11.24.2004
The Pause that Refreshes
Tonight I should be sunning myself at a barstool somewhere, vodka tonic in one hand, Parliament light in the other, wearing the bangin new pumps I bought today (lizard-skin, black, slingback, pointy toe and silver stiletto) and staring at boys. Instead, I went for Vietnamese with the family (had #29 - a solid choice) and came home and took a nap! At 7:30 at night. Maybe this is why nobody calls me - it's common knowledge that if I'm not out the door by 8 p.m., I'm pretty much not going anywhere.
But really, I should be out of doors. Even though I'm quite happy at home...just don't tell anybody. I put on my flannel pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, and those spiked shoes, and called Just Joe, who chatted for about an hour about his house-hunting and my marital woes. He is looking for a new-construction home and has been shopping around the Valley for something large and fakey. I admire his dedication to wallboard. So he found this one development he's interested in out in the east Valley, but the models are out in the west Valley. So he drove all the way out there to see them - the development is called - get this: Westancia. I was like, "Joe, how come all the neighborhoods you like are named like bad bottles of wine?"
But regardless: my friend S is out tonight with her oldest girlfriends - they're hitting a swanky Scottsdale old-man bar and then - just for contrast - divey, hippie eleventeeny Casey Moore's. She was like, "Come with!" but I was just there, and probably don't need to go back. Ever. I'm too old to be hanging that close to the university.
And - a shocker - the Puppy called. He rang Sunday night and was sweet as pie on the phone. Asked me questions, was insightful, engaging, attentive. Just like when I first met him. We even got to talk rationally about why he freaked out and blew me off back in - what was it? September? I think it was September.
Anyhoo, I was reticent - not really trusting his friendly largesse, but he did ask what I would be doing tonight and invited me to go to El Chorro with him. Now, I LOVE El Chorro. It's the perfect Old Phoenix haunt. It's a rustic little hotel that sports a fabulous restaurant, one of the biggest patios in the city, and, as mentioned before, a gorgeously appointed bar with a piano player named Legs. Ahh. Heaven. So even though I wouldn't normally agree to meet up with him again, he said "El Chorro." Damn! So I said yes, absolutely! ... and then he never called.
Classic.
Technically, he's not my friend - not anymore. But he did flake on me. But to be honest, the main reason that El Chorro is so enticing on this of all evenings is because it's the place to go when you're back in town for Thanksgiving to visit your parents. So likely I would have seen a few familiar faces from high school and college. ...of course, I totally have no interest in those people socially, but I'm all about seeing what happened to them, and then mocking them later.
See how I am? Jeezus. No wonder I'm in this mess.
But really, I should be out of doors. Even though I'm quite happy at home...just don't tell anybody. I put on my flannel pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, and those spiked shoes, and called Just Joe, who chatted for about an hour about his house-hunting and my marital woes. He is looking for a new-construction home and has been shopping around the Valley for something large and fakey. I admire his dedication to wallboard. So he found this one development he's interested in out in the east Valley, but the models are out in the west Valley. So he drove all the way out there to see them - the development is called - get this: Westancia. I was like, "Joe, how come all the neighborhoods you like are named like bad bottles of wine?"
But regardless: my friend S is out tonight with her oldest girlfriends - they're hitting a swanky Scottsdale old-man bar and then - just for contrast - divey, hippie eleventeeny Casey Moore's. She was like, "Come with!" but I was just there, and probably don't need to go back. Ever. I'm too old to be hanging that close to the university.
And - a shocker - the Puppy called. He rang Sunday night and was sweet as pie on the phone. Asked me questions, was insightful, engaging, attentive. Just like when I first met him. We even got to talk rationally about why he freaked out and blew me off back in - what was it? September? I think it was September.
Anyhoo, I was reticent - not really trusting his friendly largesse, but he did ask what I would be doing tonight and invited me to go to El Chorro with him. Now, I LOVE El Chorro. It's the perfect Old Phoenix haunt. It's a rustic little hotel that sports a fabulous restaurant, one of the biggest patios in the city, and, as mentioned before, a gorgeously appointed bar with a piano player named Legs. Ahh. Heaven. So even though I wouldn't normally agree to meet up with him again, he said "El Chorro." Damn! So I said yes, absolutely! ... and then he never called.
Classic.
Technically, he's not my friend - not anymore. But he did flake on me. But to be honest, the main reason that El Chorro is so enticing on this of all evenings is because it's the place to go when you're back in town for Thanksgiving to visit your parents. So likely I would have seen a few familiar faces from high school and college. ...of course, I totally have no interest in those people socially, but I'm all about seeing what happened to them, and then mocking them later.
See how I am? Jeezus. No wonder I'm in this mess.
