A So Cal Girl in the Desert

Before I get to the part about the exploring, I have to tell you, at my stepson's request (don't worry, he doesn't actually read the blog, he just knows about it), about what our dog, Kermit, did last night. We went to the bark park at about 9:30 PM, when it was cool enough for him to run around. There weren't too many dogs there, but there was one in particular who couldn't get his nose out of our dog's butt. It was literally like a magnet or crazy glue or something. He even lifted Kermit's hind end up a couple of times so it looked like he was wearing him as a mask. Poor Kermit was on the run the entire time. It must have been exhausting, and the stupid owners rarely called their dog off or grabbed him. After all of the exercise and excitement, we got in the car to head home. Kermit gulped down a bunch of water from his portable bowl, and when we were just about home, he started to do that gagging "I'm about to throw up" thing that dogs do. Well, he's on my lap in the front seat, so my stepson is cracking up as I'm saying "Pull over! Pull over! He's gonna puke!" My husband is saying he can't because we're on the highway. Damn! The dog is still gagging and choking, so I unroll my window and stick his head out, just in the nick of time. "EHHHHHHHKKKKKKHHHHHH..." he erupted, and as we're speeding down the highway all of the puke went splattering across my stepson's window. I thought he was going to pee in his pants laughing. He was laughing so hard he was barely breathing. I didn't find out until we got home that Kermit had also puked all over my shorts. I guess I wasn't as efficient with the window-opening as I thought I was. That really made the kid laugh. Now I'm going to make him do the laundry and see how funny it is then. This is how Kermit looked...



Today was much calmer. We went (sans Kermit) to explore Old Scottsdale. We walked around and looked in all the Southwest shops. They have some great stuff, and I think we'll definitely be back for furniture once our home is complete. In one jewelry shop, a lady gave my stepson a little bear carved by the local Native Americans. He thought it was really neat, and told me that we could pretend it was a dog, if I wanted to. He knows me so well. I was fine with it being a bear, though. The lady told him that it was for protection and healing. He seemed to really subscribe to it, which was nice to see. Most things at his age are met with "yeah, right," so this attitude was refreshing. He carried that thing around all day.

We went to a restaurant called "The Border" for lunch. The atmosphere was "southwest industrial." They claimed to have the best burgers, and they did. We shared a BBQ burger after chowing on "Fried Green Beans." We had to have them. When have you ever heard of that? They were encrusted with coconut and chili flakes and fried. Sounds weird, and it is, but it was delicious.

After Old Scottsdale, we went to an Asian market near our apartment. We were on a mission to find Mae Ploy sauce, which is much easier to find in California. We had fun poking around all the new foods and scaring my stepson with dried anchovies and chicken feet. We found the Mae Ploy and purchased some Bok Choy, too. We're looking forward to going back when we have more time to explore. When we stepped out of the store there was a huge dust storm. We ran to the car, and when we were pulling out of the parking lot my stepson said "Good thing I have my bear!" Awwwwwww! Sometimes he's so damn cute! After the Asian market we had to stop by the regular old grocery store. It was still dust storming when we got there, and my step son said to me, "Kristen, you can hold the bear this time, if you want." Isn't he the best?

It was a great family day. I'm really enjoying our adventures together...so glad we moved here.

We tried a new restaurant last night, and it was awesome! It's called "Shabu Fondue."

Overall, the apparent decor goal was modern, hip, a teeny bit Asian, and sort-of Vegas club-like. They had a four-story lit-up liquor wall that was striking. The bar area was separated from the rest of the restaurant by a huge wall of glass, allowing it to be separate from the restaurant, yet visually open. People are still allowed to smoke in certain establishments in AZ, so the glass wall was great. You could be part of the party without having to smell it. We had to wait for a table, so we went outside to the bar patio. The weather was so nice. Probably about 90º. As we were sipping our drinks, we realized that the chairs we were sitting in were the same chairs we had on or patio in California. We got them at Lowe's, so we found it funny that this oh-so-hip-and-now place would purchase furniture there. The chairs fit in nicely, I must say. My husband also noticed that they had an item on the bar menu that was very familiar. He'd seen it at the Liquid Kitty before. Here it was called "The Kickstarter," and was a cheap beer (something like Pabst), a cheap shot of tequila, and a cigarette. "They stole that from the Liquid Kitty!" he said. When we were sat at our table, my husband and I started discussing the room. He said he felt like it was a blend of some restaurants he had been in in California. Our table was elevated by about half a story with six other tables (a feature my husband says is a trend now to make diners feel like they are at an "exclusive" table), so we had a nice view of the whole restaurant. In the center of the room was a u-shaped Shabu Shabu bar with burners, and there were tables all around it. One wall was brick, and the others were painted red. There was a lot of black and red in the room with touches of cream. The lighting was dim. Then we started noticing individual items. The chandelier...could have sworn we saw that in IKEA. The bar stools...IKEA? The flatware...IKEA! The divider curtains...definitely IKEA!

