First Friday

Left the Scottsdale bubble and hit the barstools at Portland's for a pre-art drink, catching up with the gals and running into friends from the 'hood before heading to Legend City Studios (not the beloved Legend City from my youth)

where we saw some awe-inspiring art, mingled with the artists, including Maggie's groovy niece, Diomira,

who did this to her back today (OMG - never would have seen that at the original Legend City) before strolling down Roosevelt Row where art, boutiques, kettle corn and the ten o'clock Zombie Parade capped off a fun night.

Whoa...who were those two guys?

Early voting starts 10/11 - Vote (in person is best)

Movie Madness - Unforgivable

Kept the Pine Party going with a trip to Venice. Cool movie, if you can keep up.

Downton Divas

Fun weekend up in the pines with some of the warm ones.

9/29/12

See ya, Shana

Shana asked, "Are you going to cry?" I don't know how many empty nest eves one can take. It's been a fun long summer (late spring and early fall, too) with Shana under the roof, but she's flying the coop again. Off to an apartment with some roomies. Still close, but it will all change again.  The quiet house. We decided if she moves back in again, she'll be a loser. The one that couldn't hack the real world. Nobody wants that. So no tears this time.      

At least none that she'll see...

Carmona

Carmona!

Encouraging article by Howard Fineman Carmona - could he turn AZ blue?

Carmona for Arizona website

Orange Sky

Orange Sky dinner, wine on the pooled patio, Camelback Mountain turning orange, downstairs to dance to Toto's Africa, then back up to the view, mountain black, city lights twinkling and a bottle of Champagne to toast twenty-eight years. 

Happy Peace Day

Got our Day of Peace fix at The Franciscan Renewal Center, after some pre-peace bread and wine at El Charro, for some great music, uplifting stories and a little girl in a blue tutu that stole the show.

Amen!

Click

Hey, Facebook friend, one more Birther crack and we’re through. I realize we haven't spoken since high school, but when did you become such a shit? Last I remember, we were drinking Tab and dancing to Pat Benatar. Now you’re posting vile, quick-fire responses to the Fox News survey question: Are all Democrats Christian-hating, lazy, crackheads on welfare?

          Back in the day, we had such fun racing to Taco Bell during twenty minute lunch periods. Now you’re loading up on waffle fries at Chick-fil-A to protest “the gays” and threatening to homeschool your kids since the evil First Lady forces poisoned apples down their throats.  When we went treat-or-treating at pro-choice Barry Goldwater’s house, I don’t recall you throwing eggs, yelling “baby killer” when they handed out candy, but now you type it all the time.  And when did you become such a racist? I know you didn’t get your warped view staying up late with me on Saturday nights to watch Eddie Murphy in our totally whitewashed neighborhood, so who taught you to hate? Your parents always seemed so nice.

Shut up, already, about the lame stream media. You graduated from high school. You know how to read. Spewing “Obama is a Hitler-worshipping Socialist Muslim” every night just makes you sound like an idiot. Try to come up with an actual fact and quit repeating ditto-headed talking points like “voter fraud is the greatest problem of our time.” Remember science class? Evolution actually happened. So did global warming. Did you ever hear my mom shout, “Girls, hurry, get inside, there’s a haboob coming?” No? Neither did I. 

Do you know anybody that lost a home or couldn’t afford medicine for the kids after a job was shipped to China? Just because we grew up in suburbia paradise, trust me, it's safe to get out of the bubble every now and then, climb down from your blurry Citizens United merry-go-round, riding up and down on fancy ballet horsies named Pfizer, Exxon and Chase and take a good look around.

            It’s not like I hate Republicans. Some of my best friends are Republicans. We may disagree, but there’s still love and respect between us, while all your redeeming qualities seem to be stuck back in the 80s. But at least here in fake Facebookland I can stop the ALL-CAPS YELLING with just one mouse click. So, for now, you know where you can put your NObama yard sign, right? Have fun at your post-election pity party and good luck with that whole “moving to Canada” thing. Maybe you can fly down for our thirtieth reunion next year. The election will be over and, if the world hasn’t ended, we can talk about the old times. But until then,

click.