Monthly Archives: March 2016

Saturday Smile: O Canada

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The silliest things make me tear up. I saw this YouTube video on Facebook and it seriously brought tears to my eyes. There was a hockey game being played in Canada, the the Toronto Maple Leafs v. the Nashville Preditors. They play both nation’s national anthems, and during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner, the sound system failed. Then, this happened…..

I’ll bet there aren’t many US citizens who would know the words to O Canada. Well played, Canada. Thank you to our friends to the north.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: All the Stars in Heaven

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searchI think it’s fun to imagine the way Hollywood was in its glory days of the 1930s, 40s, and 50s – the days of rolled hair and perfectly drawn bowed lips lush with red lipstick. The days when stars were loyal to their movie studios and cognizant of being role models to their fans.  When movies almost always had happy endings.

That’s what I liked best about All the Stars in Heaven by Adriana Trigiani. Her novel painted a picture of Hollywood as it once was, which is very different from the way Hollywood is today.

Trigiani’s books sort of run the gamut. Her Stone Gap novels take place in the mountains of Virginia. Some of her books take place mostly in Italy. She writes of family and food and romance. She has written books aimed at teens. She has written nonfiction books about eating and cooking with her large Italian family.

But as far as I know All the Stars in Heaven is the first time she’s tackled a novel about real-life people.

All the Stars in Heaven tells the story of Loretta Young and her relationship with Clark Gable. It is fact that Young had an affair with Gable while they were filming The Call of the Wild in 1935. It is also fact that Young had a child from this relationship. Since studios would have nothing to do with stars who committed adultery (or at least stars whose fan’s found out about the adultery), Young had to keep the baby a secret. She had the baby quietly, placed her in an orphanage until the baby was a year-and-a-half, and then brought the baby home, telling the world that she was adopted.

All the Stars in Heaven follows her story quite accurately, if Wikipedia is to be believed (though apparently in real life Young later said she had been date-raped by Gable and the novel makes no mention of that allegation). What the novel DOES make mention of are wonderful stories about some of the movie stars of old. It’s kind of like reading a movie magazine that was published in 1950.

urlI knew very little about Loretta Young, though I remember her from her television show that ran in the late 1950s and early 1960s. And I remember that she was lovely. Spectacularly beautiful, in fact.  I didn’t know, for example, that she was a devout Roman Catholic her entire life. And if the novel accurately portrays Young, she also had a long-time friendship with Spencer Tracy.

See what I mean? Lots of juicy move star facts. Myrna Loy. David Niven. Carole Lombard.

Trigiani presents a fictional character – Young’s longtime secretary and friend Alda – who, in my opinion, really adds nothing to the story. I don’t quite understand why the author felt the need for this character.

All things considered, I enjoyed the book very much. It is perhaps not the best thing Trigiani has written, but it was sort of like standing in line at the grocery store and quietly paging through OK Magazine.

It was a fun read.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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One Dollah
About a year ago or so, the Family Dollar store near us became a Dollar Tree. I think this change transpired because Dollar Tree bought out Family Dollar. Doesn’t matter. I have talked before on this blog about how much I love Dollar Tree stores for certain things. If I’m taking food to a potluck, for example. You can get a large clear plastic bowl which looks fancy if you have macular degeneration and cataracts. But you don’t need to worry about getting that bowl back. Throw it away because how much did it cost? One dollah. Anyway, we went to our friendly neighborhood pizza place the other night which is right next door to Dollar Tree. I was amused to see that The Dollar Tree had a great big sign on the store that said GRAND OPENING. I found it funny and peculiar for two reasons. First, why, a full year later, did they decide to have the grand opening? Second, just what can a Dollar Tree offer as part of their grand opening celebration. Everything is 99 cents?

Pull Up a Trough
As I mentioned, we went to our neighborhood pizza joint and there was nobody working who was older than 20. All kids. This is particularly funny because the clientele is all people 80 or over. Seriously, Bill and I look like the youngins’.The seniors look at us like they are suspicious we just came from a rave. But the pizza is good, I promise. Anyway, the young man took our order. A large pizza (because Bill had a coupon for a free large pizza) and two drinks. At the last minute, I told him, “We will also have the Italian salad.” “Great,” he cheerfully said. “Would you like silverware with that?”

