We were on our way to the airport for our vacation to Minnesota, just five minutes out of the driveway, when my wife cheerfully reminded me that once again I had left my sunglasses perched above the visor of her truck. I heard much the same thing as we left for San Diego a few weeks ago. Don’t ask me why I always forget things. And don’t ask my wife either, as she’ll be sure to tell you it’s the beer, which I firmly deny. But I told her not to worry, and I was right. I grew up in Minnesota; sunglasses here are about as necessary as winter survival gear in Arizona. We’re three days into it, and the only way I can find the sun is via Google Sky Map.