Monthly Archives: November 2015

Thursday Thoughts

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Cutting Back
beebleberriesSince we arrived on Saturday, Bill has been busy getting this and that in order. He vowed to not undertake any projects that would take the entire just-over-two-weeks that we are going to be here, but man, that fellow has a hard time staying still. Thus far he has trimmed back lots of bushes (including that infernal acacia tree in our front yard about which I blogged). He has an ongoing battle with that particular tree, with the tree, I’m afraid, mostly coming out the victor. It’s pretty, but it goes from little yellow puffballs that eventually fall on the ground to little brown pods that eventually fall on the ground. Do you see a pattern here? And to top it off, the tree is covered with thorns, making for a difficult trim. But in addition to landscape maintenance, he has fixed a toilet as well as worked on our washing machine. In the meantime, as he works, I sit and read.

Pizza Pizza
It took nearly three full days, but Bill finally got his Oregano’s Pizza on Tuesday. It’s probably his second favorite pizza place, after Fox’s Pizza in Chicago. We drove to Chandler to visit Bec, and enjoyed a glass of wine and a cigar (well, Bill alone enjoyed the cigar) on her patio before we all went to her neighborhood Oregano’s. A big salad that we split three ways and a ginormous thin-crust with sausage and capicola. We didn’t eat it all, but I’m embarrassed by just how little we took home. Yum.

Speaking of Pizza….
I recently read an article that spoke on research being done linking carbs to dopamine production. As you may or may not know, Parkinson’s is the result of the brain’s decreased production of dopamine. According to the research, eating carbs results in an increase in dopamine (which is related to feelings of reward and pleasure). I don’t necessarily take articles about research results very seriously because I theorize that there is alleged research to support nearly any hypothesis. However, it certainly could have something to do with Bill’s love of pizza, no? He seriously could eat pizza for every meal, and nearly did when he was single.

Brrrrr
The so-called “cold front” about which the Arizona weather people fretted did, in fact, come through. The front resulted in highs yesterday of that hovered in the mid-60s. It rained intermittently, and whether or not you would be rained upon depended on where you were located. My sister Bec who lives in Chandler texted me in the morning to tell me she had been sitting on her patio enjoying her morning coffee when it started to rain. I looked outside only to see blue skies. The rain, however, did appear eventually. It was a nice change of pace. The windows were open and a cool breeze kept the house comfortable. I made a pot of ham and bean soup because it seemed appropriate. And, while I laugh at the excitement about weather conditions here in Arizona, I’m reminded that the entire state isn’t necessarily like here. In fact, they got snow in Flagstaff yesterday.

More Reluctant Traveler
One thing I didn’t mention in yesterday’s post about our off-interstate travels as we drove to Arizona is that on Saturday, rather than taking I-40, we got off in Grants, NM, and took a series of two-lane highways that eventually led us to Mesa. It was a tad bit slower, but very pretty. Part of our drive took us through the Malpais Indian Reservation….

malpais reservation

Ciao.

Reluctant Traveler: Happy Turquoise Trails to You

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Bill and I have made the drive between Phoenix and Denver approximately a million times. Well, I’m exaggerating, but it has been very, very many times. For the most part we have not deviated from the quickest route. Oh, it’s true once in a while we have taken I-40 all the way to Flagstaff and come in from the west if the weather is iffy. But most of the time we take I-25 south to I-40, get off I-40 in Holbrook, AZ, and take a couple of state highways that bring us right down into Mesa almost directly to our house.  It’s a pretty drive and we know it like the back of our hands.

But a couple of months ago I read a light-weight mystery called Sister Eve: Private Eye, by Lynne Hinton. I didn’t review the book because frankly I didn’t like it much. It had so much potential – a Catholic nun investigating murders; seemed like it could write itself. But it simply didn’t read well, or at least not to me. Since it’s a series, I might try the next one to see if the author got any better.

Anyhoo, one thing I did like about the Sister Eve book is that it took place in an area of New Mexico about which I was unfamiliar. The good sister lived in Madrid, New Mexico, a town on New Mexico State Highway 14, which runs basically between Santa Fe and Albuquerque. This highway is referred to as the Turquoise Trail because from as early as 900 A.D., the Pueblo people mined turquoise, that beautiful blue-green stone which screams SOUTHWEST. (See how I indicated screaming by capitalizing the letters? Sometimes my cleverness astounds even me.) There are several little tiny communities along that trail, but Bill and I stopped in only one – Madrid. We stopped because it was the community with which I was familiar from the book, but also because it was just so darn cute.

madrid nm

Madrid (which apparently is pronounced with the accent on the first syllable as emphasized over and over by Sister Eve) sits at about the middle of the Turquoise Trail. Though turquoise was probably mined there at one time, the bulk of what was pulled out of the mountains surrounding Madrid was coal, and lots of it. No more, of course. In fact, the town sat nearly vacant after the coal market went away, and the Wall Street Journal advertised the whole town for sale for $250,000 in 1954. Dang, I wish my dad had bought it. I could be mayor.

As I mentioned, there are a number of towns on the Turquoise Trail, but the day that Bill and I traveled that lonesome road (and it was, indeed, lonesome), it was raining and not conducive to exploration on foot. We did park our car and enter one jewelry store where I bought a couple of pairs of turquoise earrings (when in Rome……) for a great price. There were only a few people in the store, and at one point the lone salesman left to go look for a box for another customer, leaving me to peruse the earrings. It made me laugh, however, because the earrings were sitting out in the open, as was much of the jewelry. He was gone for quite some time, so had I been an evil-minded crook, I could now own 20 or 30 sets of turquoise earrings, a handful of rings, and enough necklaces to look like an African princess. You’ve gotta love the trusting souls of Small Town America.

jewelry counter madrid nm (2)

As we left the little store (which does a much better job with its jewelry than it does its coffee – just sayin’), Bill made friends with the store’s greeter, a friendly metal one-piece mariachi band.

metal statue madrid nm

Since the scenic Turquoise Trail bypass took only a little bit longer than the normal drive from Santa Fe to Albuquerque, I recommend a detour if you’re ever in the area. I definitely want to go back some day when the skies are as blue as the turquoise jewelry!

