I left Mr. Greene. No reason. I was bored one day, went for a drive, and saw a house for rent. So I moved. At first, he thought I was just Spring Cleaning. I do this a few times a year. Every time there seems like a seasonal change, I start packing things up into boxes, washing down the house, dusting the window sills, and vacuuming the cat. With Arizona’s weather this happens about six times in the Winter/Spring months and four times during the Oh God, Please Help Us/End of Summer season.

I found the perfect little house. It’s in a nice neighborhood. We also get to stay in our community, so I won’t miss the latest gossip. We have a yard big enough for a real garden. (Yes, Ms. Black Thumb is feeling adventurous, again) and a swimming pool. I figure while I backwash the swimming pool, I can also water the garden. It’s everything I want in a house. Little woodland creatures even come to my door just to listen to me sing as I put out the laundry. Well, they are really more snakes and turkey vultures that I see and I think they’re actually running away. But, I do sing.

But, that sly one. Mr. Greene followed me. One day I was bringing in a load from the house. I thought he had gone to the golf course for his morning exercise, but I found him standing in my brand new kitchen cooking up breakfast. It was the first time in years he had made breakfast.

So, I took half and let him stay. I needed someone to help pay the rent, anyway.

Published in: on February 23, 2012 at 9:44 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Breaking News: Pinal County Sheriff is Outed

Guess what! If you haven’t already heard, Pinal County Sheriff, Paul Babeu, is gay! When I first heard about it, I thought, “Wonderful! We have something in common. So am I!” Oh! Not that kind of gay?

So, the man isn’t holding a press conference because someone called him out on being incredibly happy. Sheriff Babeu is a homosexual. Does that change what he has done with his career or who he is as a person? Did he awake the morning The New Times ran their story and decide he now needed to change his whole personality? I sure hope not. After all, who the hell cares?

Obviously, I care enough to write about it. But, that’s as far as it goes. Didn’t Lawrence v. Texas say it was perfectly legal to do whatever you want in your own bedroom? So, why is it such a big deal? Because the man is a Conservative? Is there a special templated checklist someone must check off in order to be Republican or Democrat? If so, I might have both parties screaming, “Old Adela belongs to you. No! She’s all yours! Can we just toss her over to the Libertarians? They’ll never notice. They’re probably too busy smoking, anyhow.” After all, if we want to put everyone into their own little political cubby of what they should be like….

If Sheriff Babeu had been a Democrat nothing would have been said. It would have been a shrug or, “So? I thought so all along?” But, because he doesn’t fit into that perfect little mold, it’s supposed to be shocking and controversial.

Which brings me to his personal life. We have gotten so much into this reality television and tabloid way of life that we need to know everything about someone’s personal life, just because we know their name. There was a time that personal meant personal. If someone was an actor or a politician, we focused on their performance or how they did their job. Not what goes on behind closed doors. After all, my co-workers didn’t know every detail of my life. Heck! I don’t even know every detail of my life.

So, that’s my rant for the day. I was going to catch you up with all the sordid details of my personal life, since October, but I saw this on the news and wanted to get my thoughts on this out of the way, first.

Be back Wednesday.

Published in: on February 20, 2012 at 9:12 pm  Comments (1)  
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Not for the Weak of Heart

It’s my favorite time of year. We just had a hail storm that decided to take a tour of the state. This means my air conditioning unit can take a nap and I might be able to start prepping my garden.

Yesterday the Arizona Cardinals had their first REAL game of the season. FOOTBALL! Yes, I do enjoy it. I’m not obsessed, yet it’s makes for fun family time. My second youngest son is a Cardinals fan, while the rest of the family have our hearts devoted to the Green Bay Packers. The most fun is when the two teams play against each other. It becomes a challenge between our son and Mr. Greene on who is going to win.

Football season has always been my favorite time of year. In high school the games and dances that followed created memories, both good and bad, to carry for a lifetime. I met one of my favorite girl friends while attending one of my first high school football games. Now that she lives in Wisconsin, she better be a devoted Packers, too.