Risen
risen-trailer2-14-1024x428I sometimes consider doing movie reviews on my blog, perhaps in place of my Friday book review. Then I remember that we almost never go to the movies, which inhibits the ability to write reviews. But we recently DID go to the movies. We saw Risen, starring Joseph Fiennes, who I would guess might hold the record for the number of movies in which he’s starred in which he hasn’t cracked a smile. My, that man is somber. I believe the last time he smiled in a movie was in Shakespeare in Love, but that might have been gas. (Maybe this is why I don’t do movie reviews.) Anyway, the movie tells the story of a Roman tribune to whom Pontius Pilate assigns the task of finding the body of Jesus Christ following the resurrection in order to forestall a rebellion.  To try to locate Christ’s body, Clavius must connect with Jesus’ followers, who make him think, hmmmm, perhaps there is something to this story. While traveling a bit with the disciples, Clavius finally meets Jesus in person (and he had seen Jesus die on the cross with his own two eyes), sees him heal a leper, and witnesses Jesus’ ascension into heaven.  I loved the portrayal of Jesus’ followers (though Bartholomew came across as somewhat demented but Peter made up for him). I also liked actor Cliff Curtis’ portrayal of Jesus (Yeshua), a more realistic portrayal 1004841806-oh-col-rise1than the hotty actor who played Jesus in A.D. The Bible Continues. When the disciples – along with Clavius – are in the boat unsuccessfully fishing and the stranger on the shore tells them to cast the net again and they realize it is Jesus, I started to cry. The disciples were so filled with joy and love and it was well-portrayed. I recommend the movie as a good Easter outing.

I Know it Will Fit; I Saw it in a Cartoon Once
Kris nonny cartSo, you know how you get stuck in the grocery line behind those people who are rooting around for their checkbook, or who insist that the Bounty paper towels are on sale and want a price check or are paying in cash down to the penny, but the penny is at the bottom of the purse? Well, yesterday afternoon, Bill and I were THOSE PEOPLE. Bill had seen in the grocery ad that the beer he likes was on sale for some great price at Basha’s. As I mentioned before, we have a Basha’s Grocery Store a block from our house, and I nearly always walk. In fact, the only time I drive is if I am buying something that would be too heavy to carry. I have a two-wheeled grocery cart that I take over with me. I call it my Nonnie Cart because it is similar to the carts that the old ladies all over Italy use to do their daily marketing. I was going over to get the ingredients to make soup, and asked Bill if he wanted to go. Yes, he said. He was positive the beer would fit into the Nonnie Cart. Unfortunately, after all of the groceries were rung up, we began loading – or at least trying to load – the groceries into the cart. It made the most sense to put the beer in first, but we couldn’t get it to fit. And it was a 30-pack, so it was heavy. It had to go on the bottom. Bill worked and worked at trying to get it to fit. The clerk, for her pessimistic part, was insisting that there was no way it would fit. Bill kept trying. (He is nothing if not tenacious.) People are starting to speak to each other under their breaths. I think I overheard someone say where he would like to see that case of beer be placed. After much ado, Bill got it to fit. It wasn’t nice of the clerk to say, “Have a good day, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

The Tooth of the Matter
Bill had dental work done again this week – on Tuesday. He is getting the caps replaced on his front teeth. The dentist removed the old caps, took impressions, and put in temporary caps until he can get the permanent caps put on. So, remember he is unable to chew on one whole side of his mouth for four months from his previous oral surgery. Now he is unable to bite anything with his front teeth. In other words, he has about a half an inch of teeth that he can actually use. We will be eating a lot of soup and smoothies.

Ciao.

If You Knew Sushi

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imagesBill and my brother Dave go twice a year to Phoenix International Speedway and watch cars go around in circles very fast and very noisily. In other words, NASCAR. Bill took me once. I bought a Danika Patrick cap, people-watched, and even watched the cars for a bit. I had a blast, but once was enough. My ears couldn’t take it.