Okay, now I'm in love with this place. See, I love hip and cool restaurants, but in Los Angeles you also have to deal with the restaurant owners and staff who turn their noses up at you if you're not as hip and cool as their restaurant. You also have to deal with the other customers who think they are way more hip and cool than you are. So the fact that this restaurant bought all their shit at Lowe's and IKEA really brought it down to earth. It's amazing how stunning the room looked when none of the individual elements cost more than $9.99. Plus, all the people were totally nice. Staff and customers. I've found heaven. A hip and cool restaurant without all the hip and cool bullshit.

Our waitress was kinda cheeerleaderish, but not in the chain restaurant kind of way. More in the "I'm a spaz" kind of way. But she didn't pretend to know more than she knew and was super sweet, so we were down with the rah rah. When my husband ordered a bottle of wine, she asked "Is that a red one or a white one?" I loved her for that. So much better than searching all the reds and whites for twenty minutes, and then bringing out the wrong thing because she couldn't remember what we ordered after all that searching. If you don't know, ask. How honest and refreshing. We took a look at the menu. It was divided into "Shabu" and "Fondue." Makes sense. If you think about it, pairing the usual flavors of shabu shabu and fondue is pretty weird. We were clueless about portion sizes or what we should order, so we asked. Miss Rah Rah told us that a great thing to do would be to order a cheese fondue as an appetizer, then each order a shabu entree, then finish off with a chocolate fondue. Yum! Sold!

We shared a spinach and artichoke cheese fondue to start. We dipped bread, apples, tortilla chips, and pretzels. I could have done without the chips and pretzels. We'll know for next time. The fondue was great! Then we shared three shabu shabu entrees: prime rib, shrimp, and vegetables. Everything was delicious. My stepson had so much fun cooking his own food. Oh, and there were six different dipping sauces. Ponzu, horseradish, peanut sauce, garlic teriyaki, BBQ, and something else. After dinner, we ate chocolate fondue with strawberries, pineapple, marshmallows, graham crackers, and cherries. Yum!

Toward the end of the meal, with chocolate all over his face (and I mean he was eating it rough), my stepson announced to Miss Rah Rah that "our dog's middle name is Piggy!" Why that came to mind at this particular time, I don't know. Could have been the chocolate face mask he was wearing. She didn't miss a beat. "Oh yeah? Well my rat's middle name is McNugget!" Totally on the same level. They then discussed the benefits of rats and guinea pigs, and my stepson told all about how a guinea pig is a big responsibility and how his teacher is giving them away for free and how his parents might let him get one. She talked about how her rat sits on her shoulder while she does her homework and can even do tricks. Friends for life!

My husband asked about the restaurant. We found out that it's independently owned by three college friends who traveled to California and incorporated what they liked from several restaurants into their own Arizona restaurant. So that explains it! It totally, surprisingly works! So thumbs up on Shabu Fondue! Down to earth--yet hip--friendly, delicious, and fun! We'll be back for another feast.

We discovered yesterday that my stepson has some sort of a blood blister on one of his fingers, we think from climbing around on the rocks of the saltwater pool. Just a few minutes ago he walked up to me and pointed to the two pens laying on the desk with one hand and showed me the blood blister with the other. "Don't poke either one of those pens into this," he commanded. What the hell? What is he thinking? "Sweetheart, why would I do something like that?" I asked. He answered, "Well, when I was at school yesterday I wanted to try and figure out what would hurt and what wouldn't, so I poked a pencil into it and it hurt. So I'm just telling you not to poke those pens into my blister." Good thing he told me, because I was just about to do that. Maybe if I use a different pen...

I was telling my brother-in-law on the phone last night about how we were getting ready to go to the house of a friend of our new friends, Mr. and Mrs. D. How we didn't know the people, but it's really great to have the opportunity to meet new people through our new friends and all that jazz. He said "You guys are dating again!" So true. We're like dating friends. Moving to a new town and entering the "social scene." Only it's not the singles arena (thank GOD), but the family one. That's even worse, if you think about it, because there's so many more people who have to get along in order for the relationship to work.

So far we're great at this family dating thing. We met such cool people last night! Some real characters. And they have a killer pad. The guy works for one of the prominent home builders out here, so he got this extra large lot with a bunch of upgrades on the house. They bought three years ago when there were only nineteen new homes in Maricopa and you couldn't even walk from one to the other. So their house has pretty much quadrupled in value. Nice. They have a huge grassy backyard with a trampoline, air-conditioned play house, sand box, swing set, a full basketball court, a huge freeform saltwater pool with built-in bar stools and hot tub, and a ramada complete with BBQ, bar, seating, and a TV. Good thing the people are so nice, 'cause if they weren't we'd have to pretend we like them and use them for their backyard. There's a fairly large group of friends that gathers there every Thursday evening, and we've earned a standing invitation! I'm so glad, 'cause it was a BLAST. The kids played and swam, the dogs fetched and swam, and the parents drank beer and swam. We ordered pizza and stayed out entirely too late. We didn't get home until midnight. We can't wait until we live in their neighborhood. Our new friend said, "You guys can come back any time. You're terrible parents just like us, staying out past eleven with your kid." I took it as a compliment. They're GREAT parents. And the kid had the most fun of his life and couldn't stop smiling and laughing the whole entire time. On our way to school this morning he asked if we can go back tonight. I think he wants to live there. Who could blame him? The first words out of his mouth this morning when he woke up were "We partied too hard last night, but it was worth it." So, yeah, we kept our 3rd grader out until midnight on a school night. Hey...it's only the first week of school. They don't even have homework, yet. He'll be fine!