The season changes. The air is crisp, while the scent from tailgate parties fills the air. Meanwhile, Mr. Greene gets an urge to throw on a helmet and pad his shoulders, so he can tackle somebody. He says he doesn’t understand,either. Especially since he hasn’t played football since he was 13. It isn’t as if he has an urge to wrestle every time he sees a wrestling match.

But, that’s the magic of football season.

But, if you’re a Cardinals fan, it’s best to have your blood pressure checked. It’s also a good idea to make sure that you are actually breathing every chance you get. If the Cardinals are good at one thing, it’s generally how to turn a winning game into a losing one at the very last minute. I know they did win yesterday. I was keeping track and could feel my blood pressure going up, down, up, down, and was that sideways?

Which is why I say, football is not for the weak of heart. It’s a sport where manly men get to romp around in the mud, chasing an oblong ball, trash talking and dogpiling on each other, and no one thinks twice about being smacked on the back end.

The season is here and it looks like it’s going to be amazing. So, let’s pull out the grill, get our cheesehead hats, and watch us some football.

Published in: on September 12, 2011 at 4:00 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Seven Ways to Waste Your Friday Afternoon

Do you work at a mind numbing office job? Did the excitement of last weekend’s three days off make the four day work week drag on longer than overtime in Hell?

Good news! There is hope on the horizon. No. You are not going to start working from home and setting your own crazy schedule. Then, you’d be me and have no reason to read this.

One of the most entertaining things about beating the Friday “I wanna leave” blues is to entertain yourself with a little creativity. Of course, too much creativity could give you a permanent vacation.

(1) Organize Your Life Your desk. Your computer files. Read through each email you have saved since 2006.

(2) Talk to a co-worker. Make sure you approach the situation with an, “I need your help on this project” kind of attitude. After your initial questioning is done, linger a few minutes –or an hour — longer. If a supervisor comes by, revert back to your original question.

(3) Linger around the break room. You aren’t lingering. You’re cleaning up. Why aren’t you working? Someone had to get rid of the science projects in the fridge.

(4) Write random email to your co-workers. Make the subject lines are work related, but the content might look more like a random collection of puzzles and bad jokes.

(5) Call for an impromptu meeting If you are in a management position, instead of a cog, this works better. Call for a meeting that really has no point. You know everyone else is likely to be planning their weekend already, so it really doesn’t matter what you say. Just so long as it’s in an authoritative, monotone voice. Channel Ben Stein and you’re set.

(6) Schedule a business lunch Not only do you get out of the office and get to eat, the company is picking up the tab. You also look like you’re doing something important.

(7)Facebook or blog Unless it’s blocked, we all know you’re Facebooking during business hours anyhow. Your boss is probably Facebooking more than you are. That’s why he’s passed his workload onto you, after all.
The problem will be convincing the powers-that-be that you are actually conducting research, in order to tweak the marketing strategy of your company. Especially challenging if marketing is not your department and you know someone will expect to see the finished product.

Or, maybe you plan on actually working. An odd concept, but doable. Just smile and think that you get to sleep in tomorrow. Unless, you have that dreaded overtime. Then, we’ll talk later.

Published in: on September 9, 2011 at 5:24 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Happy Labor Day!

Hope all you hard working folks out there are getting some much needed rest today. For any mothers giving birth today, enjoy the day. The reward is worth it.

Published in: on September 5, 2011 at 4:52 pm  Leave a Comment  

Five Things Not to Do With Your Three Day Weekend

Happy Labor Day weekend!

It’s Friday afternoon and a fabulous three day weekend lies ahead. This includes a weekend of fun in the sun, barbecuing, and hanging out with friends.
I hope you will all have fun, too, but avoid making the following stupid mistakes that can muck up your weekend plans.