Last Sunday, instead of going to NASCAR, I enjoyed my own quiet day.

Usually when they go to the track, I spend the day with my sister Bec. Last time, she and I went out to lunch and then watched the Broncos at her house until it was clear the NASCAR race was going to be rained out and the Broncos were going to lose. I headed home and beat Bill by mere minutes.

I assumed I would do the same thing this time (sans the rain), but as Sunday crept closer, I realized that what I really wanted to do was, well, nothing. That’s a funny thing to want to do considering I’m retired and so I mostly spend my days doing exactly that. But I do exactly that with Bill.

What I wanted was a day to do nothing by myself.

I’m not a tried and true introvert by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, when Bill and I did our food tour of Old Scottsdale last week, I sort of became BFFs with a couple from North Carolina taking the same tour. After one stop, Bill said to me, “Kris, you’re really a pleasant, outgoing person.”

That’s not altogether true. Put me in a room of strangers at a cocktail party, and I’m a mess. I walk in, see that groups have formed, assume that no one could possibly want to include me in their group, and fidget until someone takes pity on me. But put me in a one-on-one situation (the grocery store clerk, a movie line, a tour group), and I can strike up any number of conversations. I’m not, as Bill thinks, particularly pleasant. Instead, I am particularly nosy. So having spent 15 minutes with my short-lived BFF from North Carolina, I know all about the city of Charlotte, I know what she does for a living, I know where she was born and grew up. I was just getting to her shoe and bra size when the tour ended.

But while I’m not a true introvert, I’m also not one of those never-met-a-stranger extraverts. What I am, however, is someone who needs a break from people. I need time to myself once in awhile to reenergize.

In Denver, I actually have a fair amount of time to myself. Bill is often gone, either out to lunch with friends, hanging out at his favorite cigar shop, or building God-only-knows what in our back yard. Besides, our Denver house, while not a mansion, is big enough that we can avoid seeing each other for stretches of time. It’s got an upstairs.

Here in our 1,250 square foot house in the desert, it is hard to not spend time with each other. And that’s mostly a good thing. But a break is nice.

Sunday, I did very little, but one thing I did give great thought to is what I would have for lunch. Bill almost always goes along with whatever I’d like to eat. There are, however, certain things he simply would never choose to eat. So as I gave thought to my lunch, I kept that in mind.

Mexican food always – ALWAYS – sounds good to me. But Bill likes Mexican food and we eat it often. He also likes hamburgers, hot dogs, sandwiches, even fish and chips. What he will eat –but never choose — is anything Asian.

So what’s for lunch? Sushi, of course.

I got there just after the restaurant opened. While others might complain, I rarely feel like I am ignored if I am by myself. And, in fact, I was seated very quickly and in a nice location. The waiter took my sushi order very quickly. Sushi, of course, takes a bit of time, but I got my eight delicious pieces of sushi nigari in a timely manner.

And then I apparently became invisible. That was fine as long as I was eating my delicious sushi. However, when I wanted a refill on my drink, or was finished and was awaiting my bill, I would have liked to have been visible. But the waiter, who earlier gave me such good attention, simply kept walking as I would say, “Excuse me, Sir?” to his back. I eventually gave up on him and tried to attract the attention of another server. But, see above. I was invisible.

Anyway, eventually I paid my bill (you generally can get even the most stubborn server’s attention if you start heading toward the door), came home, and did what I would never do if Bill had been home. I binge watched Gilmore Girls.

And that’s all I’ll say about that.

A Wink and a Smile

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searchAny of my Catholic readers who still go to church (really, probably any churchgoers who regularly attend a specific service) will agree with me that different Masses or church services have different personalities. It likely has something to do with the kind of music that is being played, or maybe the time of day, or perhaps whether or not it is a high Mass (in the case of Catholics).

For example, often Catholic churches offer a 5 o’clock Sunday evening Mass. When this is so, it is almost always aimed at a teenaged audience. This is a desperate (and I hope, successful) attempt to keep our youth going to church. So the personality of a Sunday night Mass is decidedly different that the 7 or 7:30 Mass that was held that morning, which draws almost exclusively a senior population.

