"You lazy bastard!" she cried. "Is there some reason why you can't be bothere dto write about our trip?" she asked. "You embarassed about something?" Jeri sneered, her hand closing into a tight fist.
I can take a hint.
My friend Big Gary was finally tying the know to his love of the last decade, Dawn, at the Tonto National Monument. As Dawn happens to be Jeri's oldest friend, of course we were going to be making the trek and seeing that said ceremony went off without a hitch.
Friday, after puttering for seemingly forever around the house, watching Jeri make sure the auto feeders for the indoor and outdoor residents were full, and set in place we loaded up the car and headed out for Rim Country. No sooner had we pulled out of the driveway, than Jeri ripped her chewy thing out of her mouth and said "I'm hungry, are we almost there?". So after filling the car with petrol, there was a slight delay while we stopped off at this Wendy's joint for a happy meal for Jeri.
And then, then we could finally head out towards the highway. I had opted to take the route that didn't include Phoenix, driving instead along AZ 77, through Globe and the whatnot. Of course, for the trip I had packed an ample supply of Fox & Hound, Vermont Maple Cavendish, my beloved Vintage Syrian, and some Pastry for Jeri. In doing so however, I also forgot to pack underwear, socks, changes of clothing. "Just like camping!"
I've never figured who, or why anyone would choose to live in Globe AZ, or Mammoth AZ for that matter. Globe does have a charming downtown, seemingly right out of the '50's, but what exactly do you do there? It's hot, it's desolate, and aside from the downtown, pretty fuckin ugly. We stopped at the local KFC so I could change baby Jeri's big girl panties, and quickly headed back out. (It should be noted here, that Jeri didn't believe me that check-in stopped at 8:00.)
Roosevelt Lake is a magnificent sight for sure. I'm sure it would be a splendid place to canoe about, fishing line tagging along, Jeri quietly taking photos, reading, writing poetry, working on her macrame etc.
As darkness fell upon us, we navigated along the mountain road towards Payson. Payson is brilliantly lit at night by the center of Payson, the casino. We didn't dare stop in Payson then however, as the 8:00 deadline was fast approaching. Because there was a deafening growl coming from Jeri's belly, we were keeping our eyes out for restuarants to eat at, after check in.
Through the village of Pine AZ we passed (poplulation 12), and a few minutes later, the glow of Strawberry was upon us. Yes! Finally, civilization, and a thriving metropolis at that! (Strawberry has a population of 6.) (And yes, we met all 6).
The inn we stayed at was very charming, and the innkeeper was very kind, jovial, polite and informative to say the least. She began ticking off the names and locations of various eateries nearby; the look on Jeri's face when she heard they all closed at 8 brought tears to my eyes. There was 1 location however and I'll talk about that later.
The room was warm, and very quaint. Homemade quilts and an abundance of books were in the room. The only thing lacking was soap. We decided that after dinner, we'd hit a local market and get some soap of our own.
And to the Sportsman Chalet we went! THE local Strawberry hangout, a sportsbar of sorts. (For AZ readers, think The Buffet + Famous Sams + a Nogales Jail). On the menu for Jeri and I: Onion Rings, wings, and mozzerella sticks! Jeri, dined mostly on cabernet, while I greedly shoveled deep fried goodnes into my mouth! Yea for deep fryers! The bartender/cook/waitress/auto mechanic did relay the unfortunate news that not only were the markets closed, but Rim Country had outlawed the use of soap in protest of vivisection in the mid-1980's. Crikey! No soap, no clean underwear, no nothin!
Early the next morning, I made the drive back into Pine to see if this soap thing was fo reals. I pulled into Uncle Toms Kwik Stop (on our way in the night before, I had commented that I hoped Tom was really an uncle, and that we weren't headed for Aryan Militia country). I suppose it was Tom himself who helped me that morning, sure enough the information from the tavern was incorrect, and I did get a bar of soap. And coffee, and at the persistence of the staff, a couple of cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven....and I mean right out of the oven. Uncle Tom is a good man!
Later, we headed into Tonto National Monument for the wedding. I'll post photos if and when Jeri gets around to getting them developed (yes, a real camera!) (a nice one too, one that I am *not* allowed to touch...EVER!).
