Notes from the Grand Canyon State

As it often happens, I have returned home from another blissful trip to visit three of my five best friends, who have grouped themselves conveniently in one city, without a photo to show for it.

It has occurred to me that when surrounded by people who I love, and more importantly, who don't annoy me, I relax into heap of contented euphoria from which I am only capable of participating in a few limited activities-like balancing a cocktail on my lips and laughing hysterically. The notion of taking pictures, even of my perfect goddaughter, is the farthest thing from my mind. Especially when I can hold said goddaughter in my lap and stare into her pretty eyes instead (without a drink in my other hand, as I was instructed by her mommy).

So, here I am, back at the homestead, trying desperately to pull my plants back from a weekends devastation caused by a surprise heat, somewhat kicking myself for not having photographed the loveliness that is Arizona this time of year.

I mean, yes, it was hot, let's not lose all sense of reality, but when it cooled off and we were lounging on the patio staring at the desert sky and over the rough and tumble landscape, I had my I'm-visiting-Arizona-and-being-beguiled-by-its-sandy-charm moment that I always have while I'm there where I think, "Hey, I could get used to this!"

Then I remember my short period of Arizona residence with a shudder and choose instead to ogle the javalina making their stinky way up the driveway and peer through my cameras zoom lens at the tarantula picking it's way across the street below. I also ritualistically indulge in gaping at the desert night sky (decidedly different and more spectacular than skies viewed in other locales) while continuing to fill my glass and listen to my friend's kids talk tirelessly of their beanie baby's dating preferences. It may sound surprising, but this makes me very happy.

It also makes me happy to know that my best friend's kids are growing up with a keen acceptance for gay marriage and that they incorporate that into their stuffed animal dating scenarios. For those taking note, "Fuzz" (a brownish type Beanie bear) can only go to the ball with other boy bears. Such wisdom in such tiny people.

And so, here I am, back in the Golden State, happy to be home, but also a bit melancholy since I won't see these hilarious, non-annoying, perfectly-crafted-just-for-me friends all in one sitting for a while. Plus, sobriety has kicked in and I realize I have a lot of laundry and unpacking to do. Gah!

Good thing I'm off for Rome soon to see another one of my five perfect fit friends. Let us begin the countdown...16,