Scottsdale “Waterfront” - Canal Convergence

It may be called a waterfront now, but I knew it way back when. It used to be an old, dusty thing, sometimes dry, sometimes full of Safeway shopping carts, something we walked along, caught crawdads in, next to decomposing dog poop, knowing that somehow that’s where the irrigation water came from, flooding our yards with nastyish water. My, how things have changed.

A Friday Sparkling Spanish Spence dinner double date with the always stunning and debonair Laurel and Russ. We four have been fortunate enough to have had many waterfront din dins all over the world, but on a beautiful night on a brick patio with fountains, twinkling trees, a Spanish waiter, paella and a glistening canal full of art installations, surrounded by brand new row condos, we could have been sitting in any number of fancy cities - take that Europe.

We followed dinner with a birthday party - 30 years since Scottsdale started paying attention to public art - and celebrated with lots of great stories about birthdays, birthmarks and birthrights.

The party continued Saturday with a girls night,

more sparkle, incredible dancing, bar hopping,

even ran into these cool kids, out for a little birthday celebration of their own.

Canal Convergence

Book Club - Between The World And Me

A letter from a father to his son, so powerful it’ll drop-kick you out of whatever fake White bubble you're living in.

Only a couple of us read the book, but we made up for it by surrounding my living room with other words, lots of gratitude, a drinking club with a reading problem, not as wild as in the past, but still full of ourselves.

Sunday Art

Ever feel trapped? After a rough, double-, sometimes triple-duty week, I almost cancelled on a museum stroll with my peeps. But the white shirt exhibit and wine in the cafe beat out a day in bed on a gorgeous Sunday.

Phoenix Art - for the fashionista, up until 3/6. And don’t miss Michelangelo, amazing. 

FREE now on second Sundays!

Saturday Night Live

Art of Merlot

Will Run For Froyo

WE DID IT! 

Our feet were burning at the end, thank God for the salted caramel froyo to help with that! 10K! Plus at least 2 more Ks traveling to and from the parking garage (wish I thought to turn on my runtastic app at the car so I'd get total credit). It was exciting to be surrounded by hundreds of running/walking enthusiasts, blasting music, cheering spectators. We were awarded beautiful heavy silver 10 K spoons, Go froyo! Go us! 

 My mini scoop, Shana, got us another trip to the Froyo Run, but this time, we're doing the 10K. No more wimpy 5K huffing and puffing for us like last year, we're going the distance. I've been "training" with my dog and my runtastic app on the greenbelt, walking up back, up and back, even noticed that my butt seems a bit higher. I'm hoping for a blister and embarrassment-free trek on Saturday in Tempe. 

Two Sheets To The Win

I can't win. I really need a new sofa, but that's not in the 2016 budget, so I'm acting like an old lady, looking like a total cheapskate. The term "double-wide" comes to mind when I check out my new chic sheet sofa decor. I had to cover the scratched up seat cushions somehow since I refuse to reupholster. My sofa is old, well worn and has lived through years of cat claws, dog nails, rough jeans, slumber parties, and solo-tossing-and-turning-spouse-is-snoring nights. It's been dusted and moisturized, but the cracks are showing. I got an estimate for a total facelift as well as just a bit of Botox, but both solutions seem higher than even buying a whole new one. I love this couch. It's wide, cushy, supportive and it fits perfectly, the only symmetrical thing in a strangely shaped room. So, for now, call me trashy if you must, but the sheets are staying.

Lap of Luxury

Water bowls are for pussies.

Wednesday Whine

Ouch.

I spent an hour and a half at a pain management support group tonight, doing a little research. Not for me. I don't have pain much. There's a touchy left hip that occasionally shouts at me (official diagnosis is Mild Bilateral Hip Osteoarthritis - so sexy, I know, from years, I think, of bad shoes, not enough exercise, too many pounds, and coming out of the womb totally flat-footed and pigeon-toed). But that's about it. So, really, I can't complain. But I do. I whine about the long walks I've had to do to get ready for this weekend's 10K. I don't do yoga much anymore, don't hike and don't use my stand-up desk at work very often because I'm tired. Poor thing. But tonight I was reminded of how fortunate I am. One guy remembered the day he fell down on the job and his life changed, 1/23/1967. One 42 year old remembered the day she was diagnosed with MS, 7/24/2011 (when her daughter was three). One lady can't garden anymore and can only eat white bread and cooked vegetables after years of meds and pain and surgeries have led to serious digestive problems. The leader talked about the importance of hobbies and friends and laughter and humor. It made me shut my mouth and truly appreciate all that I have. I came home and my walk around the block with my dog seemed more meaningful, after finding an amazing group for people who need that kind of support.

And for those that don't.

My Heart Can't Even Believe It

I hope Amy doesn't mind me swiping her cover photo now that she's hit the BIG time with her new book. An amazing writer (and teacher. And friend.) with one of the best, sweetest, most intuitive kids, ever. 

I stood alone in the Phoenix airport on a hot June night, giggling, having just discovered the going away gift my barely 10-year-old daughter Sophie left on my phone, in the form of 39 self-portraits and a two-minute video.  

The photos are all close-ups of her face – slightly crooked bangs, more-than-slightly-crooked teeth, smiling, frowning, goofy-with-her-tongue-out. In the video, Sophie alternately sings one of her favorite songs, “Gangnam Style” and begs me to take her along on this work trip to New York City, but mostly she talks about how much she loves me. This is a familiar refrain, and one that for me never gets old. Not yet, at least. 

"You are the best mom I ever had,” she tells me. On homemade cards, in handwriting only I can read, she writes, “I love you because I love you because I love you.” 

And this time, on the tiny iPhone screen: “I love you so much my heart can’t even believe it."

Bar Flies at Valley Bar

Another night of storytelling - funny, deep, personal, but so relatable.

Secret room, stolen seat, douchey guy, fried pickles, first BFF, Let's Talk About Sex, Baby, Let's Talk About You and Me, condoms on the counter, Missionary from hell, like a suitcase without a handle, how a five year old girl can turn your life around, and this one here, the blonde,

who said, "I feel so hip," there in the bar with her Mama and Heather for a late din din.
Perfect ending.