Scottsdale, Arizona

Hello Everyone! I want to thank everyone for being so patient while I work up the energy to write this entry out. As I said to Beth earlier this week, after our vacation, it took all my strength just to drag myself back to work much less compose an entry and do other important things…like laundry. I think part of my delay was trying to figure out how to describe last weekend; or more importantly, how to make complete and utter relaxation sound exciting. I guess the best I can hope for is if you don’t find this entry amusing that you at least come away with the sense of wanting to go to Scottsdale yourself. Just so you know, the washing machine is pleasantly churning away right now, and here I am again, writing to you.

Most of you already know how Kevin and I ended up in Scottsdale, but for those who don’t, let me explain. I entered a contest on the greater Phoenix tourist board’s website sometime last spring. They had four prizes, all of which were two night stays at some fancy resort in the Phoenix\Scottsdale area. In July I was notified via mail that I had won one of the prizes:

• Hyatt Regency Scottsdale Resort and Spa at Gainey Ranch package: two-bedroom casita accommodations for a two-night stay for four; Camp Hyatt for two children for one day; 60-minute Avania massage or facial for two; dinner for four; and a round of golf for two.

Not bad for a piece of mail I almost threw away, huh?

I made the reservations right away for March 2007. Kevin and I were celebrating our 5-year anniversary (of dating) and figured what better way to do so then at a 5-star resort. Unfortunately we couldn’t book the room for Saturday\Sunday so we ended up getting a cheap hotel in Phoenix on Saturday and went to the resort on Sunday\Monday.

We got into Phoenix at 6 PM St. Patrick’s Day. We soon realized that the cheap hotel I had booked was an understatement in ‘cheap’. We were quite literally in the bad part of town, complete with two hookers hanging outside the hotel. I can’t verify for sure whether or not they were hookers as I didn’t ask them or anything, I just assumed that when a 300 lb woman is wearing a lacra dress so tight her cottage cheese butt is completely exposed revealing a g-string she’s barely wearing, she might be a hooker. The hotel itself was…well, cheap. The bed was a board with two pieces of tissues for a pillow. I was a bit shocked not to see cockroaches. We quickly changed into some fresh clothes and grabbed a cab downtown.

I had found an Irish bar to go to online before we left but when we got there I realized how stupid that choice was as well. The place was packed and had a $10 cover charge. After the disappointment in the hotel, I didn’t want to deal with it. Thankfully there was this great little basement bar, Monroe’s, directly across the street that not only wasn’t crowded, but it had cheap drinks and terrific food. I want to take time right now to personally thank Monroe’s on 3 W. Monroe St. for turning our St. Patrick’s Day around. You guys are awesome.

On the cab ride back to the hotel, our cab driver looked at us cockeyed when we gave the address. “Oh man, that’s the ghetto!” Yes sir, I think we already gathered that. After a bad nights sleep on an awful bed, we left first thing in the morning. It might be the only time Kevin and I have left a hotel room before checkout time EVER.

We headed straight to Scottsdale, which is about 20 minutes northeast of Phoenix. We had a while before we could check into the resort so we bummed around the entertainment district and got some food. Unfortunately we had already ate breakfast when we stumbled upon Giligan’s (4251 North Winfield Scott Plaza) where we learned they had amazing cheap Sunday breakfast. They also apparently have Goldfish Races but we missed that too. I did, however, spin the big wheel of drinks for $2.00 (I’ve watched too much Price is Right not to!) and had to do a shot of Peach Pucker. Ew.

We finally checked into the resort at 2 PM. I was a bit worried at first that they would look at my gift certificate and say “Yeah, right”, but they just smiled and handed me the keys to the room; or, as it turns out, the little house.

Walking through the resort to the casita was breath taking enough. First thing you see is the cacti and waterfalls lining the pathway to the swimming pool(s) and golf course. The air smells sweet from the flowers, the birds are chirping, and you hear laughter from the kids careening down the water slide. They could have told me I was sleeping on the benches in the veranda and I’d be happy. But no, our key opened the door to a little cottage that is literally as big as our apartment.

Veranda

Kevin and I looked inside, looked at each other, looked inside and began bouncing and cheering. Then we started running from room to room shouting, “KEVIN! Lookatthis!! Lookatthis!!” “MOE! C’mereandseethis!!!!” Think two 8-year olds let loose in Toys R Us with a fistful of money and no parents. Everything we came across (three TVs!) we began giggling (a stocked FREE refrigerator!) like we had just committed a crime (two rooftop patios!) and had gotten away with it (THREE bathrooms!). We quickly unpacked and went to the adult pool (adult pool! No screaming splashing kids allowed! I’m in heaven!) for a swim and a cocktail.

Let the relaxing ensue.

