Brick Walls and Iron Locked Gates Won't Keep Me From The One I Love

At around 3:30am on Wednesday morning, I woke up hearing clicking noises and scuffling. I was frozen stiff, trying to figure out if the sound was coming from inside or outside. Then a CRASH! and we both lept out of our bed to the window. All was still, and we could see that my green bike had toppled. "The bikes just fell over," said Casson. "Are you sure they are both still there?" I asked. Neither of us could see without our contacts. I went to flip on the porch light, and Lo! Casson's bike was gone. He raced outside and jumped the wall, but no one was in sight. "Well, that sucks." We called the police anyways, to report it. The cop was very friendly and actually seemed to care a lot. He said that the transient population in this area have often been stripped of their driver's license for whatever reason, and so they steal bikes for transportation. That explains all the angry people that Casson passes on his way to work every morning. It's the same people every day, and they never say hello. They must not be out for a pleasant morning bike ride. The cop said that the trouble maker transients also all ride bikes because they can escape the police down alleys and across fields. Well, lesson learned. Our bikes are still on the porch, but three locked together with U-locks will probably be too much to hoist. We're just very grateful that all the person wanted was the bike. And now it's not a bad thing that we haven't yet sold our other car (not that we've advertised it yet), so Casson has transportation to work without having to leave me stranded in the apartment. Not that I'd mind lately. I've started learning to sew...

A Restaurant Review and a Tour of Pinal County

We had breakfast at the Drip Coffee Lounge this morning. Advertising Organic breakfasts and lunches, and a cool atmosphere. Well, yeah maybe. Cold is more like it. Baby boomers in bandanas and their canine companions lined the sidewalk in front of the door. When we approached, we had to walk in the rocks to get around them. One man said of his bandana-necked pooch "I tried to get him to move." Boy did I want to try to get him to move!

Inside the restaurant, one encounters cement and plastic, and I don't just mean in the faces of the waitresses and barrista's, but in the walls, chairs, tables, and utensils, as well. The only comfortable-looking spot in the place was a kind of bathroom lounge area with Basquiat art books on the coffee table just outside the toilet room. The hard part to deal with was that the sink and towels were also in this lounge area, but this area was not really separated from the eating area of the restaurant. So you basically wash your hands next to the people sitting at table letter "A." Yes, each table is lettered.

We ordered our food. I had some granola and Casson had some eggs and toast. He got a coffee, and I had a small juice. We ate our organic breakfast with orange, plastic utensils that had been sitting directly on the table for who-knows-how-long. We drank our coffee and juice from disposable cups. When the young woman came to take our dishes, I asked if we should pay at the counter. She looked at me like I was crazy and just nodded a few head jerks at me. But within a few minutes we felt sorry for her too, because the main barrista lady spent some time yelling at her about the inefficient way she delivered food. Needless to say, but I shall say it, we will not be going back to Drip Coffee Lounge any time soon. And when the time comes that we consider it again, I don't predict that it will still be there.

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But that's my critical piece. The good part was that we were full and happy. We hopped on the 10 south, and headed to the Casa Grande Ruins in Coolidge. The temperature was in the 70s for most of the day, so we had decided to stay around Phoenix for this weekend's explorations. Casa Grande Ruins were built by American Indian peoples who lived and multiplied in and around the Gila River Valley for centuries, I think starting around 300ad. They are now called the Hohokam, which was a name given to them by a later tribe, the O'odham, but might be the ancestors of those very same people. Hohokam just means "used up," which I think might be interpreted "the people that were here before and are gone now?" Whatever. We enjoyed seeing the ruins, but mostly we sat in the cool shade and thought about what the heck it means that these people were here and built this and now it's abandoned. We also saw a Northern Flicker Woodpecker who lives in a cactus, and a Round-Tailed Ground Squirrel, who liked to jump. Mom, I think you'll appreciate the bird picture.

Then we went to Florence, the Pinal County Seat. A once-thriving mining town that sort of transitioned to agriculture as its main reason for existence. Back in the day it must have been beautiful. Today it is a bit dusty and deserted and has the kind of picturesque-ness that rusty iron and run down barns have. The Old Pueblo Mexican Restaurant, however, definitely justifies the continued existence of the town. Pretty much the best machaca and chile rellenos ever. Anyways, Casson toured the McFarland State Park (old courthouse and fire station) while I experienced slight heat exhaustion and swelling on a porch bench in the shade.