On a side note, the super-loud dishwasher in our apartment plays the background accompaniment to Queen's "We Will Rock You."

As part of my stepson's back-to-school gear, we purchased him his first stick of deodorant. Tom's of Maine Natural Unscented. The natural part so he doesn't get alzheimer's, and the unscented part so he doesn't get teased for smelling like a girl. I remember getting my first stick of deodorant, and it was not when I was eight years old. I think I was in Jr. High...sixth or seventh grade. I remember being a little embarrassed about it. I guess twelve-year-olds are embarrassed about a lot of stuff. My stepson isn't because he's not old enough to know to be embarrassed that he stinks. I guess that's one of the benefits of starting something early. When I put it on his pits for the first time the other day, he was cracking up because it tickled. Now he's doing it himself, and "it doesn't tickle at all anymore!" What a wonder! Yesterday when we picked him up from school, he had two things to report. Mr. Teacher had offered each of the kids in his class a guinea pig (he breeds them or something) as long as they brought a cage and a permission note from their parents, and "my friend wears deodorant, too!" When asked how he discovered that, he said that he just told his friend about his deodorant, but he "can't remember what my friend said about his deodorant." There were even a few kids in his second grade class who wore it. Age seven! You may think it's odd to be worried about that stuff when they're so young, but it's not for them, it's for you, the parent. I knew it was time toward the end of second grade when he hopped in my car after a long day of playing and I just about passed out. You can't drive a car safely that way. I had to open the widows. It wasn't that dirty, sweaty little boy smell. It was genuine man B.O. I even stuck my nose right in his pit when we got home, out of disbelief. He just laughed. I guess B.O. is right up there with farting nowadays.

So when did the deodorant age plummet down to seven? And how did this happen? Are we just more conscious of it, or is body chemistry changing that drastically due to the amount of preservatives that are in our food? Did our parents wait until age eighteen to start wearing it? Will our children's children be starting deodorant as a milestone in line with eating solid foods? Will Baby B.O. be an epidemic, leaving behind that sweet, sweet smell that has been known since the dawn of time? I wonder. In know one thing is true...Tom is a saint in our home.

It was a gorgeous sunny afternoon at a mild 100º, and then it just started to rain.

In this morning's Arizona Republic, the "Travel & Explore" section featured an article titled "LA's Nature Show" as a "regional getaway." Mr. Richard Nilsen's sub head was "Forget flowers--think tarpits, concrete rivers and oil rigs." It's really interesting to hear what a Zonie reporter thinks of my hometown. So here goes...

"When you think of Los Angeles, the word 'nature' comes to mind about as often as Genghis Khan and the word 'delicate.' LA is one of the world's great cities, and one of the most artificial. It is all pavement and minimal, parking garage and chain store. I will cede LA no quarter when it comes to magnificence, but when it comes to nature, you're barking up the wrong stop sign.

"Or are you?

"There is actually a lot of nature in LA, but like so much else in the sprawling, hazy, energetic city, it is sui generis--in a class of its own. And if you love LA and its artifice and unreality, then you may love its nature, too.

"That includes the La Brea Tar Pits, the stuffed animals at the Natural History Museum, the concrete-lined Los Angeles River.

"This isn't nature all cute and cuddly like the nature films show. It is nature covered with graffiti, smelly with escaping gas, and turned into a simulacrum of itself.

"But if you are in the right spirit, gravid with irony, there is a lot to love. Like the infamous LA River, a 50-mile-long concrete gutter paralleled by railroad yards, high-tension lines and freeways."

My first impression was that Mr. Nilsen was too critical. I realized I was being defensive. He mentions a lot of the reasons why I wanted to leave LA in the first place. Funny how I could be defensive about something I have often criticized myself. Granted, I'm no nature girl. He goes on in the article to describe the Tar Pits, which I often visited on school field trips. My favorite excerpt is "The pond at the entrance to the park, with its bronze elephants, is filled with water covered in a film of petroleum. In places a layer of tarry foam collects, and great bubbles of methane blub up like boiling oatmeal, filling the air with stink." Makes you want to visit, doesn't it?

He goes on to define the kinds of nature he is talking about...

"If you want cute furry animals and fields of wildflowers, you've come to the wrong place. Try Maine, at the opposite corner of the continent.

"But the Bambi vision is only one version of nature, and it is a conventional version, and LA is anything but conventional.

"We should think of nature as anything that reminds us we live on a planet. That includes geology, climate, hydrology. LA is a city inescapably bound up with the real effects of nature. LA is the city of earthquakes, mudslides, ozone and haze, the city of Santa Ana winds and wildfires, of mountain lions attacking joggers.

