Raphael's 33rd Birthday Deconstructed

Family in Guatemala and a Big-ass Present

Mexican Hot Chocolate in the morning

Steak, Potatoes, and Vino at Elle

Free Chocolate Pate for a Mexican Jesus

Wine and cigarettes on an Old Friend's New Porch

Indubitably Improved

Our house has undergone some changes since we were handed the key back in May. Here are some of the things that are better about our altered abode:

The bedroom ceiling - most notably the absence of insect pupae dangling from it. And the bedroom floor. Oh, also, all the other floors in all the other rooms in the house.

















The "garden" with the fat, happy Buddha. Also, the fantabulous tin-and-antique-Mexican-door fence installed by my favorite Guatemalan to keep the riff-raff out of the backyard. (Damn you, riff-raff.)

















Our relationship with Gato, our fluffy, scruffy porch accessory. As far as we know, we were not charged extra for him.

The Purty Cactus

The Ugly Duckling Cactus

Ode to Cheesy Fries

Cheesy fries, oh cheesy fries,
Piled thick and high under hot desert skies,
Enter my dreams, melt on my tongue,
Cool my damp brow with your sweet siren song.

Cheesy fries, my cheesy fries,
Under monsoon clouds, as temperatures rise,
Your salt like a kiss, you tempt me to rest
On stone patios where I am sprayed gently with mist.

Cheesy fries, darling cheesy fries,
I can't resist your seduction and would rather not try...
Silky cheese curls up your slender, potato-ey branch
As you sink voluptuously into lush pools of ketchup and ranch.

Cheesy fries, luscious cheesy fries,
Summer delight on a platter you lie,
Stick to my fingers, bring me to tears--
Oh, you taste so delicious with a couple of beers.

For Julie

The Good, the Bad, and the Still Somewhat Damp

Sometimes I can't believe I own a house. And other days (like today), I find it hard to believe I wanted to.

The good news is, after more than a week of torrential rainstorms, we can say with COMPLETE CONFIDENCE that our roof does NOT LEAK. We can't, however, say the same for the kitchen faucet, the swamp cooler, or the washing machine.

We can also boast, once again thanks to the best (worst?) monsoon season since, apparently, something like 1995, what is undoubtedly the lushest, greenest, juiciest yard on the block. Unfortunately, what we WANT, like any good Tucsonans, is a yard full of clean, wholesome gravel. What we HAVE is 100 percent weeds, most of which are more than three feet tall and probably rabid.

And finally, I'm pleased to report that both our back door and front door are at long last totally secure against outside threats (eg. drug dealers breaking in at night or bums seeking shelter in what appears to be an abandoned house). In fact, since the rain began, I can NO LONGER open the back door. Period. And opening the front door within only...oh, say two or three minutes of shutting it requires a full body slam - sometimes three. So I feel pretty safe these days-- even taking into account the knife I found on the ground outside the back door this morning.

Here's a picture of a cactus.

Still Raining

A sinkhole has opened up next to our porta-john at work.