Next destination was Box Canyon. We chose it because there is a little star on the map indicating that it is a sight to see. We pulled onto a dirt road (Price Road) and followed it along the Union Pacific RR tracks for about 10 miles, 'til we passed what we think was the town of Price, and started heading up into the White Canyon Wilderness. Jeeps and 4-wheelers were passing us the other way in huge packs, so we knew we were headed somewhere exciting. The road started to narrow. It looked like we were headed directly into a rock wall, when we saw a crack in the rock, straight up on both sides. This was Box Canyon. Our Super-Roo made it a couple of miles in before we knew that we needed either a jeep with higher clearance, or a shovel to fill in the road. But just look at the coolness of this road. Yes, I got out and took pictures of Casson driving down the cool road.

On the way back to the highway, along Price Road, we spotted two snakes. The snakes come out in May for their mating season. Check out the California King Snake and the Rattler (the first one I've ever seen alive!). The rattler had been staring at us from the center of the road as I was trying to get my camera ready, but then he took off into the grass, but I got a shot of his rattle.

A Stereotype: White Lady With a Mission

Sorry, I don't do much these days except eat, sleep, and read books about birth, experiences which are not so interesting to hear about, I'm sure. Anyways, I'll try to think of something. The Quinn's came over on Friday evening for dinner. We ordered pizza. We loaned Amy the pool key so she can come float everyday. She's expecting her third child about the same time we are, so we sort of have a lot going on in common right now. She brought ice-cream, brownies, and strawberries, so I skipped my diet. Actually my sugar level was still fine even after eating a whole bowl. I've been testing Casson's too, to show him how badly it hurts. But he's usually a lot lower than me, which might prove the whole thing sort of true. Yesterday we went to Josh Ashurst's graduation party. He graduated from seminary on Friday. His parents were in town for the occasion, from Idaho. Sara (Josh's sister) is going to interview for a live-in nanny job in New Jersey this week. If she gets it, she'll sell her car and move there in a couple of weeks, to be gone for who-knows-how long. Emily (Sara and Rachel's roommate) is moving to St. Louis in July to go to graduate school. So, Rachel will be on her own in that house of hers. She's got Carlos next door who watches out for her, though. Rachel and Emily and I went out for brunch this morning at the Grande L'Orange, where we did battle for a table. Then I spent the afternoon writing thank you notes to the 40 people at work that showered me with baby gifts...mostly pink outfits. Our closet has more baby clothes than grown-up clothes. Which reminds me of why I'm mad: at the store that we all hate to love, there are those $1 sections. Well, I was going to buy four sets of baby hangers for a dollar each. They were cheaply made, but they are hangers. Who cares? Then I was looking for sheets in the regular baby section, and there they were selling the same number of hangers for .97... and much nicer quality. This is a WARNING against believing that the $1 section is a good deal. It's 10:00 on Sunday night, and Casson is still not back from Sedona, though he called, and they're almost home. He went mountain biking about 12 hours ago with Mike and Dave. Lately I don't really like being home alone, so I went shopping for no reason. But it was nice to just walk around in the air-conditioned stores, not really thinking of buying anything. I needed the exercise. Plus it's just nice to be around people, even strange people: There was a 12-year-old looking boy speaking to his mother in Spanish, saying over and over "I see your mustache, mom. You better get them transplanted. You have a mustache. Ah, a mustache. Look at your mustache!" And he was getting in her face and pointing at her lips. She was just sort of ignoring him, trying to look for the shirt she was interested in. I wanted to go whack him. I hope this is not a sign of a lack of patience. Then there was the lady in the blue t-shirt and jeans, crossing the street with a Walgreen's bag in her right hand, an angry fist for a left hand, and a lit cigar in her mouth, which puffed smoke at what appeared to be a normal breathing rate. But I love Saturday's in Phoenix at mall's and big discount stores, though not if I want to buy anything. There are countless hispanic families out shopping together (mom, dad, and all the kids). And I always feel so stereotypical as a white female. Reason being that all the other white females I see on these days are also on their own, just like me. And we're always walking twice as fast as everyone else. And we're all probably blogging about it, too.