"Despite its reputation, LA is nature all the time."

Since I have lived in Los Angeles--my whole life, minus the last twelve days--I always heard that it was a place unlike any other. I always felt like every place else was unusual and it was LA that was the norm, which is a pretty egotistical place to be. I guess most people feel that way. Whatever you're used to is the norm. Not better, just expected. I'll always love Los Angeles, even though I'm happy with my decision to move away. Unusual is good. The unexpected is great. I love exploring a new city and meeting a new kind of person. It's been one of the most wonderful experiences of my life so far. I think a departure from "normal" Los Angeles is just what I needed.

We experienced our second monsoon yesterday evening around 6 PM. The Bs were playing in the pool, and I was napping on a chaise. I heard Big B go "Uh. Honey?" When I opened my eyes, I saw a huge wall of dust coming for us over the top of the building. Time to go! Right away the wind was fierce. The two other families at the pool were yelling and gathering their things as fast as they could. One poor little girl was really scared. She was running around crying. As the boys got out of the pool, I was scrambling to grab our towels and flip flops before they blew into the pool. The chaise started to move across the deck. It is incredible how things can go from completely still and calm to tornado-like in a matter of seconds. You may be thinking, "Dummies! Didn't they see that coming?" Well, I was napping, but I can vouch for the others that the answer is "NO." It really comes up THAT fast.

Once we got everything gathered, we walked as quickly as we could back to our apartment. I felt like Dorothy...you know the part where she's got her little basket and the tornado is whipping up her skirt and making it difficult for her to walk? At least she had her hair in braids, because mine was acting like a blindfold. Not knowing how bad the winds were going to get or how thick the dust would be, I was shaking a little. We got back into the apartment just in time to watch a lot of the patio furniture, which is heavy and made of metal, scrape across the deck and take a dive into the pool. I went out on the balcony to take some pictures, which I later found out was a mistake because my lungs were coated with dust.

Here's the dust cloud as it made it's way over our apartment building. Pretty ominous, huh? (You'll also notice the chair near the edge of the right side of the pool.)



After the dust cloud came the rain cloud. At first the rain was pretty light. Like a moderate So Cal winter rain.



The sky looked nuts!



Then came the rain...the real rain. It DUMPED! (Notice how some of the patio furniture is gone?)



I walked around the front of the building to check things out. The street was flowing like a river, and the poor trees were bent over so far they were nearly at a 90º angle! I also took video of this, which is much more spectacular.



Back inside, here's my stepson watching the show. He said "I think I see a fish moving." I guess he thought that the monsoon brought so much water that it must have brought fish to Lake Villa Pallavicini.



After all the rain came a spectacular lightening storm. The monsoon ended up being nothing more than an inconvenience, as we had planned to go out to dinner. The show was worth it, though! I'm not sure when we can expect to see our next monsoon, but the weather reports show storms for the next couple of days.

Just outside our apartment, there's a grassy basin perfect for letting the dog run around. There's almost always a dog out there sniffing, playing, or squatting. Now I don't know much, yet, about desert lawn maintenance, but the situation with the sprinklers here at Villa Pallivicini seems odd to me. The sprinklers will run for about twelve hours one day, then fifteen minutes another day, then 24 hours. Sometimes it's enough to make a lake. Take this afternoon, for example. I took this picture from our balcony.

If lawns need to be watered like this, how do people golf so much out here? In their swim suits? Is this a mistake the gardener is making, or is it necessary for one of the following reasons?
A) An attempt to combat overcrowding at the swimming pool.
B) This much water is needed to dilute the amount of dog urine in the basin.
C) They are trying to make a pretty lake with paddle boats and fishing, but it's so hot that the water is evaporating faster than they can fill it.

I was just browsing some of the other blogs whose bloggers live in Maricopa, and I discovered Jim, who is chronicling the building process of his home. So now I'm inspired to do the same thing with our home. The process is so exciting (the building, not the chronicling). Even though our home has been delayed several times and will probably be delayed even more, I'm still happy and optimistic...looking forward to the day we can move in!

Right now, we're living in an apartment in Chandler. It's working out great so far, but we're still anxious to get into our new place. It looks like it will be a while. Let me bring you up to date...

Here's our lot the day we picked it and put down our deposit in October 2004...



Here is a picture taken in April of 2005, just before pouring the foundation...



Here's our home framed with most of the windows in. It was so exciting to see it like this for the first time. This was taken in June.



This is a picture of the framing of our family room taken on the same day...



We took this picture of the back of our house last week. Disappointing because very little progress has been made in the last six weeks. We just have to be patient.



Even though it's hard to wait, we have to think how lucky we are to be building a new home and to be able to see it as it goes through the building process. Such an exciting time in our lives!

Lots to report from last night!

We went to my stepson's brand new school for "Meet the Teachers" night and a ribbon-cutting ceremony. The school is beautiful, and we were so excited to be part of this momentous occasion. It was a very small-town, warm, community, apple-pie type feeling, and we loved it. I felt like I was in an episode of Gilmore Girls (don't tell anyone I like that show). Afer the ceremony, we set off to find his teacher. We checked all the lists for 3rd grade classrooms, and he wasn't on any of them. Since it's a brand new school, I figured we could cut them some slack. After all, the building was still under construction just a couple of days ago. They probably just forgot to assign him a classroom...I was sure others would have the same problem.