(1) Do not start a forest fire. According to this press release for last Spring’s Arizona Wildfire Awareness Week, over half of the wildfires in Arizona are caused by people.
This means the other half are caused by lightning and squirrels not putting their cigarettes out before going to bed.
As much as we enjoyed the wet weather last winter, the sun makes all that lush greenery into tinderbox fodder come summer.
I for one, hate changing plans because a forest is closed or a friend’s house is in danger of being burned down. Especially, when it can all be avoided by taking an extra five minutes to make sure fires are put out. If you aren’t sure, put your hand into the coals. If you burn yourself, you can be thankful that it was just your hand and not the whole forest.

(2) Do not start a brawl over a football game. Whether your Mercedes Benz was dinged by a football before the Rose Bowl or you just didn’t like someone else’s football team, it can hardly be worth the hassle of going to jail and not being able to see anymore football games, in person, for a long time.
Just remember, even if the other guy is a complete idiot, you can wake up the next morning knowing you’ll have a good day — outside of prison — and the other guy is still an idiot.

(3) Stay away from all social media, while drinking. As a friend of mine says, “If I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen.” The statement works best if you also leave no evidence. If you must drink so much that you aren’t going to remember anything about your fabulous night out, at least make sure there is also no physical evidence left behind.
It’s easier to convince everyone in the bar that they must have been more drunk than you, when they thought they saw you doing a strip tease on the bar, than it would be if someone uploads video to Facebook or you tweet: Am I drunk. Going to dance for the cute bartender now.
It’s funny for the rest of us, but you might be hearing about it for a much a longer time.
On second thought, just avoid getting drunk. The story will continue to follow you, anyway.

(4) Do not call the police if you feel you were ripped off during an illegal transaction. We’ve all heard about the news articles about the scholars who decide to call the police when they find out the drugs they bought aren’t worth what they paid for. Or, this 26 year old Einstein, who was not satisfied that the escort he called for did not look like the picture in her advertisement. If you already paid for it, it’s over. Meanwhile, the police, the reporter, and anyone who reads that article is now laughing at you.

(5) Do not become a candidate for the Darwin Award This one should go without saying. If something seems like a fun idea, but, “If this doesn’t work out, I might….” Stop! Walk away! Go back to sleep. You don’t want to be that lamebrain who got his fifteen minutes of fame by dying in such a ludicrous way that his friends won’t admit to knowing him.
Your last words should not be, “I just wanna pet the tiger.”

Have a great weekend! See you Monday. Hopefully!

Published in: on September 2, 2011 at 8:32 pm  Leave a Comment  
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My Arizona Rant

Guess what, folks! I’m famous! I was mentioned in an article written by gawker.com. Sure, I wasn’t mentioned by name, but the thought was there. I am one of those old, angry white people who caused Arizona’s “Worst state” listing. What’s gawker.com? Don’t worry. I don’t know who they are, either, and won’t remember them much past the time it takes to write this blog. But, that’s because the heat is obviously cooking my brain, as we speak. This is why I am so angry, after all. It has nothing to do with the stupidity of people who have nothing better to write about. At least I have an excuse.

The other given reasons are SB1070, Jan Brewer, and Joe Arpaio. I am now going to write an article about why the U.S. must be the worst country. After all, our economy is in the tank and our government leaders are more interested in playing games and one-upping each other, than showing any leadership quality. Thank God, the endearing qualities of a country or a state aren’t solely based on the ridiculous antics of its government. Otherwise, much of Europe would be screwed.

I am an Arizona native. Except for the heat of the centralized “Easy Bake Oven” I cannot imagine living anywhere else. While I have known people who have gone, many come back saying they just couldn’t stay away. As a nature lover, this is the place I want to be able to spend my days. Even the article gave Arizona credit for that.

But, what is the problem with Arizona? That’s easy. Out-of-staters. I’m not necessarily speaking of snowflakes…er…birds….either. Granted they don’t know how to keep up with traffic (although, you would think after a few years of snowbirding that would be figured out), they congest our golf courses, public events, and make our summer discounts go away. In reality, I have met a number of wonderful snowbirds. Some I even miss during the summer time.

