those mice ain't playing anymore

A promise was made to my cat-crazed daughter about a year ago, and it went something like this: Yes, you can get a cat...WHEN we move into a place that we own (as opposed to renting, which we were doing at the time). And so, now, let me present...

(drum roll, please)

...a promise kept:

Blogosphere, meet Rosa.

Rosa, Blogosphere.

"Why Rosa?" I wanted to know when cat-crazed daughter announced her name.

"Because she's beautiful like a rose, and because she's cute, and because I was thinking about Princess Rosa from Puss in Boots."

Fair enough. This kitty is beautiful, and she has an awesome little personality. She's a year old, so she's already litterbox trained, more mellow than a kitten and very self-assured. She also arrived at the Coconino Humane Society with two kittens - one six weeks and one six months. So, it appears the poor thing has already had two litters, which may explain her petite size and can-do attitude.

I'm a little worried that Rosa isn't happy here in her new home, though - that she may be a bit too tense:

And Lizzie? How's Lizzie liking her new sister, you ask? Oh, Lizzie is thrilled beyond belief! Lizzie can hardly contain her excitement! Lizzie is...

...Well, I'm sure she will be exceedingly pleased in time, right?

Right??

I think Lizzie may be smelling her halo. Or maybe I've just had a certain song stuck in my head today. Either way, our new addition is already a blessing.

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keeping it simple

The inside of the house looked like a tornado hit it today: The massive cardboard box from the range we picked up at Best Buy sat in the middle of the living room floor, embellished with scarves, blankets, dog toys - anything that would make its new incarnation as a secret fort more complete; half-finished homework covered the coffee table while the afternoon light from the west-setting sun pressed through the slats of the blinds. And the ottoman...The ottoman was awash in cat books (felines being daughter's long time obsession). My (paying) work for the day was nearly finished, and I had my babies with me (I'll still be calling them that when they have families of their own, I'm sure). In short, life was complete.

The three of us sat sprawled on the couch like a pile of puppies, and we just talked. Son asked if I'd ever experienced a natural disaster, like a hurricane or a tornado. I told him I hadn't been through either of those, but there was the '89 Loma Prieta quake, which I experience firsthand as a new employee at the Pacific Garden Mall in Santa Cruz, which was largely destroyed that day, twenty years ago this October. Then the conversation shifted to the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, where my grandfather lived. He was just a boy right about the age my son is now, and my mother tells me that, shortly after the quake hit, he was running down the street carrying the precious family portrait, since each person basically had time to carry just one thing.

I know time isn't something you can carry in a literal sense. It's fleeting and resistant to any human effort to control it. But I'll tell you this: If time could be carried, if it could be removed from danger and taken elsewhere, that half hour on the couch today would be the kind of thing you'd see clutched in my arms as I ran toward safety.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the reasons for vegas

I've discovered that there are many reasons to head for Vegas, which is ironic, considering the fact that I used to loathe the very thought of Sin City. The main reason for visiting seems to have to do with casting all cares aside and heading toward the showiest adult playground to be found anywhere (done that). Then, of course, there's the getting-married-by-Elvis-in-a-chapel-off-the-Strip reason (haven't done that, though I know people who did get married there (not by The King)). There's getting away with the girlfriends for a no holds barred weekend of lounging and dressing up and occasionally making a fool of one's self (I strongly resemble that remark). And then there are the family get-togethers (ditto). This time, I found myself focusing on the sights - specifically, the sights to be found behind glass in the bakeries and Gelato shops:


The artistry is intense, and the confections prove to be treats for all the senses, not just the tastebuds



When you stare up at the ceiling in the lobby of the Venetian, you feel like you're right smack dab in the middle of the Vatican, and the fact that the hotel was chock-full of Italians might attest to its authenticity. As a friend pointed out, though, it does seem a bit odd to travel to another country and seek out a hotel that is basically a replica of your homeland.


Over at the Bellagio, there is a fairly amazing Conservatory of Flowers that makes such a nice getaway from the hustle and bustle of the casino and shops (even if the miraculous concoction that is the Chocolate Nut Martini is located there in the Baccarat Bar). I also noticed that people start smiling these serene, joyous smiles as soon as they walk into the conservatory - and it's not an expression that's easy to find on the casino floor, where faces tend to look much more distracted and glazed over. There are flowers, butterflies and birds galore in the conservatory, including these lorakeets (I'm pretty sure that's what this is):

There's also a hypnotic, glass waterball. I want one in my sunroom.