For our part, Bill and I almost always shoot for a Mass that is in the neighborhood of 9 o’clock on Sunday morning. This time frame seems to draw a bit of an eclectic crowd – a mix of old and young, adults and kids, devoted Catholics and those who drop in occasionally. I like the mix.

Once in a while, however, we hit a Saturday evening Mass. There is almost always a specific reason we attend that Mass. For some reason or the other, we will be unable to attend Mass on Sunday. That’s why we were at Mass this past Saturday afternoon at our church in Arizona. Bill was unable to go to Mass Sunday because he was being picked up at the crack of dawn by my brother so they could get to the NASCAR raceway long while the drivers were still wiping the sleep from the corner of their eyes.

Saturday night Mass at our church here in Mesa has a decidedly unique personality. But I bet it doesn’t differ a whole lot from Saturday afternoon Masses anywhere. It’s a bit like going to a joyful – if somewhat irreverent – neighborhood gathering.

For one thing, while the majority of people dress up on Sunday mornings – perhaps not a suit and dress, but at least something they could wear to a nice restaurant – Saturday afternoon it is no holds barred. You will see it all. Shorts, blue jeans, halter tops, a nice dress or two, or something indicating they just stepped off the golf course about 30 minutes ago. I am not complaining. I am in the camp that doesn’t judge what people are wearing as long as they are making the effort to go to church. Heck, I myself, while wearing nice pants and a clean top, had on a pair of flip flops.

People tend to be a bit more talkative and jolly throughout the Mass. So jolly, in fact, that the gentleman behind me – a young man of 30-something – actually gave me a wink during the handshake of peace. Normally, this is a somewhat quiet and softly cordial greeting inexplicably held right before our hopefully solemn reception of the Eucharist. But yep, I got a handshake and a big ol’ wink. I couldn’t help but laugh.

It was kind of a funny service even before The Wink. Our parish is staffed by a pastor, an associate pastor, and a bevy of priests who lived most of their lives in Minnesota and subsequently retired in Arizona. So they hover around the age of 80, but I’m happy to say are a pleasant bunch and quite spry, all things considered. (It’s true, I must admit, there is one who passes out occasionally when the temperature is a bit warm in the church. But he always cheerfully rebounds by the next Mass, so no harm, no foul.) The priest who said our Mass Saturday is one of our favorites. While I know nothing about him beyond the fact that he hails from Minnesota and has been a priest for 56 years (a fact I learned at that very Mass), he has a very pleasant voice and gives an interesting – and almost always quite short – homily, which he has written out on a piece of paper. Saturday was a bit different. Not only was his sermon quite lengthy, but he addressed the wrong gospel.

Occasionally – mostly around Easter – the Church offers two options for the readings. This past weekend, Option 1 was the story about Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead. This gospel is a particular favorite of mine as it includes the shortest verse in the bible – Jesus wept (John 11:35). I love that verse because it reminds me of Jesus’ humanity, and makes me realize that Jesus loves us all so much that he is sad when we fall away from him. Option 2 was St. John’s gospel about the prostitute who was about to be stoned until Jesus reminded the crowd that they were all sinners and suggested let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone (John 8:7).

Our parish chose Option 1. The deacon dutifully read the lengthy gospel about Lazarus being raised from the dead. The priest, who unfortunately either wasn’t listening to the gospel reading or had already written his homily and, by God, was going to give it no matter what, ignored Lazarus and instead talked about the prostitute.  It caught us all off guard for a bit, and you could see people scrambling to figure out how Lazarus (or Lazaruth, which is how the deacon pronounced it for some reason) and the prostitute were connected.

Father’s homily, the Nigerian priest who addressed us at the end of Mass but unfortunately had such a strong accent that we couldn’t understand a single word he said (but he kept holding up two books that I’m pretty sure he wanted us to purchase), and the fact that the drummer in the choir loft upstairs dropped his drum not once, but twice, making considerable noise and startling all of us awake, made for an interesting, if not particularly spiritual, experience.

Oh, and The Wink.

What Time is It?

