Christy had the day off for MLK Day so she picked up Linda early this morning..well, okay it was 8 O’clock but still. I’m not quite sure where they’re going or what their plans are but I wouldn’t be surprised if they call later from the nearby Ft. McDowell Indian casino to say they weren’t making any money but having a lot of fun. That’s fine with me since Linda, who hasn’t summoned up the courage to drive here yet, stays home while I drive off somewhere to play golf twice a week. And, the weeks are quickly passing by; less than two to go before pointing Big Red northeast and the long ride back to reality. I’m enjoying my quiet time alone in the house, though. It’s a pretty nice place. Not too expensive and there’s plenty of room for the two of us. Oh, what the heck..here’s the ten cent tour. Our condo is located in one of the oldest parts of Fountain Hills..which doesn’t mean much since the whole community is less than forty years old.
It’s not much from the outside except there’s a nice big tree out the front (only) door and a little patio that is just fine for both sunning and star gazing. Fountain Hills is a “dark” community; meaning there are no street lights. Some might say that’s a dangerous precedent but most here believe that beholding the heavens on a clear night without light pollution is worth the risk of being mugged or burgled in the dark.
Our landlord, a great guy from Iowa, has provided for all our creature comforts fully furnishing the place including a couple of flat screen TV’s and wireless internet. Linda left the place so sparkling clean when our month was up last year, he waived both the security deposit and cleaning fee this time around.
Inside, the main floor consists of a small living room, kitchen and dining area; cozy, clean and comfortable.
When Linda and I first started coming out here 15 years ago (a week back then.. not a month) everybody said we must experience the burgers and music at Greasewood Flat..a few miles from Scottsdale up in the mountains. The setting is outdoors and rustic and dang cold in January after the sun goes down even with the wood burning barrels going full blast. It had been a long time since we’d been there so I surprised the girls with a return trip to Greasewood on Saturday afternoon.
I’m still pretty much of an idiot when it comes to computers which is to say I accidentally erased a bunch of your comments again from my last blog. Sorry.
Ooops, the tranquilly of my quiet morning has suddenly been shattered by the roar and metallic banging of garbage trucks in the alley and the annoying buzz of Spanish powered leaf blowers out my window. Suddenly I’m feeling homesick for the comforting and familiar sound of neighborhood snow blowers being fired up at all hours and the sight of them shooting great white streams of freshly fallen snow into the crisp air of a South Dakota winter. Well, sort of.