And, did I mention that Gelato reigns as far as the eye can see?

Who knows what the reason for my next trip to Vegas will be. But this one was a fun getaway. And, as an Italian man sitting behind us on a bench as we all waited for our vehicles said (in Italian - my mom translated): "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

"Not for you it doesn't," answered his wife.

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English, not British

I had a blast at the Giles Carradine dressage clinic in Flagstaff yesterday, and then drove to Vegas immediately afterward with my mother, who's in town for a visit and hasn't seen this city in about twenty years. More pics of everything a bit later. Right now it's time to hit the Strip, Baby. Sephora, especially, which is one of those stores that always makes me wish I had tons of kwan to spend - but who does in this economy, right?

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the reason for cheesecake

It just occurred to me that I pretty much stole the title of this post from Chitra Divakaruni, who wrote a book of poetry years ago called The Reason for Nasturtiums. But, I digress.

So, this really yummy-looking cherry cheesecake was taking up space in my fridge lately, and I didn't know what to do with it. The first people I thought about serving it to all have lactose intolerance to some degree or another, so they were out. I was hesitant to dive into it myself, since I doubted my ability to know when enough was enough. So, it just sat there.

Then, I was out with the weed whacker the other day, trying to clear at least some semblance of a three-foot zone around the house so that when all the boob-high weeds (the ones that were busy growing like Audrey II while we were in the Bay Area) dry out, the house won't go up in flames as soon as some rogue flash of lightning strikes.

It was going pretty well until I heard my cell phone ringing, turned off the whacker, and realized that I could hardly hold the phone because my arm was so exhausted. Sounds wimpy, I know, and maybe it is. But if you've never seen a Northern Arizona, boob-high weed ("like tree trunks" was how one friend put it), much less tried to whack one with a light weight edger, please don't judge my girly arms.

Apparently, a kindly neighbor couple decided to take pity on me, because the next thing I knew, the husband had wheeled over a big ol' push whacker (kind of like a lawn mower, but for mass weed slaughter instead) and was showing me how to fill the tank, pull the cord to start the thing and reinstall the line. I worried a little about putting the wear and tear on someone else's equipment, and the thing did pick up some stray wire and baling twine hiding in the brush...but it was AWEsome. I so totally need to get a push-along weed whacker.

The problem was, with all the moving boxes scattered hither and yon, I couldn't find my supply of trade soap - bars I use for trading out with folks who loan, give or help me with something. And these neighbors did not ask for or expect anything in return - that was made quite clear. Still, I like a fair trade. So, there I stood in my kitchen after rolling the whacker back over to their shop, thinking, "What can I trade?" I opened the fridge, and there it was: a perfectly lovely cherry cheesecake, saying, "Trade me!"

So, I did. And the looks on their faces when I handed it over were proof enough that it was a fair trade indeed.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

so, I bought a house

...which is one of the reasons the blog went dark for a couple of eons this summer.

It's been one of those huge, life changing/life affirming/life imploding (in a good way) events into which I found myself diving head first back in May:

"I really think you should come check out this house a few miles west of here," said my realtor.

"But I don't want to move farther west," I told her. "If anything, I want to move farther east."

"It's a good deal, and it's only been on the market for a day."

"I don't know..."

"It's a horse property."

"When can we go look?"

So, we drove out to a little subdivision I've passed hundreds of times in the past decade - on my way to church, to the store, to the Grand Canyon. And there it was:

It's an old El Paso house, which means it was built for one of the EP workers (and maybe for his young family as well) back when the natural gas pipeline was going through. There are a few more of these in the neighborhood, and a guy who lives in one of them told me they were built extra sturdy so they could be moved, if need be...farther down the line, I suppose.