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imagesI’m in a fight with Daylight Savings Time.

Don’t get me wrong. Overall, I’m a fan of springing ahead. As much – perhaps more – than the next guy, I love that it’s lighter later. I especially love it in the summer when we can – and do – sit out into the evening enjoying our pretty patio outside our Denver house.

The most significant problem I have with Daylight Savings Time is that it comes while we are in Arizona. As you may or may not know, Arizona doesn’t observe Daylight Savings Time. Their resistence is singular among all of the states in our United States. As I recall, there is a stubborn county or two in Indiana which, for inexplicable reasons, also doesn’t move the hands of their clocks twice a year. Arizona’s reason, however, is explicable. Why on earth would anyone want to extend daylight in the summer when temperatures hover in the low hundreds? The setting sun is a welcome sight. The temperature plummets to the 90s at night.

My practical problem with DST is that suddenly, beginning at 2 o’clock in the morning on the day of the time change, my peeps in Denver are an hour ahead of me. My peeps in Vermont are three hours ahead of me.  This reality requires me to do math in order to know if now is an appropriate time to call.

Jen and I talk a couple of times a week, and nearly always while she is driving to work. That is around 8 in the morning. By that time, I have a couple of cups of coffee in me, I have posted my blog and gone through my emails, Bill and I have eaten breakfast, and I am relaxed and ready to talk on the telephone. Now if and when she calls me, it will be 7 o’clock in the morning my time and I am liable to sound more like a zombie than an intelligent human being.

By the way, here is what our telephone calls generally sound like…..

Jen: Did you watch American Idol last night? Didn’t Trent sound so good? I think he is in the running to win.

Me: I did watch, but I was distracted by my concern that J-Lo was going to encounter a wardrobe malfunction and the audience would see more of her than normal, if, indeed, that is possible.

Or maybe…..

Jen: What are you making for dinner tonight?

Me: I put a roast in the crock pot. That way it will be ready when I get home from work. Oh, that’s right. I don’t work any longer.

And NEVER, EVER…..

Me: Did you watch the presidential debate last night?

Jen: Of course I did. The Bachelor was on opposite, but I felt it was much more important to watch the debate.

Me: I agree. Have you decided yet which of the two evils you will be voting for?

Last year Alastair, his father and his Uncle Allen attended the race. Dave had to leave and left Alastair to his Papa Bill's tutelage. I don't believe Alastair has since given up beer and cigars!

Last year Alastair, his father and his Uncle Allen attended the race. Dave had to leave and left Alastair to his Papa Bill’s tutelage. I believe Alastair has since given up beer and cigars!

The other reason for my lack of enthusiasm for the arrival of DST is that our technology gets so confused. Some of them understand the concept of being in Arizona Mountain Time and not Mountain Daylight Time and change accordingly (or more aptly, don’t change), but others don’t. For example, yesterday Bill and my brother Dave went to the NASCAR race at Phoenix International Speedway. Bill dutifully set his alarm for 5:15 because my brother was picking him up at 6. (The race begins at 12:30, but for reasons I don’t quite understand, they feel compelled to get out early to get a jump start on the beer drinking and eardrum splitting.) Anyway, a 5:15 awakening is not terribly unbearable as I nearly always get up sometime between 5:30 and 6 anyway. But at 4:15 our time, Bill’s alarm cheerfully went off. Bill awoke from his dead sleep ready to spring into the shower. It took some gentle, but relentless coaxing to get him to understand that his telephone (on which he had set the alarm) apparently thought it was in Denver and sprang forward. He went back to sleep. I didn’t. We will spend the next couple of days convincing our technology that we aren’t observing DST.

So, friends and family, for the next couple of months, think of me as a Californian. At least as far as what time it is.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Saturday Smile: May the Force Be With You

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(SPOILERS GALORE!)

han and reyYesterday Bill and I went to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I almost called it “the new Star Wars movie”, but realize that we are among the last to see it in the movie theater so it clearly isn’t “new” to most folks. We weren’t alone, however. There were actually quite a few others, mostly senior citizens. But I’ll bet we were the only ones who got in free because Bill got free tickets from his oral surgeon!

