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Last fall, I was invited to an exclusive, experimental dinner, prepared by a daring young chef.
Today I sat down to write about fish tacos, but I got sucked into a wormhole looking for rentals in Baja on Air BnB. Doesn't a week at a desert-beach sound good right now or what? Just a modest little cottage with open windows and no locks on the doors. An outdoor shower, and landscaping of yucca and cactus. It's just a short jog to the beach for surfing and swimming, otherwise there's not much to do but read in hammocks, and watch movies from the owner's DVD collection at night. The internet is spotty, and rarely do we get a signal from our phone...
I remember exactly where I was when I came up with my first annual motto. It was New Year's Eve 1999 ('98 outgoing), and I was sitting on top of a washing machine in the basement of a rental I shared with a rotating cast of 20-somethings resisting the shackles of adulthood. My friend Sean and I were drunkenly blabbering and toasting to the new year, the last of the millennium, and looking ahead at what could be. "The only rule," one of us said, "is that there should be NO rules" Brilliant, I know. But "No Rules '99" really...