Living room in the casita

Later on, we had the Hyatt driver (leather seat Lincoln!) take us back to the entertainment district. We had seen an ad for a tiki bar\restaurant called Drift (4341 N 75th St) in the local newspaper and decided to check it out. While it was a bit more upscale than I had hoped for (I’m still going to marry Tiki Ti in Hollywood), the food was fantastic and the drinks were really cool. I had the Spicy Peanut Chicken bowl and the Lava Flow. The bowl was indeed spicy (I went through 3 glasses of water and pulled an American Dave when I ate it) but damn was it good. I wasn’t feeling too great after dinner, most likely due to the heat of Scottsdale and the heat of the food, so we just went back to the resort. Not that going back to the resort was hard to do.

Drift and the Lave Flow

The next day was more relaxing at the pool, late lunch, a massage at the spa, more relaxing at the pool, hot tub, lounging on the rooftop deck, etc. etc. ahhhhhhh. We met up with Kevin’s friend, Kim, for dinner that night and tried as desperately as we could to use all $200 of the gift certificate we had. After three appetizers, two filet migons, one fish special of the day, salads, and a tiramisu dessert, we only managed to spend $137. Booze was not included or else we might have been able to pull it off. The food was delicious but I was so full by the time the steak got there that I only had three bites and ended up taking the rest back for breakfast the next day. After Kim left, we went on our free gondola ride and hung out by the fire pit on the veranda.

Toes at the Adult Swimming Pool

I was already starting to get depressed that we had to leave the next day.

No baby ducks were harmed in my leaving the resort depression.

I woke up early on Tuesday morning and spent an hour sitting on the patio drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and watching the bunnies bounce around. I was truly sad to have to go and tried as best as I could to take it all in to memory. Once Kevin woke up I took the below video. Obviously I will never ever become a filmmaker but if you can suffer through, you can see the casita and the resort a little bit.





As this is already a really long entry, I will end it here. Thank you again for waiting so long for me to un-relax to actually write it out.

Mini Roadside America Road Trip - Orange County\Long Beach, CA

In the early 1990’s, when everyone I knew around my age smartly went off to college, I began what I like to call my Wander Years. One could argue that I still am in my Wander Years, but it surely wouldn’t be the move-every-3-months craziness as it was before; for awhile I was doing a tri-state move-fest between Wisconsin, Colorado, and oddly enough, Missouri. Both during and between moves, I would visit other states to either check out a potential new place to move, or just for stupid teen-twenties parties (the Anarchist Picnic in Indiana springs to mind). During this time frame I bought this book, the new Roadside America Handbook.

I used to spend hours at the Denny’s on 6th and Wadsworth in Lakewood, CO pouring over that book, dreaming of the road trip across America I would one day take in my 1963 convertible something - once I could afford it. Think Tom Cochran’s ‘Life is a Highway’ video minus Tom Cochran. I’d see the giant peach in Gaffney, South Carolina! I leave a deposit at the 3-story outhouse in Bryant Pond, ME! I’d defy gravity in Santa Cruz, CA! I had that book dog-eared and highlighted with notes in the margins. And for a while you couldn’t even see me without seeing that book in tow.

Sadly, the book, as well as the Denny’s on 6th and Wadsworth is long gone. I never did make that road trip though I’d be a damn liar if I said it still wasn’t one of my dreams.

Recently I ran into the Roadside America website. Looking through the entries for the Muffler Man and the Giant Egg brought me back to those early Denny’s Days. I decided that although I don’t have the fortune or vacation time to do my cross-country trip the way I meant it to be, I could certainly do a mini Roadside America road trip on Saturday afternoon. So that’s exactly what I did.

Checking out the site map, I decided that quantity would have to rule over quality in my mini trip. I grabbed a map, a soda, a full pack of smokes, kissed the boyfriend good-bye, and off I went.


When traffic was actually light.

The first stop was White House Doll Museum in Anaheim. The description was, “Hobby City is a street packed with a variety of hobby stores. One building that jumps out is a half-size version of the White House. It contains a 4,000+ item toy and doll museum and a large Barbie and Ken collection.” I found traffic getting to this wayside was a pain in the ass. I found the half-sized version of the White House just as disappointing. I would like to point out, however, that if I ever decide to build a model again, I’m coming here. I didn’t have the $2.00 in cash to look at the actual doll museum, so after taking a picture, I was on to my next destination.

Radical Reptiles was unfortunately not open

…which was the giant donut! Of the three wayside attractions I wanted to see the most, the giant donut was the highest on my list. This may stem from fond childhood memories of the giant cows in both South Dakota and Wisconsin (Dad: “Look! Giant Cow! Moo! MOO!”). I just love giant … whatevers. That sounded dirty so we’re going to move on.

As you can see from the picture, the sign obviously say ‘bagel’. I happen to know that it’s actually a donut that got converted to a bagel at some point in time, so donut I will call it, ‘bagel’ be damned. And I obviously had to have a donut there or else I’d just be cheating. It wasn’t half bad.

