Apparently, pranksters released two live diamondback rattle snakes during a screening of Snakes on a Plane at a Phoenix theatre. Nobody was hurt. Full story on Yahoo!.

Just gotta talk about windows and my eternal battle with Arizona’s heat. I have a small patio home, circa 1984. I secured a home equity loan with the idea of making improvements to my house. I can be a real form-over-substance girl when it comes to aesthetics and a mad desire for new flooring conflicted with more practical replacement windows. The house has cheezy, single pane windows which provide absolutely no insulation. Even in shade, the glass feels hot from the inside. After agonizing and hand-wringing, the pocketbook won out and I contracted for aluminum, double pane, low-E windows.

Well . . . yesterday, the first of the new windows were installed and oh what a wonderful improvement already. With the strong mid-morning sun streaming in, there was no heat coming through the glass. The low E was doing its job, reflecting and rejecting. The biggest surprise was the appearance from the outside. Being clean, surely helps, but there’s a very subtle effect created by the low E glass. It’s not tinted and yet it might be. I figured they would look better, but didn’t realize how much they upgrade the appearance of the house. If you’re wondering what you can do to lighten your utility load and add a bit of bling to your house, think replacement windows.

I cannot bring myself to use contractions, leet speak, or texting shorthand. I own an OED and spend hours reading it. Pedantic Presh thinks I am a language snob because I do not practice the local patois. I accept these criticisms and accept that I am not the target audience for this chain of early learning centers that uses a misspelling of the word school as their business name. Is it just me or do you want a place of learning to, at the minimum, teach proper spelling?

“Cat” not “Kat”
“You are” or if you must “You’re” not “Your” and certainly not “Ur”
“School” not “Skool”

How fun was that storm today?!? I just sat in my apartment thankful that I’d made it home from the first day of classes at ASU before it started. I turned off the TV, the lights and the stereo and just listened to the wind and rain as it beat against the windows and roof of my apartment. Thunderstorms like the one today are a summer-time routine in the midwest but out here in Phoenix they come so infrequently that I take the time to enjoy them.

Good times.

I woke up lazy Saturday, my potential trip to Payson slashed by budget cuts at my fiscal year close, and I spent the 6am hour outside and inside, briefly, at the kitchen sink, cleaning out my hookah from Jerusalem. I decided to be healthy and skip breakfast, instead opting for sweet mocha-flavored Arab tabacco and herbal essence siphoned through a glass vase of ice water and a long hose up into my lungs — and held tight — exhaled into the cool valley air overlooking a perfect Mesa morning.

My hatefullness of the heat has gently decomposed into an apathy and I no longer dislike Arizona but instead find myself quite happy, even though in the back of my mind I briefly take trips to the east coast, and decide that I’ll explore there next as the west coast has grown old to me, for now. I put The Wallflowers on the outdoor speakers, and watch the sun finish its rise above the Superstitions, and the haze comes through the pathwork clouds gently, although it is only a few steps away from the gray glare that might require sunglasses.

An hour later I am speeding down the US 60, on my way to south central Phoenix for four or five hours of overtime to make the money that is needed to buy bread and eggs, but with a short stop planned at my lover’s place of employment to say hello and add iced coffee to my veins. A mile before my exit, a piece of silver — something — is kicked out from the car in front of me and I cannot avoid, lest making friends with a concrete wall or an eighteen-wheeler. A split second later my car jerks to one side and my already broken mirror scrapes the beige wall of the freeway, and I almost overcorrect with a sharp jerk to the left as my fender briefly comes under the cargo to my side, before a happy medium is found. Pieces of my tire rattle then shoot out from underneath my car and I see them in the rearview.

My spare is flat and the tow truck on the way, and I call my friend in Los Angeles to kill time, and he is quiet. He tells me that the night before last, his friend, Dave, fought to make his torso free from the burden of life by laying his head on the railroad tracks heading out from the ship docks in Long Beach. My friend went to drive to the spot but only got as far as the bridge of the 710 going over the channel, and I tell him I know the place. The bridge I am now standing under at Gilbert Road doesn’t seem as threatening anymore, and my problems not as bad, but that is the typical response.