We went over to the office and talked to the principal, who had personally confirmed his enrollment via email just a few weeks ago. I explained the situation, and we all looked on the district map to make sure our new house was within the school boundaries. Our street marks the division between one elementary school and the other, so it's a bit confusing. I was upset that we were referring to the district map since I had made such efforts to make sure we enrolled at the right school (knowing we were on the border), confirming with several different people on several different occasions. I explained to the principal that the house isn't quite ready, yet, and that we're temporarily living in Chandler. She asked me two questions that really ticked me off. 1) (with furrowed brow) "You mean you're going to drive him all the way out here every day?" 2) "Are you sure your house is on that street, because there's a lot of construction going on out here?" HA! Yeah, lady...I'm gonna drive my kid out here every day so that he doesn't have to transfer schools in the middle of the year. I know that sounds like a big ol' pain in the ass–and it is–but sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your kids. I thought you might understand that, being a principal and all. And, yes, I do know where my house is. Thank you for having so much confidence in my intelligence level. I certainly hope you have higher standards for the children you are educating. So she then tells me that she can't believe she would email me the incorrect information. Me neither. She then tells me that they have no record whatsoever of my stepson and that I should head over to the other elementary school to see if he's on a class list there. GREAT! THANKS! Now, I'm still going to give Mrs. Principal a chance. I'm not completely closed minded to the fact that she's probably a great person and all that. I know she's stressed. I can't even imagine the pressure on her right now. We'll see how things go in the future.

So we go over to the other school. Do you think he's on a list? Nope. Checked in the office. No record whatsoever. Asked if they have a master district list. Nope. K. The lady tells me to go back to the other school and ask the principal again. I then began educating my child on the finer words in the English language while simultaneously consoling him because he now feels like he doesn't belong anywhere.

I MARCH back into the first school office and tell Mrs. Principal that even though I mailed in all of my child's records, immunizations, and information to the school months ago, had his records sent officially from his previous school, spoke on the phone and via email with both herself and the principal at the other school to confirm the correct school and that my stepson was, indeed, enrolled, they have no record of him whatsoever in their system. Then I said "Since you confirmed that he is enrolled at this school, in writing, this is the school he is going to. Which class is he in?"

She said, "We'll put him in Mr. Teacher's class, room 11. Please stop by the office on Monday morning to make sure we have your son's information." THANK YOU!

So we go meet Mr. Teacher, and he seems nice. Has a lot of books in his classroom, which Little B immediately began reading. He told us his philosophies and about the grading system, and we were comforted. Our son has a place and is now looking forward to attending his first day of 3rd grade on Monday.

After that, we went to dinner at our first friends' (in AZ) house. I met Mrs. D online on a community Web site, and we've been emailing ever since. We both own our own pet sitting companies, and, technically, we're each other's competition, but we've chosen to take a more mature route and help each other out. We went to a professional pet sitters luncheon together the other day and found we had a lot in common. She was so nice to invite our family to her home for dinner. Boy, do we have a lot in common. She, Mr. D and Little D were great! Not to mention their three dogs and two cats. We clicked on just about every level, and Mr. D is a damn good cook. It's crazy, but Mrs. D and I are a lot alike, as are my husband and Mr. D. Our "married" interactions are also almost identical. It's just too good to be true. Friends! We made friends!

After dinner, the four of us are outside sharing a bottle of wine while the kids play inside. It's a hot (duh) evening, but then a slight breeze started blowing, which we all agreed was very refreshing. Then, suddenly–and I mean in about two seconds–our hair was blowing straight up in the air, whipping around, and the patio furniture was rattling. We look up, and there is a huge wall of dust. Let me tell you, it was an amazing site. "Here it is," Mr. D said, grabbing his wine. "Get inside. Shut the dog door," said Mrs. D, grabbing hers. We all ran inside. My husband and I looked out the window and called our son over to witness our first monsoon! I kept saying "Oh my god. Oh my god." What we saw was incredible. The only shame is that it was dark out and we couldn't totally see as well as we would have liked. The back wall of the D's backyard was about thirty feet from the sliding glass door we were peering through, and it was obscured from view by dust in seconds. Their whole backyard was filled with dust. Then the swing set was enveloped. That was only about ten feet away from us. It was nuts! Just thirty seconds ago we were relaxing on the patio. Then Mrs. D says to Mr. D, "Oh SHIT, honey. Our car windows are open." Uh-oh. They run outside. That gave me time to realize that my teeth were gritty, just like at the beach, and my wine had dust in it. The Ds come back a couple of minutes later completely drenched. So now it's pouring! We're all laughing, and they're telling us how they couldn't believe their first monsoon either. They only moved here last August, so they're new to all this, too. After about half an hour, everything had died down. We go back outside and everything looks normal, but with a layer of dust. Mr. D wiped down the patio furniture while Mrs. D changed the dogs' water bowl, which was now a big mud pie. Then we sat outside and finished our wine while watching an intense lightening storm.