I had carefully avoided reading anything about this most recent episode because I wanted to be surprised. I had heard about Han’s demise, however. My brother believes there is wiggle room to bring Han back in further episodes. I disagree. He was pierced all the way through with a light saber and plummeted hundreds of feet into some abyss. I think it’s bye-bye Han, sad as that made me (and Chewie).

For the record, I haven’t seen the three most recently-made Star War movies. I only saw the original three — Star Wars (1977), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), and Return of the Jedi (1983). Court was born in 1980. The Star Wars trilogy was a big part of our lives. He and I watched the movies something like 1,500 times. He had all of the character figurines. He had a toy millennium falcon. He had plastic light sabers. He had X fighters and H fighters and every sort of vehicle imaginable. He LOVED those movies, and frankly, so did I.

So at the beginning of this movie, when the music started, and I saw the narration scrolling across the screen just as it had in those original three movies (and possibly all of them, but see above. I only saw the three originals), I smiled. It made me happy. And I’m not ashamed to tell you (and I swear this is the truth), I teared up when I saw the millennium falcon (though I must admit I can’t quite understand why it took Han and Chewie so many years to find it).

Now I just have one question: If I want to watch ALL of the Star Wars movies, do I watch IV, V, and VI first, and then I, II, and III, or do I watch them in order I, II, III, IV, V, VI, and now VII?

Jessie? Anyone? Anyone?

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Butterfly’s Daughter

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searchAuthor Mary Alice Monroe is quite prolific, and I haven’t ever read a single book she’s written. That always surprises me, because I read a lot. From what I can tell, many – if not most – of her novels take place in the south, primarily the low country of South Carolina. I think most also contain some sort of environmental element, though I can’t say that for sure because, well, see above. First one I’ve ever read.

I’m saying this so that you will understand that I can’t compare this book to any of her other novels, as many reviewers have done. Having said this, I will tell you that I found it to be a pleasant, if not compelling, story.

Luz Avila lives with her grandmother in Minnesota, having been deserted by her mother when she was a small child. Luz believes that her mother is dead. Her abuela (grandmother) announces one day that she wants to travel with Luz back to the small town in Mexico where she was born and reared, stopping in San Antonio on the way to introduce her to other family. Luz declines, and the inevitable happens. Grandma dies. Luz decides to make the trip of which her abuela had dreamed, taking the ashes back to her home town in Mexico.

Driving a beat-up Volkswagen bug, and armed with her grandmother’s ashes, she sets off on a journey that her grandmother would have loved. Along the way, Luz meets a variety of people who have a surprisingly profound impact on her life given that she only knows them a brief time.

While not great literature, The Butterfly’s Daughter was a lovely book that contained some of the elements I like most when reading – interesting information (in this case, the flight that monarch butterflies make yearly from the northern United States to Mexico), delicious sounding food (in this case, Mexican food that made my mouth water), and a bit of romance (just a bit, not too much).

If you are looking for a light read with characters who are, while not unforgettable, at least likeable and interesting, The Butterfly’s Daughter will offer you enjoyable experience.

And if nothing else, read it for the food and the butterflies.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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Jensen7 (2)

Austin and Lilly

Catch My Show in Poughkeepsie
We miss our grandkids a bunch. Oh, we miss our kids too, but what can I say? There is something about our grandkids. Quite frankly, I’m using my siblings’ grandkids as filler because, well, they’re all here. Tuesday night I babysat Austin and Lilly while Mark and Maggie went on a work-related dinner thingy. I decided that there is nothing cuter than 2-year-olds. They can understand everything you say to them. They can communicate with you, either through rudimentary language or, in Lilly’s case, something a bit more vocal. As I watch Lilly, I can hardly wait to get home to see how my own little almost-2-year-old Cole is doing. (He will be 2 in May.) For reasons likely related only to

Cole

Cole

being 2, Lilly thinks I am hilarious. The other night, I used a jack-in-the-box to delight her. I cranked the handle and when the clown (or in this case, the sock monkey) popped out, I threw it up in the air and screamed. You can see how absolutely hilarious this is, can’t you? Well, maybe not, but Lilly certainly did. All 78 times that she had me do it. She belly-laughed each and every time, as Austin looked on in amazement. Apparently, when you’re 5, you aren’t quite as easily amused.

