chock-a-blog

and selected. I'm serving jury duty, for a week, not at this charming courthouse but at the new one next door. When it's over I'll have much to reflect upon here; while I'm serving I have much to reflect upon privately. Driving downtown every day since Tuesday has been an interesting change of routine for me. Each day we've had nearly two hours for lunch, time I've spent exploring downtown. I've lived in Tucson for the majority of my life, but I've lived within city limits for a short stint only. I wonder how I'd feel exchanging my foothills familiarity for in-city convenience, wildlife sightings for walking distance, starry skies for city lights... I admit I might like to try it.

Last weekend I escaped to this marvelous place with my best friend of decades to celebrate her birthday weekend. We started with a 90-minute massage. No pictures. Obviously. After that we checked into our lovely little B&B. A much different feel from last fall's escape to Whisper's Ranch. More authentic, less hokey. Delicious dinner served on the patio at a local eatery. Everything we did was within walking distance. Here's our before-dinner goat cheese quesadilla. And our after-dinner chocolate foam pyramid (the busser described the desserts to us). I call it a Grand Teton. Deelish. "Don't whack it!" "But it's got a whacker!" Sculpture garden adjacent to the restaurant. Kinetic. Colorful. Kitschy nichey: la Virgen de Guadalupe's little corner shrine. Morning coffee knitting klatsch. Breakfast came in a basket: croissant, yogurt, cheese, orange juice, and bananas. Local cemetery. Another home for the Virgin. Equine encounter. Shopping. T...

The other day I found this bookmark and pin in with a bag of vintage zippers I'd bought for 99 cents at Goodwill a year or so ago. The zippers I've since sold on ebay for no more than I paid for them, but I kept the pin and the bookmark. I've always rather liked the message in the serenity prayer. Serenity has yet to come to me, but those kids Paul and Lisa give me gifts of courage and wisdom every day. Courage Paul and I sit side by side in the sandbox. Sometimes we sit in the sand but more often he sits in a white plastic Adirondack chair and I sit in a blue classroom chair. We sit with our backs to the parking lot so we can look out over the playground. The rest of the kids play. We talk. "What do you want to talk about?" Paul asks. "Let's talk about rocks," I answer. "No, let's talk about squirrels." "OK," I say, thinking of something I learned in a workshop a few weeks ago. Why do kids ask you questions? Because they want...