Sorry...it all happened so fast I didn't have time to get pictures, plus it was dark and wouldn't have made good photos anyway. I'll try for next time. But what an experience! New great friends and our first monsoon! A night we will never forget...

Last night we went to the drive-in movies! My husband is the only one of us to have been to a drive-in before, and that was when he was a kid. It seems that drive-ins just don't exist much anymore, which is a shame because it was a great time and much less expensive than going to the movie theater. At the Scottsdale 6, we paid $11.00 total for my husband and I, and the kid and dog were free. And that's for a double feature! We didn't stay for the second flick 'cause it was past our bed times. We saw a movie I never thought I'd see, "Herbie: Fully Loaded." It was the only 8-year-old friendly film they were showing besides "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," which we saw last weekend. The movie was actually pretty good, but it could have been the novelty of the experience that caught me wearing rose-colored glasses. The snack vendors were complaining about how there were only twelve cars that came in the whole place last night–complaining in a nice way, like they were bummed. They seemed to really enjoy their jobs. I hope this drive-in doesn't shut down like all the rest, 'cause we'll definitely be back.

We'll probably wait to go back until the weather cools a bit. It must have been between 95º and 100º and since we were sitting in my Jeep without the engine running, it was pretty uncomfortable. We were pretty sweaty, plus I had a furry dog in my lap the whole time that added to the heat. About halfway through the movie, the wind really started to pick up. The still, dusty lot became a playground for canwrappersers, empty popcorn tubs, and dust devils. Then we saw lightening behind the screen in the distance. Wow! What a sight. The strikes became more and more frequent and looked closer and closer. The wind blew so hard that we had to zip up the windows to shield ourselves from the dust. We started to get a little nervous, wondering if the storm would move right on top of us. The Jeep was shaking, and the canvas top was vibrating. The lightening was no longer made up of individual strikes. It looked like the sky was full of electricity with no break. Some strikes were so high that they just made the clouds glow, while others seemed to strike the ground. A few raindrops fell. My husband was lucky enough to snap the picture seen here.



Though our first instinct was to flee, we decided to follow the judgmentent of the three other cars on our lot, assuming they were natives to the area. If they go, we'll go, we thought. The kids they had on the roof of their truck moved inside for cover, but they stayed put and watched the whole movie. Things calmed down just before the movie ended in time for us to have a safe, yet gusty, ride home.

This morning I set out to the Arizona MVD, or Motor Vehicle Division (of the Transportation Department). Like the DMV, but not. After doing research online and on the phone (just to be sure), I figured out everything I needed to get a new driver license, plate, and registration, so off I went.

My first step was to get a smog check. Since my car needed gas and I know where the nearest gas station is, I went there for a fill up and some information. While my car was drinking, I asked if the "Brake Stop" next door did smog checks. What I said, exactly, is "Do you do smog checks here?" The guy said "Except what?" Um. "Smog Checks?" I said. "Oh, um...no," he said. How helpful! Realizing that I was getting no where fast, I went inside the gas station. Surely they would know of a place. "Excuse me, please. Could you please tell me where the nearest place is to get a smog check?" The lady gave me a look as if I was speaking a foreign language, and she looked rather dim, in general. She asked, "A smog check? What's that?" You've got to be kidding me! Then it dawned on me...you're not in a foreign country, Kristen, but you might as well be..."You know, emissions?" I asked, with a smile. "Oh! You need an emissions test?" she inquired. "Yes," I declared with confidence. "Just go to the MVD on Beck," she instructed. Huh? I said (mostly because she looked dim) "They don't do emissions tests at the MVD." She gave me a really blank, absent-minded look. "Yes they do. Well, I mean, right next to it." I said, "Well, okay, thanks," and walked out.

"Hi honey," I called my husband. "These people, one, don't know what a smog check is, and two, are telling me to get an 'emissions test' at the MVD." "At the MVD?" he asked with a laugh. "Yup," I said, laughing back. I told him that my plan was to drive over there, check it out, and if there's no place to get an emissions test, I'll just ask at the MVD. "Good idea," he said "and keep your eyes peeled for places that do smog checks on your way."

I follow my Mapquest directions to the MVD, and lo and behold, I find a sign that says "Emissions Testing for MVD Here" with a big ol' arrow. So I follow. Once I pull up to the Jiffy-Lube type stall line, a giant dude comes up and tells me I have to go in the other entrance and get a ticket. K. So I go back where I came from and pull in front of this gate. The machine next to me says "Pull for ticket," so I do. But I have to yank so hard I think I sprained my arm. Then the gate magically opens and leads me right exactly to where I was before. Another sign says "Stay in your car. Leave engine running. Wait for further instructions." Aye-Aye. After a few minutes, I am waived forward, and I get to drive my own car right onto those spinning things they don't let you drive onto in CA. All this time I'm thinking...here I am...right next to the MVD...this surely is another one of those conspiracies against Californians...I'm gonna get ripped off and end up paying twice as much as I would if I had taken the time to find a real smog–er, emissions–place. Oh, well, at least it's conveniently located. So after I pull up, the guy tells me "You can either wait in the passenger's seat, or wait in that little booth," which is right next to the car. I opt for the booth. Once I'm in (for protection, I presume, even though it's like half a foot from my rear tire, and now we've involved glass), he says "It'll be $27.75 when we're through" and points to a sign that tells me they accept Arizona bank checks and cash. Good thing I have cash.

