I didn't drive. Jeremiah doesn't like to drive my car (I think it's a jealousy/comfort thing. He isn't used to a comfortable car), so we took the Ford. Now, the above picture shows what happens when you don't listen to Gus. Gus told us to stay to the left, stay to the left, exit left, exit left, damn it. But we didn't, because really? What idiots put exits on the left side of the highway? The idiots in the great state of AZ, apparently. So the picture is what happens when you get off the highway in the wrong part of town. I was going to take a picture of a man with his shopping cart full of treasures, but he was changing out of his morning wear (just shucking some layers) into his day wear and don't we all deserve a bit of privacy for that?
'Kay. Back on track. City view on the way from Lush in Scottsdale to Revolver. Can I just say? I was on a roll in the coffee shop in Scottsdale. J. even told me to knock it off. I mean, really though. Do you need to wear your sunglasses in a dimly lit cafe? Do you need to wear platform wedges when you are eighty? One false move and that old chickie would be bed ridden with a broken hip. Relax, people. Jeremiah was so sweet when we left the mall, though. As we approached his car in the parking garage (filled with foreign cars...totally should have taken my car!) he made a "bleep bleep" noise to mimic automatic car locks. He didn't want me to feel left out.
Here we are going through some mountains. If you feel so inclined, there are bike paths (I tried mountain biking once. I went over the handlebars. I cried. I was bruised and bloody. There was a great deal of pouting and swearing. I figure I don't need to go again.) as well as hiking paths.
There's also the Desert Botanical Gardens in case you wonder what the desert might look like. You can pay $20 and see the desert. We've actually done this, not out of curiosity to see the desert (because, duh) but because we were feeling all culture-y and wanted to see the Chihuly exhibit (which, by the way, reminds me - I am totally going to have Jeremiah start wearing an eye patch over his blind eye. Maybe then the girl at the deli won't have to worry about me jumping over the counter and attacking her as she gushes about how much MY boyfriend looks like David Bowie. Shut up, meat girl. If you keep saying nice things like that then I'm going to have to say nice things to him. He'll start to expect it. That might have been the last time we went to that grocery store. Or it might have been the time when I saw a guy with a gun in the meat department. Or the time when we shopped with someone else's grocery cart. We'll have to discuss this another time).
Here's a nice city scape. It looks nice from a distance, no?
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