shooting scenes of Garner speeding away from the Aladdin (yes, in his classic gold Firebird), out onto Las Vegas Boulevard. During a break, Dad walked over to where Garner was standing and they started talking. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, Dad would forget I was there. Or perhaps the earth would conveniently swallow me.

When I saw the two of them looking in my direction, I realized (with great horror) that I was going to be expected to speak. In sentences. To James Garner.

I sidestepped. I slouched and hid behind tall people. Dad frowned and craned his neck, looking for me in the crowd. Even worse, Garner started looking around for me. I really had no choice but to step forward, wearing my fuzzy white cap, purple corduroys, and frumpy pink sweater.

I have no recollection of what anyone said. I remember I said polite and courteous things like I wasn’t in a state of shock, and I remember Garner being very kind.

Later on, Dad asked Garner for his autograph.

Luckily, I didn’t have to be present. 

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Photo of James Garner and James Whitmore, Jr. during "Rockford Files" filming, 1977, from Wikimedia.

In Memoriam - Officer Igor Soldo, Officer Alyn Beck, and Joseph Wilcox

Las Vegas has been grieving this week for the three men killed on Sunday, June 8, 2014: Las Vegas Metro Officers Alyn Beck and Igor Soldo, and a couragous citizen, Joseph Wilcox.

Today the Smith Center was filled with men and women paying their final respects to Beck; just a few days ago, the community said good-bye to Soldo. 

Services for Joseph Wilcox are set for June 22. 

The community is rallying around the families of the fallen. The Review Journal and Channel 8 both have lists of ways you can can help. Fundraisers to raise money for the families are still going on. 

Donations for the officers can also be made to the IPOF (Injured Police Officers Fund). Condolences for the Metro Officers can be sent via email to pio@lvmpd.com, and Metro plans on creating a memorial wall of the messages.


As a former member of the Metro Family, I've had a hard time this week. My thoughts and prayers are with the families of the fallen and all the members of Metro.

Saturday Lunch in Las Vegas at Cantina Laredo

Tacos and Margaritas at Tivoli Village's "modern" Mexican restaurant. 

The atmosphere at Cantina Laredo on a recent Saturday at 1 p.m.:  Pleasant, with an inviting vibe. Not crowded. Pretty much just what I'm looking for in a Saturday lunch spot. 

Pros:

• My lunch companion, my good friend Diane, who never gives me a bad time about taking pictures of the food.
• The expensive (but worth it) "Cabo Flip" Margarita ($12.75).
• Flavorful food.

Cons:

• The service, which rocked at first, but when we lingered, we were ignored. (Note to waiters: we ladies like to linger on Saturdays, and if you come back to our table, we'll order more stuff.)
• Small lunch portions.

The Cost: 
Modest, with most lunch entrees around $10. The tasty Margarita was expensive, but delicious. Quality booze isn't cheap, you know.

I love leisurely Saturday lunches. What about you? Are you a weekend luncher?
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Photo by Terrisa Meeks

Did Anthony Bourdain Get Las Vegas Right?

I thought Bourdain’s coverage of Las Vegas was pretty good, but no one gets Local Vegas totally right.

Most stories about Las Vegas paint a twisted picture of the city. Outsiders tend to see only the Strip, and they conclude the entire city is a phony, cynical place. They think “local” Las Vegas is a collection of gritty neighborhoods bordering the Strip and beyond that, a cookie-cutter suburban wasteland. Residents are portrayed as a sad collection of hotel employees, gamblers, crazy people, and strippers.

I commend Anthony Bourdain for not interviewing any strippers in this season’s “Parts Unknown” show on Las Vegas.

Bourdain got a lot right about Las Vegas. He started off his show at the Huntridge Tavern, a bar not far from where I grew up, a bar my uncle liked back in the days when it was considered run-down instead of trendy. My dad tended bar for a while at a bar called The Pink Panther, a cop hangout about a half a block from the Huntridge Tavern.  I spent a lot of time in that area when I was a teenager, perfecting my Galaga skills at a cool video arcade (dimly illuminated with black lights, no less) on the west side of the Huntridge Theater.

It was nice to see Bourdain give the city its due, so to speak, by starting out his show in Old Local Vegas.

From a barstool at the Tavern, Bourdain asks the bartender (who says she’s a third generation Las Vegan) if she thinks people are basically good. “About half,” she answers. (Sounds about right for a bartender to me, although I don’t my old-school barkeeper Dad would have gone that high. Maybe a quarter.)