I don’t want to understand his pain in the City, but I don’t tell him that five years past now I still can’t stop and walk past the apartment complex at Gilbert & Brown and not think about those who didn’t have the choice to live, who had to die by another’s hands because it was dictated. You killed once but robbed more and they eventually caught you in Los Angeles, at the same crackhouse hotel where I had a knife held to my own throat once, pressed against a wall, but you befriended here in Mesa and took from others what you could not earn for yourself, and stabbed and bled the one whom you took it from. And it seems to be a yearly tradition, again, five years now, that every autumn or winter I run into your dad at Wal-Mart and he pretends it’s all okay. Todd, I can’t bring myself to tell him that it’s all okay, because you and I both know it never was.

Last weekend I had an occasion to visit Arcosanti for a new music concert by the California E.A.R. Unit. Arcosanti is an arcology (architecture + ecology) concept/project by renowned architect (and Scottsdale resident) Paolo Soleri located in the high Arizona desert just off of the Cordes Junction exit on I-17.

The complex itself, situated on the edge of a canyon created by the Agua Fria river, is beautifully built and blends in with the surrounding desert landscape. We drove up to Arcosanti through a thunderstorm and by the time we arrived there was a beautiful rainbow over the canyon which was followed with a stunning sunset. I got some great shots of the landscape at Arcosanti which I’ve uploaded to an Arcosanti Flickr set (or see all Arcosanti tagged pics on Flickr).

Before we moved here and bought our house, I had no idea why new home communities had to have HOA dues.
We lived in a 50 year old home back in California and didn’t have to pay for HOA. We couldn’t comprehend why new homes would make their residents pay to live in their community unless it was to keep their area safe.
I knew about the major reasons - taking care of the landscaping, irrigation systems, the waterscapes and so on and so forth. But why so much money? With new homes developing, I would have thought this would help keep the dues at a stable level. Yet I got a letter in the mail earlier this year telling me they are increasing our dues and attached a cryptic expense sheet justifying this increase. While we have this increase, I see strange cars parked out on the street, graffitti on some walls, and vandalism. With this much money you would think they’d also have someone taking care of this. But no. Actually the company is based in Scottsdale and they only have one representative in the model center. If we saw a car parked out for more than 3 days, we had to file a complaint form and submit it to the Scottsdale office. Why do we need to do this? When graffiti or vandalism happens in our community a long period of time elapses before anything happens. There should be some patrol to protect our community from this. If I am going to pay so much money in dues, I’d rather see the money going to something that actually makes a difference to keep our community safe. Grrr.

Am I way behind on this on this place? After a show Sunday night at Modified downtown, we had the absurdly difficult task of finding a place that a) served food and b) served alcohol. It was after 11 p.m., no less. Did I mention it was a SUNDAY? That’s no easy chore in Phoenix.

A friend mentioned Delux, which had been recommended to us before, but I had no clue it stays open and serves food and alcohol until 2 a.m. - every day. Eureka!

There are at least 40 beers on tap, and we’re talking quality imported brew. The burgers are tasty, if not a little expensive: $9. That’s a little steep when you have to order fries separately ($5 for a basket that’s good for sharing). Pints range from $4.50 to $7. Pricey perhaps, but when it’s midnight, you’re starving and few options exist, you pay the man his $9 and go home happy.

The missing photographer wasn’t missing afterall. Found it in today’s article from azcentral.com.

It’s move-in day at ASU - classes start next week so they like to get the little devils onto campus early for orientation. The pictures above are of Forest Mall which is an allegedly pedestrian area (although between the service vehicles and crazy cartists . . .). What you see are mommy and daddy doing the dropoff deed. I love the line-up of minivans and SUVs - come moveout time, these same vehicles aren’t anywhere near large enough to haul away the quantities of stuff. Does it grow? Have sex and multiply? Where does it all come from? Anyway, move in day means chaos is just around the corner. The peace and calm of campus is about to be replaced with 61,000 pushing, shoving, walking, biking, skateboarding, gaping lost individuals. It’s a wave that begins with today’s trickle and ends like an epic tsunami. Academic year 2006-2007, here we come.