Inside, there are these old oak floors which, while in need of some TLC, might just be magnificent someday. That's my monstrous wood stove in the corner. I plan to use it as our primary source of winter heat, since propane is so dad-gummed expensive:

And there's a utility/laundry/workshop/sunroom, which may just be the thing that finally sold me on the place. It's already set up as a homework and soaping center. Updated pics to come:

These are my Red Hot Pokers out front. I'm still getting used to that term "mine." I mean, it could be argued that nothing is really "ours," that it's all God's - or that the Earth doesn't belong to us, we belong to the Earth, etc. But....oh, heck, You know what I mean. These are my flowers:

Here's the view out back. That's National Forest right across my fenceline, and I can't wait to head out there on Zzari while whistling Happy Trails:

Without a doubt, Independence day took on a whole new meaning this year:

I guess when it comes right down to it, I can probably sum up the whole experience in five words: It's good to be home.

I'm pretty sure Lizzie agrees:

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shun the non-believer!

omg.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

a cool writer of impressive action

One of the things I love to do while I'm in the Bay Area is to attend readings by authors I wouldn't otherwise get to see. True, we've had some great writers visit Flagstaff, from Jan Brett and Lemony Snicket for the kids to Ron Carlson and T. Greenwood for the adults. But here in Northern California you almost can't walk down the street without having a famous author whack you in the head. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Last night I attended Dave Eggers' reading at a local indie bookstore. He read from his new non-fiction work Zeitoun, which is about the horrifying experiences of a Syrian man living in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. I've been an Eggers fan since his "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" and "You Shall Know Our Velocity" days, so it was a real treat to see him in person. (If you haven't read anything by him, I recommend running out and getting something today - especially AHWOSG, which, for me, was a fun awakening to some new, stylistic possibilities in writing). He seems like a very down-to-Earth person, too, and he clearly puts his money where his mouth is (profits from the books go to worthy causes like 826 Valencia and ongoing hurricane relief efforts).

This is the sort of thing I'm going to miss when it's time to head home in a couple days.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

face to face with the boy king

We headed into the City again on Monday - three generations of us - to see the current de Young Museum exhibit that's the talk of the town: Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs. It's being advertised everywhere, including down on Fisherman's Wharf, where this enormous statue of Anubis watches over all the tourists (it looks to me like he's trying to spear that seagull for lunch):

I was lucky to see this traveling exhibit 30 years ago (yipe!), when I was the same age my son is now. Then, I was inCREDibly lucky to actually see King Tut's tomb in person in the mid-80's, when my mother and I traveled to Egypt and some of the surrounding countries in what amounted to a completely life-altering trip. I got to ride a camel around the Valley of the Kings and actually descend into the tomb (which was surprisingly cold, given the searing desert temps outside). Ancient Egyptians knew the death business inside and out, that's for sure.

There is so much to see and do in San Francisco that it's sometimes a bit overwhelming. That's one the reasons I love Golden Gate Park so much. There, you can simply stop and smell the flowers:

One of the neat kids' activities on the de Young site is the "Flat Anubis." Those of you who have grade school-aged kids have probably had some sort of "Flat Stanley" experience; Well, the Flat Anubis is basically the same thing. My son wanted his FA pic taken in front of the Conservatory of Flowers.

The old, glorious de Young building was, sadly, torn down and replaced by what I consider to be an architectural abomination, but what do I know. It's nice inside, though, and they do have a cute lily pad pond out front.

No cameras were allowed inside, so I don't have any actual pictures of the items in the exhibit (which is nicely enhanced by some theatrical technology and brilliantly narrated by Omar Sharif, both as you enter and if you purchase the audio tour, which I definitely recommend). All in all, coming "face to face with the boy king" is well worth it, so if you're in the Bay Area (or if Tut is coming to your town), be sure to go. After all, your kids may be as old as you are now the next time it comes around.

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angry beast: the city in pictures

A group of us headed over to the Academy of Sciences in San Francisco last week. It has just recently opened back up after a long re-building stretch, and the reviews are mixed.