In the thirty seconds that passes while they're testing my Jeep, I started to feel like I was being sucked into some "Zonie process" that I knew nothing about. Just sort-of aimlessly drifting...thinking I'm doing the right thing...but fearful that I'm not. "DONE!" the dude says, and ushers me back into my car. "Pull up." I do. Another dude. "$27.75," he says. I give him thirty bucks, he gives me change and a piece of paper that says I passed, and points to the MVD. I ask, "Just out of curiosity, are all the emissions testing facilities next to and associatied with the MVDs?" "WHAT?" he screams and takes out his flourescent orange ear plug. Reluctantly, I repeat myself. "Yes," he says. No further explanation. And he gave me this weird look, too. I giggled and said "This is all new to me." He just walked away.

I go where he pointed and follow the MVD signs and arrows straight into a stall with a sign that says "All out-of-state vehicles must be inspected first." First? How do they already know what I'm here for? Those Zonies have got it goin' on! There's another stupid Californian in front of me, so the chick with the wet towel around her neck tells me to pull next to him and turn off my engine. So I do. Instantly, I'm baking. I unzip my window and wonder if this is part of the test. Like, you have to be able to sit in your car, motionless, without AC, for an undetermined amount of time, before they will give you an AZ license. Since my window is open and so is the other stupid Californian's, I hear her ask "Is your car tan or gray?" He says "I call it Champagne." Stupid Californian. He MUST be from L.A. I start to giggle. He must be more FOB than me, thinking they do "Champagne." "We only have tan and gray, so you're tan," she tells him. Ha ha. I'm not as stupid as you are...I'm singing in my head as sweat collects on my lower back and drips between my boobs.

He finally drives off, and I'm up. She takes enough notes about my license plate to write a dissertation while my pits are flowing like Niagra Falls. She asks me most of the same questions, but doesn't inquire about my vehicle color. She just writes down "gray." I would have preferred "silver," but I learned my lesson from those who went before me. I reckon they don't have fancy colors like silver. I sign. She hands me a paper, which I assume means I passed my vehicle inspection (but don't ask), and tells me to park and go inside. I do.

I get in this big long line even though I really want to turn around and go "home." But I'm determined. So I stay in the line, and it moves surprisingly fast. REALLY fast. Nice! This is nothing like the CA DMV! (As if I didn't know that already.) I get to the front and I tell the lady, "I'm from California." She asks, "Do you want an Arizona driver's license?" "Yes." I say. She asks if I have my CA driver's license and a second form of ID. "Yes," I say, and start to take everything out. "Oh, no...I don't need them...I just want to make sure you have them, " she says. K. "Yeah, I have them." I pretened to lie, for fun. What if I didn't have them? Heh heh. She has me look into some box. I say what I see. Some lights flash to check my perepherial vision, and she hands me a number. B091. I sit. I read. I look at all the sixteen-year-old "cool boys" studying with their mothers. Heh heh.

In a calm, computerized voice, "Now serving B091 at window 10." Right on! She speaks English, is pretty, and has on an Abercrombie t-shirt. In about four minutes she had signed me up for two years of registration (at a discount), my new DL, and my new "Pet Friendly/Spay & Neuter" license plate, which I knew I wanted before I came in, so there. $34 of the $50 two-year fee goes to spaying and neutering animals, plus instead of the mountan and cactus picture, I get to have a stylized dog and cat on my plate. Perfect! I'm soooooo excited about that! She gives me my receipt, clips my CA DL to my paperwork, and points me over to "the guy in the blue shirt who will take your picture."

I go over to him. He has me sign this little paper the size of a business card "on the line within the white box." Then he takes my picture. "Please wait for it to be printed." "For what to be printed?" I ask, "My actual driver license?" "Uh-huh." He says, and looks at me strangely. As if I'm a stupid Californian or something. He hands me my license. The actual thing. It expires in 2041. I don't need a new license until I'm 65. Unless, of course, I do something crazy like move out of state. There's a sixteen-year-old right next to me jumping up and down with his friends. I remember that feeling. Now, all I want to do is go home and have a beer.

