A Monday kind of Tuesday

Last minute lipstick call after a long, long day with the feels like a Monday crowd at the great new neighborhood joint Grassroots. All local and organic-y. Yummy "social hour" menu for the harem.

What happens in Vegas?

Seems like if you're a bunch of beautiful 21-year-olds - lots!!

Topia at DGB

I'm not the biggest ballet fan. I love a good holiday Nutcracker and every now and then something a bit more contemporary will hold my attention, but truthfully, I'm usually just wondering how in the world they stay so perfect - heads high, toes impossibly pointed, ballet buns so tight - without just letting loose for a minute. Tonight, Topia at Desert Botanical Gardens gave me the best of both worlds. An hour long pre-show on a gorgeous cool, breezy night overlooking Papago Buttes with sort of a backstage pass to watch the dancers, in various stages of dress, sweat pants, t-shirts, not a fairy tale princess skirt to be found, jumping around the stage, stretching, working the barre, joking around, relaxing. The fun side. Then, once the show started, along with the stunning performances, total perfection, on stage, we could still see the fun behind-the-scene activity. The waiting dancers, laughing, even slouching. Yes, I saw one slouch. There was no slouching on stage as they gracefully, happily, lovingly, violently moved through some amazing scenes, guys dancing with guys, girls with girls, leaping across into each other's arms. Just beautiful. The desert added so much to the night, mountains turning red then purple behind the stage, Palo Verde trees all lit up in a rainbow of lights. Wow.

Girls on the Rocks

A little of this, then a little of that...

The Girls on the Rocks met at the great Soul Cafe on Pinnacle Peak for some mango, kiwi juicy goodness for a mid-week pow wow while playing a little catch up on the graduations, the summer plans. Then today, wow, what a day. Cold morning in May? Headed up Gateway trail for another laugh-fest trek through the desert.

In The Closet

Just Say No

The other day someone asked what I would do if Shana had a knock down, broken beer bottled, boy-girl, high decibel, probably fifty people blow out at our house without permission. I thought to myself (or maybe out loud) - Shana wouldn't do that. The dozens of times we had been over that issue came flashing back. All the times she asked and I said no. But, MMmoooommmm, she would whine after each attempt. It was probably at her fourth grade birthday slumber party when I had to separate two characters in a raging girl fight in the middle of the night when I realized, these little people can't be trusted. There were many parties after that at our Kool Aid house, every year getting louder and later. The next mornings we would review. Remember the neighbors? The kids you babysit next door? The older couple across the street? What about the mess in the grass? Go clean it up. A couple of times in high school Shana even realized she needed me home, after it took a mom to clear the big boy trucks with the blaring stereos off the street. Not that the kid gave up. I had to keep the Nos coming even as recently as this Christmas. Exhausting, I know. After years of the "no alcohol in my house unless you're twenty-one" rule (something about worrying about the law, drunk kids' probably drunk parents suing me or, God forbid, losing one of Shana's friends because I was a doormat) she proposed a holiday beer pong party. You and Dad can go to a hotel, she said. Take a break. A little staycation. Isn't she sweet? I said no. But, MMmmmooooom. Everybody's old enough! You're not. Well, I won't drink. Right. So, yes?

No.

A Bitchin' Time

How Grand

Book Club - The Night Circus

The circus arrived without warning.


Sort of like the book club. A bunch of colorful (and some black and white) characters surrounding the bonfire (or Laurel's magical kitchen island), moving from tent to tent to see what the next door holds.