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Haters Gonna Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate

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I feel the earth move under my feet
I feel the sky tumbling down
I feel my heart start to trembling
Whenever you’re around. – Carole King and James Taylor

searchBill and I returned to our home in Mesa, AZ, on Saturday night and are busily getting settled in for a couple of weeks, at which time we will return to Denver for the holidays.

Sunday night, during a break in the Broncos/Patriots game, I took the opportunity to take a quick shower. At some point, something happened. I wasn’t really concentrating, but I felt like the earth shook very briefly. It sort of passed through my mind that something weird just took place, like an earthquake? Nah. That thought went away and never returned. Because, well, we’re in Arizona, not California.

Yesterday morning I got a text message from my niece Maggie. Did you feel the earthquake? the text said. Suddenly it all came back to me. I immediately called her.

“Was there really an earthquake?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she assured me.

“What time?” I asked.

“Around 11:30 at night,” she replied.

Well, I was pretty sure I was sound asleep at 11:30 and wouldn’t have felt anything, or would have recalled it if I did. Still, I was pretty sure I had felt something earlier in the evening.

Later I discovered that there had actually been three small earthquakes – the one I apparently felt at 8:45ish, and another two somewhere between 11:30 and midnight. I wasn’t losing my mind. Well, arguably I am losing my mind, but at least not about feeling an earthquake.

I have never before felt the earth move under my feet; in fact, have only listened to the song by Carole King. Perhaps if you live somewhere in California, particularly near San Francisco, when you feel unexpected movement under your feet, you recognize right away that you are experiencing an earthquake. When you are from Colorado and you feel the earth move under your feet, you think you shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine or maybe you are getting too excited about the Broncos game.

Weather is a big deal here in Arizona. The earthquakes, though small (3.2, 4.0, and 4.1 – small enough to sound a bit like college GPAs) were the talk of the news people here in the Phoenix metro area, second only to Taylor Swift getting sued by someone for allegedly stealing the lyrics to Shake it Off. Here in Arizona, we don’t worry too much about a Russian plane crashing midair, at least not when Taylor Swift is being sued. Arizona has its priorities. She led the local NBC affiliate’s 5 o’clock news program. Sigh.

No matter, because both the earthquakes and Ms. Swift were quickly forgotten when the weather folks realized a cold front was heading this way. I promise you I’m not kidding when I tell you that the meteorologists are up in arms about the imminent cold weather. That’s the word they use – cold. It will be in the 60s. Remember, however, they are coming from a summer of 110 degree days. Sixty degrees feels cold. It’s all relative.

In the meantime, I am awaiting the aftershocks of the earthquake. It goes without mentioning that I am also bracing myself for the aftershocks of the Taylor Swift situation should the singer/songwriter be determined to be a lyrics thief.

The Importance of Being Important

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O when the saints go marching in
When the saints go marching in
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in. – Author unknown, but song made famous by Louis Armstrong

There comes a point in everyone’s life – at least everyone over the age of 55 or 60 – when you start asking yourself, how did I get to be this age and just what have I accomplished in my life. For me, it hit quite early – somewhere in the neighborhood of 30. There were probably a lot of reasons for this, not the least of which was that I was going through profound marriage difficulties that ultimately resulted in divorce. Nothing makes you feel like a great success more than a divorce. I’m being sarcastic.

For others, it may be when you turn 40, or maybe 50. Here I am, you might say, 50 years old and I’m still not a millionaire. Or I still haven’t gotten my MBA. Or there is no Corvette in my garage. Or I don’t have a garage.

When you think about it, however, it’s all about how you measure success.

350px-All-Saints

The Forerunners of Christ with Saints and Martyrs, a painting by Fra Angelico, 15th century.

Yesterday was November 1, and Catholics (and probably some other religions) celebrated All Saints Day. For Catholics, it’s a holy day of obligation, meaning we are supposed to attend Mass, no matter on what day of the week it falls. In a most unsaintly way, I am always glad when it falls on a Sunday, thereby killing two birds with one stone. Shame on me.  It’s probably likely there will never be the word “saint” before my name.

I don’t know if it was because it was All Saints Day or if it was in the regular church reading cycle, but yesterday’s gospel was from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as told by St. Matthew.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus went on to say, “Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.

Jesus’ testimony to the crowd, and therefore to us, isn’t anything new. A few weeks ago he told his disciples that in order to get to heaven, we have to have the faith of children. This time he reminds us that people with simple faith and simple needs will be first in line to greet St. Peter.

Gospel readings such as this one remind me how complicated Christian people sometimes make our faith. We get caught up in political righteousness when it seems to me really all God expects of us is to have a simple and pure faith in him and kindness to others. Love God and love one another. I found our priest’s homily meaningful. He said that while we all measure success by how much money we have or how successful we are in our professional lives, or even how successful our children are, in reality the Beatitudes are Jesus’ blueprint for success. Boom.

It’s not complicated. And it wasn’t complicated for most of the saints. They modeled their lives after Jesus, and now we should model our lives after them.

I’ll try, as long as I don’t have to live off locusts and honey like St. John the Baptist.

ReinieBy the way, When the Saints Come Marching In was played at my father’s funeral, partially because he was a fan of Louis Armstrong, but mostly because he was one of those saints that marched right in!