Bourdain goes on to tell his drinking companion that he thinks that side of Las Vegas, that crusty old side, has a dim world view. “Even more dim than me,” he says.

I can understand that. Long-time Las Vegans are a suspicious bunch. We’ve seen a lot of cons, crooks, and cranks. Vegas can be a hard place to find friends.

We have our fair share of sketchy neighborhoods where the houses have bars on the windows, where “gritty” is the nicest thing you can say about the surroundings.

But the truth is that a whole lot of Las Vegans are living in neighborhoods where speeding cars are the biggest danger.

I’ve lived and worked all over Las Vegas, and the absolutely un-newsworthy fact is that if you take away the five miles of the Strip and the 40 million visitors, we’re pretty much like any other city in the Southwest these days. (Okay, except for the slot machines in the grocery stores. I’ll give you that.)

In today’s Local Vegas, you’ll find bunches of us who don’t work in casinos or bars, don’t gamble excessively, and know not a single (living) mobster—we even have Girl Scouts, for God’s sake, actual cookie-selling Girl Scouts. All of that, however, is simply too boring to write about or put on TV, no matter how many big-name chefs open up restaurants in the ‘burbs.

For years it bothered me that the real Las Vegas, the place I lived, was never featured in an article or story. It’s a city that attracts people from all over the world, and that’s one of the things I find the most intriguing. You never know when your next-door-neighbor will be an Iranian dentist, or a Palestinian refuge, or a family of Russians who dig up the landscaping (including trees) and take it with them when they leave. Las Vegas is full of characters.

I liked Bourdain’s show. It’s always interesting to see Vegas though the eyes of Outsiders, and I was glad to see he stayed away from the “Sin City” label. He showed everyone the villa on the Strip, the eccentric artist, the professional gamblers, and the amazing restaurants. He took a stab at Local Vegas, even talking about our water woes.

And, thank God, no strippers.

Did you see Anthony Bourdain's show on Las Vegas? 

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Photos courtesy of: Las Vegas by Daniel Ramirez at flickr, Downtown Las Vegas by P-a-t-r-i-c-k at flickr, and suburban Las Vegas by Terrisa Meeks.

5 Tips for Surviving the Summer in Vegas

Triple-digit weather is ahead. Get ready.

If you’re from a more temperate climate and are facing your first summer in Las Vegas, let me just first say that I’m sorry, I truly am.

Judging from the stories I’ve heard, your first year of three-digit heat is the worst. Right now, if you’re used to spring in Chicago or Minneapolis, you’re amazed at our warm weather. By July, you’ll be sure you’ve relocated to Hell (at least, that’s what you’ll tell everyone).

Personally, I don’t consider it truly hot until it’s over 110F. 

Don't try this in Death Valley. It's hot. We all get it.

In colder climates, you have to work around cold and snow. In the desert, you need to work around sunlight and heat. Here are a few tips to help you survive summer in Las Vegas:

Get a windshield shade for your car.

If you’re parked outside, the desert sun turns your car into an oven. Without a windshield shade, you’ll be very sorry the first time you grab anything metal inside your car.  If you don’t have a shade, I suggest oven mitts.

Stay away from the light (the sunlight).

Standing in the direct sun in the desert is volunteering for torture. It’s a sure way to become a believer in spontaneous human combustion. Shade is your friend in all circumstances. Seek it.  

Understand that the swimming pool will lie to you.

“No, no, my lily-white friend, you don’t need shade… and who needs sunscreen? A little burn will turn to tan in a day. Just float here in my cool water with your tasty beverage(s) and you’ll be fine.” Don’t believe your pool. You’ll get sun poisoning and wind up looking like a boiled lobster.

Stay seated when you open your power bill.

If you’re going to be comfortable at home during summer, it’s going to get expensive. Even if you’ve got a really well-insulated house and a preference for warm temperatures, it’s going to be expensive. Brace yourself.

Be properly provisioned.

You should have water, lip balm, sunscreen, and sun glasses (and maybe a hat) when you go out and about. And that’s just for doing things around the city.

As far as going out in the desert… well, don’t. Don’t be a news story.

What did you think of your first summer in Las Vegas?

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Photos courtesy of MrHicks46 and Kate Ter Haar at flickr

Las Vegas Metro & Traffic Accidents - Unless You’re Hurt, You’re on Your Own

Effective today, Las Vegas Metro’s new policy is that they don’t respond to non-injury traffic accidents. From what I saw this weekend, that might present some problems.