I Suppose You Also Still Leave Voice Messages
Speaking of grandkids, last Friday – the day we were at the baseball game – when I looked at my iPad upon arriving back home, I saw that I had not one, not two, not three, but a total of four missed Facetime calls from 5-year-old Mylee. It was dinnertime, and when I tried her back, no one answered. So, the next morning, which was Saturday, I Facetimed her once again. This time she answered. “Nana,” she said with great exasperation in her voice, “I tried Facetiming you yesterday and you didn’t answer.” I said, “I know, I saw that you called, but we were at a baseball game and didn’t get home until later.” During the course of our conversation, Mylee complained three or four more times that she had tried to Facetime me the day before. Finally, I said to her, “Mylee, listen to me. I don’t have an iPhone. I have an android phone and it doesn’t have Facetime. So I can only get my Facetime calls on my iPad. Since we were at the baseball game, I didn’t have my iPad and therefore didn’t get your call until we got home.” Stunned silence. “You don’t have an iPhone?” she said incredulously. My status fell in Mylee’s eyes that day. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that I let her play with Play Doh at my house and allow her to eat only the cream filling from Oreos, I’m not sure I could rebound.

What Are You Doing Next Friday?
As does nearly any place you go nowadays, Bill’s maxillofacial surgeon (in real-life terms, that’s the guy who yanked out two of Bill’s teeth a couple of weeks ago, inserted an implant, sent him home still reeling from anesthesia, and sent him flowers) asked him to fill out a survey. As incentive to do so, he was promised two free movie tickets. He did fill out the survey and received the two free tickets yesterday in the mail. Flowers and a movie? It sounds more like dating than dentistry!

Finding Nemo
Finding DoraThe other night while watching The Voice, I must have seen one commercial three or four times. The ad was for the fish sandwich being served by Culvers. According to the ad, the fish is flown in unbattered, and each restaurant batters the fish and fries it right at the restaurant. The commercial then showed a close-up of the sandwich, which was flaky and delicious-looking. The tartar sauce was thick and the lettuce looked crisp. By the third commercial, I was determined to try that sandwich. So yesterday we did just that. Bill was a bit perplexed that I would want a fish sandwich on a Wednesday, but once we got to Culvers, he ended up ordering the same thing. He’d seen the same commercials. Well, I will tell you the truth. While no fast food sandwich looks the same as they do in the advertisements, this sandwich was quite good. It was hot and tasted fresh. And the restaurant was packed so we weren’t the only ones who saw the ad. There was a line nearly out the door – all old people (which is how Bill and I describe anyone between the ages of 62 and 73 who aren’t us). Advertising works.

Who the Hell is Dora?
kaiya mylee hatsBear with me. One more grandkids story, this time starring Mylee AND Kaiya. Once again, we were talking on Facetime. I believe it might have been the same conversation where Mylee learned the bitter truth about my telephone. Anyway, I said to them, “Hey! Guess what movie is coming out in June?” They eagerly asked what movie it was. “Finding Dora, I said. They both looked totally and entirely puzzled. “Finding Dora?” they said. “What are you talking about?” I explained that it was a sequel to Finding Nemo. “Oh,” they said in unison. “You mean Finding DORY, not DORA.”

Work with me here, Girls.

Ciao.

Eating Old Scottsdale

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Our winter home is in east Mesa, in the east valley of the ENORMOUSLY spread out metropolitan area of Phoenix. Our imaginary boundaries, however, are ridiculously limited – Gilbert Road to the west (because that’s the nearest Oregano’s Pizza), Dobson Road to the south (because that’s where my sister Bec lives), and Superstition Mountain to the east (because that’s where my brother Dave lives). To the north? Well, I walk over to the grocery store which is a block north of our house, but that’s about it.

I’m exaggerating, of course. But we really haven’t spent a lot of time exploring some of the interesting areas that the Valley of the Sun offers. Shame on us.