There's a four-story rainforest there, full of butterflies. It's also home to little poison tree frogs that are almost close enough to lick. Note to anyone planning on visiting, though: get your Planetarium passes early. By the time we got there, all the passes were gone. I was especially impressed by the new and improved Steinhart Aquarium: The fishies and jellies are always a favorite:

Afterward, we headed down to the fish market section of the Wharf for lunch:

Behold the paragon of San Francisco cuisine - fresh, hot, crustilicious sourdough bread (Can you hear the angels singing? Can you?):

And the bowl of fresh clam chowder served in an edible sourdough bowl. I mean, seriously. Don't even get me started:

From there, it was short jaunt over to Pier 39 to check out the sights (I love playing tourist in my own town):

Adam and Steve as mermen...only in San Francisco:No visit to the Pier is complete without a pow wow with the sea lions. The fragrance is, in all ways, striking and unique.

We headed to a different part of the waterfront, where a bunch of the old Playland elements are on display. Playland was a turn-of-the-century amusement park on the beach in SF, and, let me tell you...Folks were TWISTED a hundred years ago. (Mommy? Looking at Jolly Jack gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my tummy...):

Anyone who saw the old Tom Hanks movie, Big, will no doubt remember Laughing Sal ("Terrifying Children for nearly a Century!").

"See Susie dance the Can-Can!" (Do we have to?)

"Here's a quarter, Timmy. Now, run along and play with the Opium Den like a good little boy..."

"Safety word...SAFETY WORD!!!"

Suffice it to say that one of these afterward would not have been a bad idea:

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oldie/goodie

I like this song. I like that the video highlights the bridge I'll drive over this morning and the city through which I'll wander with the kids. Must remember to bring the camera.

Did I mention that a big group of us went out to Limantour beach/Point Reyes the other day, and we saw dolphins leaping in the waves just off shore while the kids were learning to body surf? It's so good to have this place to come back to now and then.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

back and breathless

A full two months has passed since I last blogged, so I figured it was time to roll up my sleeves, take a deep, cleansing breath and get back to it.

But have you ever noticed that, sometimes, just getting back to it can be a little terrifying? This is especially true - I've recently discovered - after major life changes come along and upheave (Is this even a word? Because if it is, I plan to drop it into as many casual conversations as possible) all the terra firma you once took for granted. In the past year I've lost people I never expected to lose, including, to some extent, myself. And you know that thing about how we're supposed to literally become different people every seven years (something about all the changes that happen on a cellular level)? Well, I feel like I've taken the summer session/accelerated path of becoming someone I never knew existed.

I couldn't begin to cover everything I've been up to for the past two months (much less in the last 12 months) in a single post, so I'll try to start small and keep it simple, beginning with what's been going on lately.

As was the case at this time last year, I'm back in the Bay Area, visiting all those sacred (to me) places from my childhood, running at the old high school track, skinny dipping in the old swimming pool, catching up on all the changes that have been taking place here while I've been away and visiting with some of the white-haired neighbors, a few in varying degrees of declining health, who I remember being - a long time ago - roughly the same age I am now.

I can feel how the sand has shifted every time I come back home now. It's scary, yes, but it's also exhilarating, like being a first-timer on a roller coaster that's picking up speed: You know there are thrills and spills in the immediate future, but you don't yet know if they're going to make you laugh, scream or come this close to woofing your cookies. So, whatever's waiting on the tracks up ahead, here's to raising our hands high in the air and settling in for the ride of our lives.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

fotog friday: giving a hoot, and bye for now

Here are some recent things that remind me to count my blessings:

1) The "Great 4-H Enchilada Production Line"


This happened last weekend at the home of our local 4-H Swine Project leader. By the time all was said and done, there were enough enchilada orders filled to allow the club to purchase a large animal scale. This will come in handy for the market animals heading to the County Fair auction in the fall, but as the local 4-H Horse Project leader, I'm looking forward to weighing some horses on it as well. Those enchis were piled nearly floor to ceiling high, I tell ya:

2) Mother's Day roses:

Some from friends, and some from family (I am lucky to call myself richly blessed in both departments).

3) That dog:

Lizzie's herding instincts have gotten a little too intense lately, especially with all the kids we have running in and out of the house on a regular basis. So, with summer vacation fast approaching, we're getting back to some remedial training and socialization with her, including long runs and frequent trips to son's Little League practices. She's a good girl, though, so I have no doubt we'll get her hyper vigilant Aussie brain back in line. This evening she accompanied me on a long walk throughout the neighborhood, during which I was able to collect a big bag of roadside trash. Those Woodsy Owl commercials from the 70's made a big impression, though I don't think any commercial cut as deep as that crying Indian - er, Native American - canoeing past all the riverbank trash. (Is it just me, or does he bear a strong resemblance to Kramer from Seinfeld?)