Yesterday I saw the two drivers of these vehicles not long after this accident happened. No one was hurt, but it sure looked like someone was about to be.

When I turned into the parking lot and saw two young women standing in the street, shaking their fingers in each other faces, heatedly exchanging words, and furiously making phone calls on their cell phones, I slowed down to see if a fist fight was coming next.

I stopped to fuel my car and watched from a distance as the yelling/finger pointing/phone calling continued.

I continued to my next stop, and when I came out twenty minutes later, I saw flares and a crowd of people. A fire truck had stopped and was blocking the lane the fender bender was in.

Next, I went grocery shopping.

An hour later, I came out of the store and was shocked to see the same cars, in the same position, only now there were several people standing around, in what looked like opposing camps (apparently all those phone calls were to family and friends)… and a motorcycle officer.

What’s going to happen now that Metro won’t be responding to non-injury accidents like this? 

Do we just let them duke it out in the street?

This is one of those times I wish I still worked for Metro. I’d love to read that report.

What do you think of Metro’s new policy on non-injury traffic accidents? 

Extra Local Vegas - The Battle for the Trees

It’s sad to see so many beautiful pine trees marked for removal on the Peccole Ranch Greenbelt, but it’s not the first time the Greenbelt’s trees have suffered a mass removal. Ten years ago, Peccole Ranch cut down almost 1,000 cottonwood trees. 

When I first moved to Peccole Ranch, it was because of the trees.

You have to understand that I grew up in a Las Vegas that was without water worries. Just outside the city, the world’s largest man-made lake offered a seemingly endless supply of water. My childhood home had a big, grassy front yard with two huge elm trees and a backyard filled with grass and trees, including a fig tree that bore prodigious amounts of fruit (that our Italian neighbor turned into impressive amounts of jelly).

That’s a far cry from today’s Las Vegas, where the reality of our water situation means that grassy, lush landscaping is scarce.

When my husband and I discovered Peccole in 1998, it felt like Old Vegas, like home, like golf courses, like the Las Vegas of my childhood that was filled with patches of lavishly over-watered, non-native greenery.

An Easter Sunday in my backyard when the cottonwoods were still standing.

A home owners’ association governs Peccole Ranch, a development known largely for its Greenbelt (or “paseo”), the walking path/flood channel that meanders throughout the community. The Greenbelt was built by a group out of Minnesota, Triple 5 (the same people who built the Mall of America). Water consumption was not a consideration. Pines, cottonwoods, and fruitless plums dominated the area.

And it was gorgeous.

In 2004, I was appalled when I found out that the Peccole HOA intended on removing the giant cottonwood trees in back of the home I owned at that time. The trees were easily 50 feet tall, gracing our backyard with both privacy and shade. It was idyllic. 

The cottonwoods in back of my neighbor's backyard.

Although I loved the cottonwoods, they posed a major problem: their invasive roots and water-hungry ways were damaging property and costing the Peccole HOA a lot of money. After years of expensive repairs (and I would imagine ridiculous water bills), the Peccole HOA had had enough. The cottonwoods were marked for removal throughout the Greenbelt, including the stand behind my house.

To say I was distraught would be like saying that Las Vegas gets warm in July.

I wrote letters. I made calls. I read the law to try to understand how a major component of the community could be altered so radically. I canvassed my neighborhood to talk to everyone living along the Greenbelt. I posted flyers. I caused Peccole to put “cc: Counsel” in their letters back to me. (At that time, I didn’t know that any time you mention NRS codes, people freak out.)

I called the State of Nevada HOA Ombudsman, who, I must tell you, was the epitome of useless.

“What I’m trying to understand is whether or not the NRS allows the HOA to do whatever it wants,” I told the man. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to save the beautiful green giants living behind my house that made sounds like the ocean when the wind rustled their leaves.

“I can’t give you legal advice,” he said.

“I’m not asking for legal advice. I’m just asking if it’s okay for the HOA to do whatever they want with the community landscaping.”

“You’ll have to contact a lawyer for legal advice. I can’t give legal advice.”

“OK, what DO you do, then?”

His voice brightened at the idea of a question he could answer. “We explain the NRS and help people solve problems with their HOAs….” 

Just think: they paid this guy with my (and your) tax dollars.

Eventually, the Peccole people answered my questions (after they stopped freaking out, they were very helpful), and here’s the bottom line:

HOAs get to do whatever they want with the landscaping.

You can object, you can rally your neighbors, you can attend meetings and lodge complaints, but in the end, they get to do whatever they want. You, as a homeowner, have no say in what they deem to be in the best financial interests of the community.