But thanks to a gift certificate from Dave and Jll that we received for Christmas, Bill and I actually ventured beyond our invisible boundaries to Scottsdale, where we went on a food tour of Old Town Scottsdale. Our children know us well. An art walk? Probably not. A guided tour of the historical areas of Scottsdale? Nope. Beer and wine tours? I don’t think so.

But a food tour? I am SO THERE. And Bill is by my side.

Finding food in Scottsdale is no problem. The population of Scottsdale is 226,000, and there are over 600 restaurants within the city boundaries. That’s supposedly second only to New York City in restaurants per capita. From the looks of it, a full quarter of those 600 restaurants are in the 10 square blocks or so that make up the Old Town area.

The area looks much like an old western town, frankly because that’s what it was. Sure,Kris and friend Old Town Scottsdale the saloons are now upscale restaurants and bars, and the old post office and dry goods stores are now shops featuring expensive Indian jewelry and contemporary clothing. But if you sort of squint, and use your imagination, you can almost see Roy Rogers and Dale Evans coming toward you riding Trigger and Buttermilk. (Yes, it’s true; I watched many a Roy Rogers television episode at Grammie’s house on Saturday mornings.) You have to look, however, past the tourists wearing $300 sunglasses and $100 jeans from Ambercrombie & Fitch.

margaritaThe tour, which was through Arizona Food Tours took us to several restaurants where we sampled delicious (and contemporary) Mexican food from The Mission and pizza from Grimaldi’s Pizzeria. At The Mission, I splurged and bought what they called the primorita – simply agave nectar, locally-made tequila, and freshly-squeezed lime juice. It was yum. Bill had one too. Later, as we made our way to Grimaldi’s, he told me, “That was really good. I didn’t know I liked margaritas.” Seventy-three is not too old to learn new things, especially when it comes to tequila.

We learned that the Grimaldi’s in Old Town Scottsdale was the first outside of the original Grimaldi’s underneath the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. According to our guide Chrystal, the owner’s son attended ASU and, as so many ASU grads do, decided to make his home permanently in Arizona. His idea? Open up the first non-NYC Grimaldi’s. He followed his father’s recipe to a T, but something was amiss. It didn’t taste the same. When he made a visit back home, his father told him the reason. It was simple, really. It’s the water. So he brought back several 5-gallon containers of NYC water and gave it a try. Voila! The pizzas were the same.

He worked with chemists at ASU and apparently has been able to duplicate NYC’s water, which he uses in the Grimaldi’s Pizzerias here in the Phoenix area. I have tasted the pizzas from the original Grimaldi’s, but I would be unable to confirm or deny. What I can tell you, however, is that the pizza tasted very good.

Outrageous Olive Oil sign (2)The highlight of MY day was a stop at a locally-owned olive oil store called Outrageous Olive Oils. From olive oil expert Heather, we learned the importance of making sure your olive oil is truly, truly, truly cold-pressed and extra virgin. Apparently the ones that promise they are just that are very often big fat liars. The olive oils, of which we tasted very many, were delicious. Even more surprising, at least to Bill, was how sweet and

Owner Dena Armstrong and olive oil and the store tour guide know their olive oils and balsamic vinegars!

Owner Dena Armstrong and olive oil and the store tour guide know their olive oils and balsamic vinegars!

flavorful were the balsamic vinegars. Bill maintains that he is allergic to vinegar. It’s true that vinegar often makes his throat constrict. Because of this, he was surprised at how sweet and delicious the balsamic vinegars were on his palate. He found one that was flavored with dark chocolate (the man can sniff out chocolate anywhere), and can’t wait to try it drizzled on ice cream.

Chocolate balsamic vinegar and tequila. It was a good day for Bill.

It was, in fact, a good day for both of us. The weather was perfect. The food was delicious. We palled up with a couple from Charlotte, NC, who forgave us for a wee bit of gentle gloating about our Super Bowl win, and we finished up our outing with freshly baked cookies. My favorite was a chocolate cookie flavored with cayenne and cinnamon. Who knew?

I hope this is the first of many more experiences outside our boundaries.