The ones I am speaking of are those who escape from another state, then spend their time complaining about what’s wrong with mine. Just like any family member, I can pick on it, but if you do, you’re dealing with me. It never makes sense. Why be here if you hate it so much? You’re just taking up my golf course space and taking my summer discount rates, without appreciation.

As for this amazing team of wanna-be investigative reporters, the least worst state? Of course, the state they are located in – New York. Why? Because, they embrace gay rights. That’s what I would base my whole criteria on. Never mind New York City’s bad traffic, bad attitude, high crime rate, being the headquarters for the United Nations and that it smells funny. After all, if people are going to have such a limited view of what Arizona is, I can easily return the favor.

This angry, old white person is now signing out to fry an egg on my driveway or start soup in my pool for tonight’s dinner. Keep cool. Summer can’t last forever.

Published in: on August 31, 2011 at 3:31 pm  Comments (3)  
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Smoking Hot Dogs!

Hot dogs can kill you! That was the finding of a report released a couple of weeks ago by a group of “let’s promote the vegan life-style” doctors. No agenda there. I am sure they just have our best interests at heart and are really worried that some of us might be smoking a few packs of hot dogs a day. Why else would they claim hot dogs are as deadly as smoking cigarettes?

If you are vegetarian, vegan, or have a diet that says you are only allowed to eat dirt during certain cycles of the moon, bon apetit. Just don’t tell me what I am allowed to eat or try to make me feel guilty, because a cute animal ended up on my plate.

Did you ever once ask anyone what they thought of those cute teeny baby vegetables? The tiny ears of corn, baby carrots, etc.? Those are also living creatures. Plants have feelings, too!!

That’s what I want to see. Instead of ad campaigns telling people why they should feel guilty for eating meat, I want to see one against the cruel practice of eating vegetables. Have you ever heard the screams of a potato when it’s in the microwave? That is not a happy whistle. It’s the same sound a bunny makes when it’s scared for its life. Only the sound is coming from a potato.

If we are only supposed to be worried about cute and cuddly animals and don’t really care about the feelings of the plants, then what are you doing taking food out of these innocent animals’ mouths? They can’t just walk their tails down to the corner grocery store and pick up their own produce. Because of health code violations, many of them are not employable, so have no money to join produce co-ops. They have to go by their wits and what they can find. Even if you have a garden of your own, if you don’t invite them to partake in the fruits of your labor, you’re just part of the problem.

Offended yet? A bit too silly and extreme? That’s how I see “Meat is cruel” ads and studies, like the above. Seriously, who really eats a hot dog a day? It’s summer. I believe I ate a hot dog last week. One, out of the whole summer. Maybe it will increase my chances of cancer. Maybe waking up in the morning and breathing too deeply will also increase the chances of cancer.

I had a lovely aunt who died a couple of years ago, at the age of 96, from bladder cancer. Did she sit down and make a laundry list of what may have caused it? No. If she had not died because of that, she would have eventually died of something else down the road. She was 96 years old, after all. The fact is, we are all eventually going to die from something.

We can moan, complain, feel guilty and worry ourselves sick about every little morsel or we can enjoy our food and being alive today. If you enjoy eating only vegetables or dirt, do so. If you’re a scientist, who has something worthy to share, I would like to hear it. Just don’t expect my world to stop because of what your studies found. Within a year, you’ll be telling me to light those smokies up, because they are better than dark chocolate.

Meanwhile, I know me and I know my body. Which means, I could really go for a steak about now. But, maybe I’ll just settle for a hot dog, instead.

Published in: on August 3, 2011 at 6:43 pm  Comments (1)  
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The Meeting of the FOFU

A mutiny has begun in our community. Don’t worry. I don’t live in Quartzsite. It’s not at that level. Recently a secret group called FOFU (Flying Old Farts United) started meeting to air their grievances about Community leaders, past, present, and future. This spilled over to anyone who had ever been within eyesight of one of the Country Clubbers and may have accidentally smiled in their direction. They even yelled at one of their own for things he might do in the future if he ever became one of Them.