The cottonwoods behind my house came down, their trunks sawed almost completely through before they were pulled down with ropes. I watched my trees crack and crash to the ground, and when they were gone, the Greenbelt looked shockingly barren.

Peccole planted trees to replace the cottonwoods: scrawny, drought-tolerant varieties, many of which have lovely flowers in spring and summer. Ten years later, they’re still skinny trees, but they’re very pretty. In another ten or twenty years, they might offer shade.

When I recently found ominous orange dots on the trunks of mature pines throughout the Greenbelt, I knew it was fruitless to campaign to save them.

I can see why they’re targeted for removal. Many of them lean at incredible angles or are beautifully (and unstably) twisted in interesting ways. Not all of them are going, but it looks like a quite a few are. The pines provide most of the shade on the Greenbelt and help keep the temperatures cool enough for walking in summer, but that won’t save them, of course. Pines are unstable and can easily tip over in storms. I’d bet they’ve cost Peccole some money in damages, and who knows how water-hungry they are.

You might think there’s a valid argument that the beauty and shade they offer offset some higher costs—but in my experience, that’s not the case. It’s all about the bottom line, which means the Greenbelt is about to get another serious makeover.

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Do you use the Greenbelt in Peccole? Have you seen the pines marked with orange dots throughout Peccole (including along Grand Canyon)?

Post Script: I sent an email to Peccole to ask if they were going to replant any trees to take the place of the pines coming out. As of today’s date, I haven’t received a response.

Update 3/4/14:

I heard from the Peccole Association and they say that the trees are marked "to be thinned, not cut down." I've never seen the orange dots used that way, but hey, I'm not a landscaper. Either way, the Association confirmed that it replants one of a variety trees whenever it removes a tree--maybe not in the exact spot, but in the general area.

I've always understood this to be the "Bye-Bye Tree" mark.

Update 12/1/14:

The Greenbelt has indeed had a make-over, and I was surprised at how little grass was removed. The tree above, by the way, is still there, although many of the others I saw marked are gone. Here's what the Greenbelt looked right after it was re-done:

A section of the Greenbelt along Apple Street is now being renovated. In addition to removing some grass and trees, the sprinklers are also being replaced. The new sprinklers spray away from the pedestrian walkway, which is a terrific improvement. 

Vintage Vegas: Fats Domino & My Parents

“Only you would have autographed Fats Domino albums in your garage and not know it.” ~Comment from a friend.

I’ve had a lot of emails and messages from friends lately, most of them along the lines of, “Where have you been?”

Let me sum up the past few months for you: First, there was a flood. Then there was mold, and a crazy landlord, and lawyers, and a move that happened over Christmas and New Year’s. (We’re calling it “Mold-nado.”)

New Year's Eve at my house: Ringing in 2014 with lots of boxes.

In case you’ve ever wondered how long it would take two adults and a resentful teenager to move a four-bedroom home and a workshop (with very little help), the answer is: eight days. Eight long, painful days, at the end of which we all agreed that stairs are evil and we hate them.

We’ve been settling into an awesome new home (it has a pool!), managed by a lovely, sane management company, but we’re still working our way through boxes. A few weekends ago, we uncovered my parents’ old vinyl records.

In the 1960s and 70s, my dad frequently worked the showroom bars on the Las Vegas Strip, and he knew a lot of musicians. He was friends with several of them, including Fats Domino and Harry James. 

Apparently Dad also knew Peggy Lee, who autographed this 1962 Blues Cross Country album for him (notice Quincy Jones conducted):

When I got to the Fats Domino records, I found albums signed for my mom and me.

I think Dad met Fats at the Flamingo, where my dad was a bartender during the early 1960s. However they met, Fats and my parents became friends.

My favorite story about Fats came from my mom. According to Mom, one day Fats (his real name is Antoine, incidentally) pulled up in front of the house in a limo. His feather ties had become wrinkled and mashed somewhere during his travels, and he didn’t like whatever solution the hotel had proposed. He asked Mom to help him, and she came up with putting them under the sofa cushions to gently press the feathers back into shape, returning his ties to show-ready condition.

When I was about 10, I got to sit backstage and watch Fats perform. I thought it was odd that Mom and I were sitting behind the action, amid the lights and the curtains, but it was fun. I grew up around showrooms, but I was usually sitting in the audience. I didn’t really understand what a privilege it was to be backstage.