And with all that said, I'm also going to say my yearly "Goodbye for now." AWAAR will be going dark for a while. How long? Dunno. What I do know is that life is demanding my focused attention in ways I could not have foreseen a year ago, and so I'll give that attention where necessary - including to the Year of Writing Dangerously, which I committed to in January and which has, heretofore, not been quite as dangerous as it should be. So, we'll see where it all ends up. Hopefully I'll have plenty of daring adventure stories with which to regale you upon my return.

Cheerio!

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w.o.k. wednesday: nanci

The finest hour I have seen is the one that comes between the edge of night and the break of day - it's when the darkness rolls away.
-Kate Wolf

Really, what more is there to say?

Actually, there's probably lots. I've loved Nanci for years, and when she came to Flagstaff with Jerry Jeff Walker when my daughter was a newborn, it was a delight. I just recently listened to her Other Voices, Other Rooms CD after a long hiatus, and I was reminded of how much I love Across the Great Divide. But This one (click on "Play this track") is, hands down, my favorite to holler along to when travelin' down the Interstate.

But, shoot: I totally forgot about Ford Econoline...he built a golden cage around his silver-coated wife. Gotta love it.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k. wednesday: interstate elvis

So, here's the deal. You and a buddy are cruising into Vegas on I-515, both of you sweating it a bit because you got a later-than-anticipated start that morning, and you're worried that maybe you won't make it to the backstage area of the venue in time to get your special passes to the evening's hot ticket.

Traffic over Hoover Dam has set you back further, as have all the RV-hauling lookie-loos on the road - all of whom are apparently allergic to driving any faster than ten miles below the speed limit. Further heightening the tension is the fact that you'll still have to check into the hotel at some point, get dressed, get pretty, and then get back on the road by the time the Pussycat Dolls take to the stage.

But then you look out the window at all the neighboring traffic, and you see him:

And, suddenly, everything is A-okay. Because, suddenly, you're reminded that life isn't about stressing over the details: It's all about individuality and following your bliss. It's all about the Oh-I-Just-Gotta-Be-Me.

And this Interstate Elvis? He's doing it right.

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a night at the circus

So, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement stating that I wouldn't discuss The Artist or her family. Which mean I ain't sayin' NUTHIN (though it might kill me not to). I was also told that I could face a $50K fine for taking a picture of her (and that my friend's husband could lose his job), so I didn't do that, either.

Thank Heaven for YouTube. The sound quality sucks, but you can get an idea. Also, I think the smoke used to fill up the arena was actually powder-scented, because I've been to very few concerts that didn't smell like a bong/beer/bile combo to at least some extent.

The Pussycat Dolls opened for Brit, and I didn't sign anything saying I couldn't talk about them, so I will. I have to admit, I went in a bit sneery. I mean, please. The Pussycat Dolls?? But they were actually quite talented, and they put on a great show. Here they are singing Don't Cha.

Afterward, Maiden and I wandered the Strip, grabbed a bite to eat, looked at some overpriced clothes and then CRASHED at about 2:30 a.m. like toddlers coming off a birthday party sugar binge.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

britney in vegas, baby!!!!!!!!!!

Affix those pasties, Girl, 'cause here we come. Tomorrow night. Ringside seats and backstage passes.

I am SO not kidding.

How cool is it to have friends who not only know just what the doctor ordered but know how to DELIVER the prescription right when it's needed most?

Brain is reeling.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

a small bag used for carrying money and Xanax

Somebody make it stop. Because it is too much wry goodness, and a person could possibly die from an overdose of such a thing. (Actually, a few are a little too off color/Robot Chickenish even for me, but I think the concept is absolutely brilliant.)Follow @nicole_mcinnes

fotog Friday: I was going to title this post

“not cool.”

and then I was going to be clever and write something like “On second thought, too cool.”