As soon as we parked, Jeri abandoned me in favour of the bride, and bridal party. In my madness, I loped about the park, taking in the sights, smells, sounds, and began the continuing process of swatting flies from my head.
Of all weddings I've attended (except for the Ruesegger-Lopez event), this is the only one I've enjoyed, or really took seriously. None of the pretentious pomp and circumstance, rows of bridesmaids/groomsmen nonsense. It was a casual event, as hiking was encouraged, and the ceremony was a touching, personal one. Memorials were made to honor those who had died and therefore couldn't attend, very respectful.
Granted there were a lot of flies, and 1 child who felt it necessary to carry on. Once again, I'd like to thank my urologist, kudos my man!
Later that night, Jeri and I hit up this Giuseppe's joint across the street from the inn. When the cunt of a hostess *greeted* us, I nearly turned and walked out. (She and other waitstaff were, and forever shall be referenced as cunts,). We were grudingly seated. During the 20 minutes that we waited for our orders to be taken, we listened to a codgy old bastard carry on about how the restaurant and stolen his goddamn credit card, and so forth. I didn't really feel sorry for the cunts dealing with him, and kept insisting we leave. Jeri however had her eyes on the prize that certainly lay ahead of us. Finally, a waitress was ordered to "deal with us", and she did so, with great pleasantry.
Ever since having Italian food in Italy, it's hard to eat in Italian restaurants here in the US. Especially here in Arizona. Nothing, absolutely nothing comes even close. In Tucson, there's Caruso's and Mamma Louise's which are highly touted and raved about, but as a rule, they omit any seasoning from their food. The clumsy Olive Garden serves it up much better. So, Jeri and I were expecting less than spectacular food from Giuseppe's.
We were wrong wrong wrong!
The meal began with fresh greens, with homemade bleu cheese dressing. Sinfully delicious, huge gobs of mold everywhere! Antipasto instead of bread or rolls, and perfectly cooked calamari began the meal. Then the entrees arrived. I should have been clued in by the normal, practical size portions of food rather than the plates that could feed 5. Looking at the sausage on my plate I knew, and the taste of course was magnificent. It was homemade. It seemingly melted in my mouth. Who knew, that in Strawberry AZ of all places, one could find bonafide Italian fare. I wouldn't hesitate to hit up Strawberry, just for dinner at Giuseppe's. Amazing, tear invoking dinner.
Outside of the wedding, the inn and Giuseppe's that just about sums up Strawberry. There ain't shit to do there. Ok, there is one sight, the "Oldest Schoolhouse in Arizona" is there. We did spend some time there of course, when in Rome....
Highlights of Pine was the fudge an Uncle Tom's.
Highlights of Payson, leaving Payson.
Returning home, we drove took the Phoenician route (as planned of course), and made an impromptu stop off at Ikea.
JAH SHOE FUCKIN WAH!!
Oh and one other highlight: The most inexpensive petrol I've seen in years. Years!
As this was found lurking around the department today, I thought I'd take advantage of the situation and negotiate myself a raise; first by having them badger the dept. head for the raise, and when that failed, by citing harassment. As is standard procedure, what with the budget cuts and what not and so forth, I earned another 12 "Hug Points". (Only 437 more, and I can hug the Dean!)
As President of the Southern Arizona Chapter of the Carly Simon Association, and as a member of the Board of Drectors for the Western Region Committee for the Preservation of All Things Carly; I speak not only from my heart, but from the hearts of nearly 800 proud Carly Simon fans. This is an outrage, and actions such as this cannot be tolerated, not only does it hurt Carly's feelings, but it is just MEAN MEAN MEAN!! (The extra explanation mark means I am really mad!!!)
Mere moments after I had finally tested Kerry's patience with my phone call yesterday, I remembered something I had forgotten to mention. My first thought was, "well, let me call him right back". As my porky stump like fingers fumbled on the keypad, hitting the 8 and the 0 at the same time, I had a vision of Kerry, finally begin released from the stammerings and mumblins of Joshua; uttering a "Jesus!", and either unplugging the phone, or scurrying out of his EMPIRE just as fast as his grown up sized feet could move. (I suspect the latter, and in my mind Kerry's right about the 8 foot mark in height, which compared to my 5'4 frame, is "grown up size"). 