up on the watershed

Sunday, June 19, 2005

battle wounds

I went to the batting cages this afternoon to work on my swing. Let's face it: there's not much you can do over the course of one season to grow amazing biceps and triceps in order to hurl the ball faster and harder from RF to third. Nope, that takes a lot more time (and dedication). But you can improve your swing with practice.

I had some decent hits, lots of mediocre ones, and a few bad swings. By pitch 56, the blister I didn't even know I had burst and I was in agony for the last pitchy goodnesses of my token. I was batting without a glove because I'm a) not that hard core b) cheap and c) don't want to buy one. Plus, I was laboring under the assumption that you could bat endlessly without getting blisters! Guess that illusion is shattered. Ow.

Its sister in blisterhood is developing just below, too. Quite possibly I'll have to invest in a glove tomorrow afternoon so I can bat without pain tomorrow night. You can imagine how thrilled I am about this.

Friday, June 17, 2005

clothing

The oldest functional piece of clothing I own was purchased nearly 7 years ago, when I was a wee high school senior visiting prospective colleges. After a few hours on the Denison campus, I was totally, completely, head over heels in love with it and insisted on buying a sweatshirt in the campus bookstore. This sweatshirt has seen me through seven years of winters, seven years of chilly summer nights. It's a plain gray sweatshirt with DENISON emblazoned in faux navy suede letters and some very pretty embroidery, sized XXL.

It was probably too big for me when I purchased it and it is definitely too big for me now since I wore it through the years when it was too small for me. The cuffs on the wrists are tired, the cuff on the bottom even more so. It doesn't even provide that much warmth anymore, the jersey matted from having been through dozens upon dozens of washings over the years and packed, tight, over and over again into suitcases. It is made of some sort of super fabric, since any and all errant stains have always washed right out with ease. I have a lot of pictures of me in this sweatshirt--it's what I wore when my friends and I took final pictures before leaving for college. It is what I reached for, again and again, when I couldn't face all the ill fitting shirts and blouses I owned during college. I have worn it through friendships and candlelights and hours of drudgery at the office and summer concerts in the park, fall frolics around the block, camping in three different states, countless air and car trips and relationships and hook ups and entire life stages. It's what I wear when I really need to reach for comfort, for something comfortable. There is comfort in familiarity.

This sweatshirt is far past its prime and yet, I can't really imagine ever stocking a closet without it.

I think of this sweatshirt, sometimes, when I am stepping into my prom dress. Oh, I know it's cliche--all women supposedly want to fit into their high school formal wear forevermore--but I am seriously looking forward to the day I can zip that plummy-magenta shot fabric with tulle skirt all the way up, baby. In another 20 or 30 pounds, it ought to come together again and I might very well give away that beautiful dress. But I guarantee I will still reach for my sweatshirt from time to time.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

gustatory delights

Pressure's off now that we actually have a place to live in Tucson. May I say WOO and HOO? And so, I finally feel justified in ending my candles-lit-mumured-prayer-"ohpleaseletusfindaplacetolive" vigil and telling you about my trip.

The short version: Lots of house hunting. Some good food. Some excellent food. More househunting. TONS of driving. Good times with very cool friends. A big old mountain. More good times.

I got into Tucson on Tuesday afternoon and grabbed lunch at Baggin's, a local sandwich place (similar in ubiquity to Big Mike's for you Madisonians, but a little more upscale). My 'wich was awesome and very remniscient of the one I had at Bison Witches back in March, but a step or two better. Each Baggin's sandwich comes with a not-great but complimentary chocolate chip cookie. Total damage with a drink: about $7, I think.

I went to PF Chang's for dinner because I was feeling vaguely lonely and the PFC always reminds me of the fair college on the hill. Their Mongolian beef, while it probably pales in comparison to more authentic fare, haunts me in my sleep and my 3rd time enjoying it was just as enjoyable as my dreams. I don't really advocate eating in national chain restaurants because really? What's the point of eating the same food you can get in Ohio while in Arizona? But I succumbed to the need for something familiar and only felt a little guilty about it afterwards.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up bright and early and ate in the overpriced and lackluster hotel breakfast cafe. For lunch, I headed down to Fourth Avenue (the State St-esque neighborhood of the UA, for the Wisconsin homefries) and went to Delectables, which I'd read quite a lot about. The service was a bit slow, but the hostess made up for that with her utter friendliness and later, her total understanding when I realized I had left my wallet in my car. She gladly accepted "anything" I wanted to leave as collateral while I ran back to fetch it.

The waldorf chicken salad board was precisely what my body needed--fresh fruits, some good cheese, a little bit of bread and plenty of protein in the salad. It was all very immaculately presented and really the perfect summer lunch. I will totally go back. Damage with the world's cutest little bottle of Diet Coke: around $10.

Alright, this is getting long.

Wed dinner at Chuy's: Chuy's is a Mexican inspired regional chain with fire grilled meats and veggies and all you can serve yourself salsa and chips. I had chicken fajitas and they were quite tasty. Lots of chicken and veggies, good beans, average tortillas. I really dug their fresh salsa. Damage: around $8.

Thursday breakfast was at the hotel again. Lunch was back down on Fourth Avenue at Maya Quetzal, a tiny Guatemalan restaurant. Awesome service (even if they did overcharge me a bit on the bill), good quesadilla de frijoles negros y refritos and the spiciest salsa I encountered in Tucson. They have a small to average sized menu, but lots of options for veggies and meat eaters alike. Dinner was the shining star of the day--we ended up going to Rosa's, a Tucson institution for several decades. I guess Rosa herself used to do the cooking. Rosa's put the Mexican we have in Madison (even El Pastor and La Hacienda) to utter shame. I had my standard of enchiladas de queso and the sauce was seriously incredible. HUGE plates at Rosa's, which sadly, I let them toss since I had no frig back at the hotel. The salsa was quite good, too.

Friday lunch was a quick stop to Sweet Tomatoes, my only other chain weakness, because my body was crying for vegetables. My salad did not disappoint. On Friday night, I finally gave in to my years-long desire to actually try Sonic, since my dinner plans with a friend fell through due to our mutual end-of-week exhaustion. There are none in Wisconsin and precisely 1 in Ohio, so I hadn't ever been there, despite years of raving from my friends down south. The diet cherry limeade was all I ever hoped it'd be, but everything else was not terribly impressive. My burger was overdone and over-accountrementfied and the cheddar peppers were soggy and tepid by the time I got them. Still, diet cherry limeade? Please marry me. I will do your laundry.

And that, my friends, was my gustatory tour of Tucson. When I'm next in town, I want to go to Old Pueblo Grille and Cafe Poca Cosa. Both get rave reviews, but felt a little too formal for me, the solo traveler, to try out alone. Who's in?

HOME

Friday, June 03, 2005

beauty


A few miles up the Catalina Highway on Mt Lemmon, the saguaros all disappear.


They're replaced by other types of cacti and other succulents.


Cholla flower, up close.

Several miles up, the mountains look almost prairie-like.

More prairie. The temp had already dropped a good 10 degrees at this point.


Ancient tree near the vista.


More hills.


Near the very top, the terrain turns into heavily wooded forest. This is overlooking the San Juan river valley.


Rock formation, -20 degrees in temperature.


At the end of the highway is a little village called Summerhaven. The Mt. Lemmon Cafe's pies are your reward for the 28 mile drive.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

behind me

I might live here a lifetime and still never tire of the surprise I get each time I look in my rear view mirror; it's filled with mountains.