The last time I saw Mr. Domino, I was in my early 20s. Dad and I went to see him in his suite, which I think was at Bally’s. I remember there was a great view of the Strip from the sitting room's window. He and Dad chatted for maybe 30 minutes—about what, I don’t remember. Fats seemed to find me sassy (probably a fair assessment), but he was happy to sit and catch up with Dad.

This is why it takes me so long to go through some of these boxes: the stories they hold slow me down.

I’ve still got several boxes to go. Who knows what other treasures I might find?

What's your most surprising "find" (in the garage, the attic, etc.)?

Johnny Carson and Old Vegas

I love reading about the Las Vegas I remember, a time before megacasinos.

When I saw Henry Bushkin’s book "Johnny Carson," something about the author’s name jogged my memory. Maybe it’s because my parents and I watched “The Tonight Show,” and I remember Carson’s “Bombastic Bushkin” jokes. Maybe it’s because my mom, Barbara Hudson, worked for KVVU TV5 Las Vegas when Johnny Carson bought the television station in 1978, something Bushkin writes about in the book.

Here’s my mom and Johnny Carson at some employee function for the TV station. My mom’s sister, my 94-year-old aunt, still talks about this picture. At the time this Polaroid was taken, which I’m guessing was about 1980, Johnny Carson was incredibly famous and getting a picture taken with him was a Big Deal (remember, this was before camera phones). That picture was such a Big Deal, in fact, that Mom got copies made and sent one back home.  

Mom was the controller for TV5, and I have to wonder if she didn’t spend some time talking to Henry Bushkin. (Mom passed away in 2008, so unfortunately I can’t ask her.) Bushkin, as he relates in his book, was Carson’s attorney/manager/confidant/advisor. To paraphrase his own description, he was just like those guys on “Entourage,” only there was just one of him.

Las Vegas in the 1970s gets an entire chapter in “Johnny Carson,” and it was my favorite chapter (of course, because it’s the time and place of my childhood). Bushkin describes how blasé the locals were about celebrities—and how refreshing that was for the famous:

“The locals left the stars alone, and somehow most of the guests in the casino grasped that they shouldn’t ask for autographs.”

(Which as a complete aside, reminds me of the time I got James Garner’s autograph during his “Rockford Series” days, but that’s another story.)

“Once we were in line at the register at Food King, and the customer in front of us caught a glimpse of Johnny. ‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’

“Johnny shrugged. ‘I needed peanut butter.’”

The Vegas I grew up in was a small place, filled with people who either worked with celebrities, or were well-known themselves. Fritz Becker, conductor for the Mills Brothers, lived across the street from us (we watched his house when he was traveling, which was often). Poker legend Doyle Brunson lived about five blocks away (in his pre-legend days), in a house Jackie Gaughan built, in the then-ritzy neighborhood at the top of Oakey Hill. Many of our neighbors were engineers, stage hands, or musicians. My dad, a bartender, often worked showroom bars and knew scores of both the famous and infamous. (Speaking of infamous, Dad was especially fond of Moe Daliz, as were many long-time Vegas residents).

Bushkin writes quite a bit about Jack Eglash, the influential entertainment director and band director at the Sahara, who lived just a few blocks away from our house. I went to school with his daughter. I had no idea what an important Las Vegan Eglash was—I just knew his daughter had a pogo stick, which I considered a seriously exotic item.

I enjoyed Bushkin’s book, not only because of his descriptions of Vegas, but because Carson was a fascinating person and a ground-breaker. He set the standard for the late-night talk show genre. Bushkin’s account of the 18 years he worked for Carson is an engaging portrait of a television icon during the height of his fame.

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Do you remember Johnny Carson -- or Old Vegas?

Why I'm Thankful I Got to Cook Thanksgiving Dinner

How a small flood made me happy to have a kitchen.

Tonight, my family enjoyed ham, potatoes, and some steamed asparagus. That’s a simple meal (the only kind I like to cook), but on Monday, after our hot water heater gave up the ghost and left a pond in our family room as a parting gift (killing the laminate floor in the process), I wasn’t sure Thanksgiving was going to turn out like I had envisioned.

"Think about all the people without hot running water," we said. Then, "Think about all the people without water at all."

That thought made us feel better on Tuesday than it did on Wednesday.

Today, we got hot water back. It still feels like we’re camping inside our house, but I’m OK with that. We can use the kitchen and the dining room, and really, that’s all I was concerned about for today. I just wanted to have Thanksgiving dinner at home—and having hot water makes that so much easier.