Because we’ve had snow this week – enough snow to coat the San Francisco Peaks, and the roads and the swing set out back. Enough coldness to leave black ice on the road when I took Lizzie out for a run yesterday evening.





Frankly, I was going to bitch about the snow and about the fact that it's mid-April for cryin' out loud, and isn't it enough that we've already had to endure tax season on top of a long winter? But then Maiden sent me a link to this. Which means the title of this post is now officially and simply: OMG. (Be sure to watch for the rundowns and sliding stops that start at about 3:40).


Maiden and I both have dads who deserve this kind of tribute whether they’re still walking this earth or not. I hope you do, too. And if you’re a guy, and you don’t happen to have that kind of dad, I sure as hell hope you can be that kind of dad. Because you're sorely needed.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

'tude tuesday: down from every ledge

Try blasting Xtina on the iPod when you're working the hip adductor machine at the gym, and see if it doesn't give your workout a boost. This particular video is for you, MP. You know why. (But why was there no swimsuit footage?)

It's Tax Time Countdown here at AWAAR, Folks - and there's been extra special, added excitement this year. But, hey. Throw in the good man Ms. Aguilera sings about, some good friends and a good (if ever-so-slightly neurotic) dog, and you (I) can tackle anything, right?

Right?

Here's to survival - tax-related and otherwise. Without it, no attitude at altitude would be even remotely possible.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

yet one more movie script i wish i'd written

And I'm not even a Sci-Fi fan.

But this. This was like The Matrix on estrogen: Pure, futuristic girl power kick-assedness.

Lurved all of it - the cinematography, the philosophy and the theology.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

w.o.k wednesday: the girls

Last fall, while sitting in my kitchen shootin' the breeze, a good friend suggested that we start a cooking group. You know, one of those regular get-togethers where the people take turns planning a meal, hosting the group, cooking the main dish, etc.

I think my initial response at the time went something like this: "Uhhhhhhhhhh."

Because let's just say that the kitchen has never been the most comfy room in the house for me (when it come to creating something, that is; I'm more than happy to eat there). My mother was and is an amazing cook, and I have many fond memories of the awesome meals she served when I was growing up. Many of them were quite cosmopolitan and almost unheard of at the time, too: Oxtail soup, tripe, stuffed cabbage rolls, cow tongue with mustard sauce - you name it. And while I knew I always had an open invitation to help out in the kitchen as a girl, I rarely took her up on it.

So, I thought my friend's cooking group idea was a good one in theory. In practice I wasn't so sure. But it turns out I needn't have worried. We've been meeting regularly for several months now, and I can honestly say that the women I've met through the cooking group have become dear and trusted friends. There's something about the "No Men and No Kids Allowed" rule that has seemed to bring us all close together. Of course, it also helps that these ladies are all incredibly intelligent, funny and ambitious to boot. Makes me appreciate my half of the species all over again every time we meet, kind of like watching Sex and the City (the movie) did when I saw it a few weeks ago.

So, we started with a nummy pork dish back in 2008. There has also been an amazing squash lasagna that was to die for, a salmon dish that I enjoyed maybe a little too much (since I was all but rolling out of the hostess' house at the end of the night) and my Moroccan chicken tagine last month. And don't even get me STARTED on the desserts. Oy. This month it looks like we're going the beef route, and there's also some recent talk of mojitos and martinis to boot. No doubt there will also be available shoulders to cry on (should they be required by one or more of us), available ears to hear all the latest man/kid/mommying/marriage/skin care news and available lungs to laugh heartily at the newest jokes.

I. Can't. Wait.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

hello, thirty-nine

Here is how my birthday began this morning. I've decided this Linkin Park number will be the official song of my 39th year.

Went on Tower of Terror with my son and my nephew. Twice. It's taken me two years to work up the nerve. All our hearts were pounding in anticipation as we waited to step inside that "service elevator." And it was SO fun.

By the time the kids and I got back to where we were staying with several other family members (south of Riverside) at about midnight tonight, this was the last thing I heard on the radio. Sweet, sweet, sweet, and completely reminiscent of junior high dances lo those many decades ago.

I'm not sure what the deal is with the Journey theme this week, but I'm just going with it. I hope you all have a great weekend.Follow @nicole_mcinnes