Their first meeting took place in the middle of a busy intersection. After causing a traffic jam, two fender benders, and police intervention, they decided they would move their secret group to the corner bar. Signs were posted up everywhere. We even got little reminder notices on our front doors.

For some reason, they were still surprised when half the community showed up. The other half complained about 8 pm being too late to go out and asked for updates on how the meeting went.

It didn’t go as expected.. Barney, who missed his calling as a bard in a former life, pulled out his book of sonnets and would read them dramatically, according to the theme of the discussion. My brother, Jack, became irate anytime someone bellowed into his ear, “Help us, Jack! You’re our only hope.” Chuck, the bouncer, gave a moving speech about how inspired he was that hippies had enough brain cells to remember what they were protesting, since the rest of us still can’t figure it out.

By midnight, most of the Old Farts were passed out and the meeting wasn’t nearly as much fun as we thought it would be. We decided to take the rest of the party– I mean meeting – to Jack’s house. He even promised not to kick me out, if I would stop stealing danishes from his cupboard and strapping them to my head.

I don’t think I’ll be going to the next meeting. I waited all night and not one of those Old Farts has ever flown. Although, one did make good distance when Chuck kicked him out of the bar.

Tomorrow, we’ll talking about the hazards of smoking hot dogs.

Published in: on August 2, 2011 at 7:15 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Adela’s Favorite Restaurants

This morning, I awoke hungry. But, I am often hungry, so this is nothing new. The best way to get me to go some place is to offer me a meal. Why else do you think so many churches offer coffee and donuts after their services?

Long, long ago I was born. Yes, there were cars. No. They did not need to be cranked up to start. The hospital I was born in was Phoenix General Hospital, located at 19 Ave. and Indian School Rd, in Phoenix, Arizona. Late in the last century, it was torn down and replaced by a strip mall.

By sheer irony, the place I have found the best prime rib is not at a Vegas buffet, but at this location. The restaurant: My Mother’s. Not, MY mother. Most likely someone’s mother. But, I have no relation to the restaurant, whatsoever. Except as someone who enjoys good food.

It’s has an old fashioned ambiance, plays crooner music, and everything on the menu is absolutely delicious. Mr. Greene always insists on the especially large Grandfather’s cut of prime rib — grilled. He thinks it’s nearly as good as the prime rib I make, and I don’t have to heat up the house to make it in the summer. Lasagna, pot roast, open faced turkey sandwiches, pizza, huge loaves of my favorite bread they won’t give me the recipe for, and exquisite cream pies.

My Mother's Restaurant http://www.mymothersrestaurant.com

When we lived within the restaurant’s delivery boundaries, we never had to leave the house to go out for a special meal. They even managed to deliver that prime rib.

Now, as I go onto my second favorite restaurant, I will tell you a short story.

Don Jose's 36th Street and Thomas Rd.

A few years ago, I got into a fight with a good friend. To console myself, my plan was to grab some chips and hot sauce from Don Jose’s Mexican Restaurant (located about 36 street and Indian School Rd.). When I saw the fence around it and the For Lease sign, I promptly burst into tears. Then, had to pull to the side of the road to keep from crashing into oncoming traffic, who wouldn’t have been as understanding.

Here it is, three years later, and the restaurant is re-opened. The food tastes the same. The prices are no different. They still play K0Y radio. Even the booth are still slightly awkward to sit in. But, it’s worth it to have enchiladas, chimichangas, huevos rancheros, or much of the usual Tex-Mex flavor that isn’t fancy, experimental, or costs more than prime rib.

It was one of my daddy’s favorite restaurants when he lived in the neighborhood, in 1967, and has become a place my children enjoy, as well. Although, for the life of me, I cannot understand why my daughter still insists on ordering a hamburger and fries in a Mexican restaurant.

While I drool over the thought, I will now just deal with trying to make some caramel coffee. It’s not as good as a chimi or a steak, but maybe if I close my eyes, I can pretend it’s a pie from My Mother’s Restaurant.

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