I've been trying to absorb as much information about the weather here as I can because although it's sunny just like So Cal, it's much different. For one, I don't ever remember it being 115º in the Los Angeles area. So glad it's dry here, because humidity would be the death of me. When I was in New York in the summer time several years ago, I really thought I wasn't gonna make it. This is dry heat, which really does make a difference despite all of the clichés. So this morning I go out to take my dog for a walk at about 8 AM, and it feels pretty damn humid. I notice my neighbor's newspaper, so I check out the headline "Heat Toll Hits 8 as Monsoon Nears." So, yeah, 8 people have died in this "heat wave" we're having. Leave it to our family to not only move to one of the hottest places on the planet in the middle of summer, but to do so while that place is experiencing a heat wave. Since I'm above stealing my neighbor's newspaper, I go online to www.azcentral.com, which has a link to the daily printed paper. Sure enough, the evening news was right. A monsoon is on the way. I have been able to determine that the high heat levels (currently 8 days in a row over 110º...I guess that's a big deal) contribute to a raised "dew point." To my knowledge, Southern Californians aren't concerned with dew point, though I've been known to live under a rock at times, so I could be mistaken. So the dew point is pretty high right now. 55 yesterday. That really means nothing to me. They could tell me the dew point is 5 or 155. I just know it's pretty high, and they also reported that a dew point of 55 for three consecutive days along with temps over 110º means a monsoon. So that's the formula! I think.

I've been checking my weather widget like twenty times a day, and it keeps saying sunny, sunny, sunny infinity. When I went online today, the weather forecast says a chance of thunder storms every day this week. Hm. I guess surprises are nice. Only problem is, I'm not sure how concerned about this monsoon I should be. I guess like any unfamiliar natural occurrence that has the potential to cause damage, it puts a slight fear in this here newcomer. I never really thought much about earthquakes in CA, so why should I worry about monsoons? I've heard that they can be weekly occurrences during this time of year, so they can't be that bad, right?

A friend who used to live here described them as really cool. He said that the sky is super clear, then you see this huge wall of really dark dust approaching (um, sure that's cool). Then when it gets to you, it just dumps water like crazy and there's tons of lightning, and everything floods. The monsoon is in a really isolated area, so you could see one, but not be in one, I guess. But you still have to be really careful, especially in the wash areas, because a flood from a monsoon far away can come right through a wash near you. That's how kids get hurt...playing in the wash on a clear day...a big no-no.

The landscaping in Arizona is interesting because most of the dwellings are elevated. For example, just outside our apartment building is a path at ground level. Then there is this large grassy area that makes a sharp bank down into a basin. It's a great place to take the dog for a potty break, but I bet it's like a lake after a monsoon. We're having a new home built, and that house has a wash area right behind it. Of course, the site is elevated. It should be pretty neat to see water rush down the wash during monsoon season.

By the way...today marks our one week anniversary of being in Arizona! Does that make us Zonies, yet?

When I left my friends in California, all I was doing was crying. I woke up after my office going away party and couldn't open them at all. Well, we've been here now for five whole days, and I haven't cried one bit. My eyes (more specifically, my eyelids) are still giving me major problemas. What gives?

So they've been a little dry for the last few days. No biggie. My husband says he thinks they might be sunburned. Sounds logical to me. I mean, I've been lathering myself in sunscreen all over because it's been 115 degrees, but never once have I thought of putting that kind of protection on my eyelids. The sting seems more dangerous than the burn, ya know? Plus, I have my eyes open most of the time, so how could my eyelids be burned? Well, hubby says so, so it must be so. He's smarter than me about these types of things.

I wake up this morning and they are pretty swollen. Is this age catching up with me, and it just coincidentally coincides with my big move? Dry (scaly), puffy (wake up, girl), blistered (ewww, bumps), red (red) eyelids. Hm. Do I go to the doctor? What doctor? I have no knowledge of a doctor (don't worry, the hospital's right down the street in case of emergency). No, I go to Origins! Yes. They must have the answer...

My husband and stepson go with me, 'cause the air-conditioned mall sounds good. I walk in and see this girl. "Help me, please," I say. "Sure," she says. Her name is Care. That makes me feel good. She offers us breath mints. We take them. I say, "Look at my eyes." She does. I say, "I just moved here," which is pretty much my excuse for any mishap. "I think my lids might be sunburned."

"Where are you from?" she asks. "California," I admit. "What part?" she further inquires. Reluctantly, I tell her "the Los Angeles area." "No problem," she declares, knowingly, " this is really common." WHAT?! WAS SHE TELLING ME THAT THIS UNCOMFORTABLE EYE SITUATION IS REALLY COMMON IN PEOPLE FROM LOS ANGELES ONLY? Is there some weird Los Angeles-to-Phoenix eye epidemic? I didn't say that. "What do you mean?" I asked. She explained that my eyes are just adjusting to the change in climate, yadda, yadda. Duh. Does that also explain my diarrhea? I didn't ask that.

So she sold me sixty bucks worth of "Eye Doctor" day cream and "Night-A-Mins" night cream (am I seriously, seriously old enough for eye cream?) and threw in a sample of "No Puffery," which, she explained, "will do nothing for your eyes but make them feel better" as she applied it to my lids. Ahhhhhhh. This may be some take-down of Angelino women, I know. The whole "I'm-gonna-get-you-to-buy-eye-cream-until-you're-so-broke-you'll-have-to-move-back-to-California-with-your-in-laws thing." I asked her for a business card. This could be just the beginning of my troubles. Who needs a doctor? I'm all set. Care cares.