This has inspired me to be thankful for many things: 

• The handyman who showed up today, Thanksgiving Day, to put in the new hot water heater. 
• My dear friend and neighbor who let me shower at her place before work on Tuesday and Wednesday. (Unspeakably appreciative of that.) 
• Microwaves (for quickly heating water). 
• A standard of living that's easy to take for granted. 
• The yards of cable my son and hubby put together so we could watch TV. (“The Godfather” is looking awesome right now.)

The chaos is set to resume tomorrow, when the rest of the “fixing” begins. Not sure how long this will take, or what it will entail. But for right now, I’ve had my holiday meal and I can wash dishes without heating water in the microwave. 

Sometimes it really is the little things in life that we're the most thankful for, isn’t it?

Happy Thanksgiving!

How was your holiday?

Summerlin Lunch Spots

I love going out to eat for a late Saturday lunch, when I’m free to linger and enjoy a good meal with a friend and a glass of red wine. Luckily, I live near Summerlin, home to several wonderful restaurants that are perfect for lunch.

Lunch has a lot of good qualities: I don't have to get up early to enjoy it, and it's considerably less expensive than dinner. (And the lighting is better, a big bonus for those of us who take pictures of our food.)

Today my lunch companion, Diane, and I hit Echo & Rig, one of Tivoli Village’s new restaurants. A butcher shop and bar are on the ground floor, and the restaurant is upstairs. The design an attractive industrial-style blend of wood and metal with a great chandelier hanging over the stairwell.

(You walk in through the exceedingly cool butcher shop. Everything looked so wonderful I almost wished I liked to cook.)

Although we had the option of brunch (served until 2 p.m. on Saturday, the host informed us), we elected to go with lunch instead. Diane had the Ultimate BLT, I had the Steakhouse Chop Salad, and we ordered a side of Portobello Fries –all of which we split up and shared (since we’re ladies, this is lunch de regueur).

 For dessert: “Two cappuccino sundaes, please.”

Best Plate: Ultimate BLT. It's no surprise that the apple smoked bacon is so tasty since there's a butcher shop downstairs. And the bread was divine—the sandwich had plenty of sauce, but the bread stayed non-soggy. Chips on the side were also perfectly done with just the right amount of crispiness.

Not my Fave: The Chop Salad. Not much filet there, and several of the pieces were tough. Too much pepperoni.

After lunch, it was time for a stroll around Tivoli (we wound up at The Market, where we decided our next lunch will be at The View Winebar).

I’ve always been a Tivoli Village fan, and it’s exciting to see innovative restaurants moving in, along with a host of fun shops. We browsed through vintage clothes at Annie Creamcheese (Both of us: "Oh my god, if I see something here I used to wear, I'll die") and stopped in at Box (which carries a line of unique spa products in addition to also being an awesome place to get waxed, according to the lovely woman who waited on us). 

Other restaurants at Tivoli:

 Poppy Den by Chef Angelo Sosa 

After graduating from CIA, Chef Sosa worked with Chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten and went on to have the kind of career you'd expect after such a prestigious start—and then he was cast on two seasons of “Top Chef.”

High: I loved the watermelon salad. Those flavors -- watermelon, goat cheese, and wasabi -- don't sound like they should go together. But they do, wonderfully.

Kinda Annoying: Slightly loud music, not so loud as to warrant a complaint, but loud enough to make conversation mildly difficult.

UPDATE: Poppy Den closed in August 2014.

Hops and Harvest

The acclaimed and award-winning Chef Bradly Odgen’s last restaurant was a Michelin One Star at Caesars Palace. His only restaurant in Las Vegas is now at Tivoli, which says a lot about the culinary ‘hood over there. 

High: Heirloom Tomato Salad with blue cheese--outstanding fresh flavors.

Kinda weird: The seating added to the entry-way.

UPDATE: Hops and Harvest closed, but Made L.V. is in that space now.

Other Summerlin Lunch Spots:

Honey Salt

Culinary all-stars Elizabeth Blau and Kim Canteenwalla are behind Honey Salt, one of Summerlin’s most acclaimed restaurants. I liked the farmhouse-ish, modern-crossed-with- vintage décor. And the burger was divine, too.

Due Forni

Due Forni is the place for pizza cooked in Napolitano brick ovens, and their lunch menu is full of well-done, non-pizza dishes, like the Bresaola and the Panino di Pollo (steak salad and chicken sandwich).

My favorite part of Due Forni is the wine since it’s a good place to order the house wine (I like red, so I can’t speak to white). Every glass I’ve gotten so far has been great

What are your favorite Vegas lunch spots?