Mmmmm....donut.

After the donut and the picture taking, I moved on to Long Beach where the World’s Largest Flag is kept. I wasn’t sure what to expect – would the flag be on display in a museum? Would it be wrapped in one of those flag triangles? I had no idea, nor did I have an exact address. The website said it was on 4th and Lime. When I got to 4th Street, I made a right turn thinking that Lime would soon come up. I passed Orange Ave, Walnut Ave, and Cherry Ave before I realized I was going in the wrong direction. I made a u-turn a low and behold, world’s largest flag. I’m such a dumbass. If I had simply looked left instead of right at 4th I wouldn’t have been able to miss it. It’s the world’s largest flag after all.

I pulled over and over compensated my dumbass-ness by taking 20 different pictures. I must have looked really patriotic.

Deceased Flag Owner...and bird.

After the giant flag I headed home. I was a bit disappointed as the three attractions didn’t take more than an hour or so to see (including driving). I wish I had known or else I would have fit in Hitler's Beer Steins and Richard Nixon’s Birthplace and Library.

*Sigh*. Maybe next time.

Well kids, next week’s update is going to be a bit late. Kevin and I are cruising out of state for a few days. I don’t want to give too much away, but I do promise multiple updates when we return.

Orange Picking Party -Riverside, CA

Hey! Check me out! I got out of the house this weekend. AND, to even further my greatness (ahem) I stayed away from the water and went INLAND*! And to think I almost ended up with another home entry. I have to thank the text message from my very funny Irish friend, Patrick, who asked, “Moe, new this w/e, an Orange Picking Party, Interested?”

Which I responded, “As long as I don’t have to get up at the butt crack of morning, Totally!”**

I really didn’t know what to expect from the Orange Picking Party. Was it at a huge orange grove? What kind of people would be there? Should I bring anything? What should I wear? Will I get dirty? Is it far? What time? What’s blue? When a teacher picks his nose during a student’s exam, will he fling that booger far? *** I limited my questions to Patrick as I didn’t want him to un-invite me.


Oranges silly.

We arrived in Riverside around 2:30 PM. The band (there was a band!) was already playing and the oranges that were in arms reach were already picked off. There were plenty of oranges higher up so I grabbed a bag and an orange-picking pokey stick**** and began collecting. I also had to finish my beer really quickly as attempting to maintain balance on a slopie hill while trying to pull an orange from a tree using the orange-picking pokey stick and holding an increasingly heavy bag of oranges all the while holding a beer just wasn’t working. Kevin and I had to ask for advice from Michele’s son, Baron:



I ended up picking two large grocery bags worth. After the first bag I mentally told myself there would be no way I would need so many oranges even if I made orange juice and orange pie and orange muffins and orange fruitcake loaf for the next week. But I couldn’t stop picking those damn oranges. I’ve never picked my own food before. ***** It was awesome.


I don't know who this kid is but he cracks me up.

After I exhausted my orange picking efforts (Kevin had long since deserted me for food that didn’t come from a tree), I grabbed another beer and joined Kevin on the feasting. We then sat down and watched Patrick’s band play. In the below video, the girl singing is all of 13 years old, and I am apparently fascinated by Kevin’s chicken:



If you noticed from the video, this was a family party. Which is why it was very surprising that the cops came around at 6:30 PM to shut us down for noise violations. Apparently a neighbor complained that her windows were rattling. When I asked the hostess of the party if she invited everyone in the neighborhood she said, “Well I normally do but this year I didn’t.” D’oh! There must have been one angry neighbor who wanted to get her oranges picked. (hee)


Very Inland Riverside

Not wanting to have ‘the man’ bring us down, we stuck around for another hour or so. Take that ‘man’!


Patrick, the very funny drum-playing Irish man.

When we said good-bye to Patrick and Michele, I thanked them for inviting us. Patrick just smiled and mentioned that I must get a kick out of writing about things like this to make the people back home in the cold and snow jealous. I smiled back and said, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

*In California standards, going 5 miles east of the Pacific Ocean is considered ‘inland’. I know it’s absurd but I don’t make the rules I just Roman it (as in, ‘when in Rome’…I just made that up by the way; I wonder if it will stick).

**Not exact text message back, I am simply paraphrasing.

***And the answers are: Not a very big grove, maybe 15 trees. A buncha different types of people, mostly families. Bring beer. Wear anything you damn well please. If you want to get dirty. About 40 minutes away. ‘Round 1 PM. A color, dumb ass. Yes, it will fling farther than the further galaxy.

****Not actual name. Duh.

*****OK, OK, save for a couple raspberries on hiking trips, tomatoes from my small garden, and apples from my grandmother’s back yard. But I’m telling a STORY here.

Sidenote: I don't know what YouTube does to videos to make them look so grainy...the real video is much better. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.