Spirit...rest easy, my big girl...

I sit here, tears pouring down my face as I write because my dear, sweet dog friend, Spirit, is passing on right now, 10:00 this morning...I have no idea if this will read well and you know what? I don't care. I am too heart-broken to care. If you are reading and you know the love of an animal friend, then you know what I'm feeling right now. God, I feel like my heart is broken. Spirit was this amazing, aptly-named being, so full of love, so happy, playful and open. She, who would have given her life to protect me, was so often my best friend, and when I needed to be loved and accepted without any reservations, any judgement, any condition, there she was.

We who love animals this way know the heartache of having to say goodbye far earlier than we would choose, if we could. We would all have them live as long as we do, keeping us company, loved and being loved in return, if we could. It's so hard to say goodbye to a love like this. A loyal, loving friend who is always there for you, no matter what. One who adores you, trusts you, gives to you the comfort you need.

Spirit became a part of my life when I met my dear friend and then-partner, Sammi. We lived together for years, and after I moved out, I'd still visit many times a week for another couple of years. She was always so ecstatic when I arrived, leaping, circling, barking, and giving me my very own, special happy sound that she made just for me when I came in. My heart would be immediately filled with a joy unlike any other! She and I loved each other so, so much. Sammi named her and that name was no accident, for Spirit was that: spirit, in the truest sense of the word. She and Sammi were soulmates, I know it. That she loved me, too, and made me hers was a gift.

I swear I can feel her right this minute, leaning into me, curling her body around as Boxers are known to do, wiggling her butt and wriggling into my embrace, licking my face, and just loving me so exuberantly.

Damn, this is hard. I will never forget her.

On the road again...and again...

Hells bells, I've ignored my blog again! Now, how did that happen, you ask? Welllllll...there's been a whole lot going on and you'd think that would've inspired me to write, wouldn't you? Yeah, that's what I would've thought, too.

Let's just get right to it. Basically, what's been keeping me so damn busy that I've neglected the "prolific writer" part of me is that I'm making a very big change. I'm moving. Out of state. On October 1st. Again.

I know, I know...me of the "Jeez, Jul, you take up more pages in my address book than anybody else I know!" (OK, to be fair, paper address books are so outdated that I think it's a whole lot easier to keep up with me now) is once again picking up my tent stakes and heading for another set of pastures. I'm leaving Tucson's baked and cactus-strewn valley for the lush, green mountains of the Ozarks in Northwest Arkansas. Eureka Springs area, to be a little more precise, and if you already know where the town of Rogers, is, well then, that's even more precise since that's exactly where I'm headed.

When I've told people I'm moving to NW Arkansas, I've been getting one of two reactions. The first, and by far the most common, is usually a sort of surprised, though a bit blank look, with a slight stuttering accompanied by either an, "Oh," or a, "Why are you moving there?!" That's the most common reaction, by far, since I think that most people think Arkansas = Hickcity, USA (cue the banjo music from "Deliverance," please). The other reaction is an unmitigated and enthusiastic, "Wow, that sounds exciting! What a great adventure!" Guess how many of those reactions I've gotten? Yup.

Seems like folks 'round these here parts think of Arkansas as the state of no redeeming qualities if you're gay, educated, politically-cognizant, and love cultural activities, art flicks and ethnic foods. Well, I suppose the latest newsmakers from that state haven't exactly helped. A small sampling, if you will:

1. Mom gives birth to 17th child; wants more! All home-schooled and very religious, of course, with each child sporting a Biblical moniker. All basically blonde and wholesome-as-hell looking in the media photos, too. Seventeen kids and more a-comin'. Holy cow. What're the odds they could be my new neighbors? Please, no. Well, speaking of odds, guess what, Mom & Dad? 3-5 of those kids are definitely ragin' homos, a couple of 'em could probably torture an animal at some point and I bet a healthy percentage of 'em are going to be imbibing in the most taboo of pleasures since we all know the preacher's kid is the wildest one: cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, sex and let's not forget junk food. Gimme a deep fried Twinkie, baby! Those are the stats they don't print in the paper!

2. Whole lotta poverty and crime areas abound. Hmmmm. Well, that's pretty much Anywhere, USA, these days thanks to (in no particular order) hip-hop culture, meth and other assorted mind altering stuff you can ingest, our illustrious and esteemed Prez (excuse me, I need to regurgitate), and yes, junk food. Twinkie Defense ring a bell, anyone?

3. The state law has a glitch that legally allows children to marry. Either each other or older folks. Some wording issue. Great. Thanks. This is NOT helping me here, people!

4. Bill Clinton. That's really all I need to say on that one, isn't it? Except that I bet he ate a lot of Twinkies.

Ad infinitum.

OK, OK, I know it's not thought of as the hotbed of radical idealism, sexual revolution or cultural splendor, but that's where stereotyping gets a bad name.

Arkansas is the home of incredibly beautiful land; mountains and lakes holding a beauty that is unprecedented and frequently the reason for gasps of awestruck wonder. There is an abundance of friendly, outgoing and compassionate neighbors, ready to help a stranger feel welcome and cared for. There is industry, art, music and a deep love of land, country and family in the truest sense of the word. There are wondrous experiences that wait around every turn; cultures and foods from around the world as well as those that are as American as the proverbial apple pie and watermelon at a neighborhood BBQ. And yes, there are lots and lots of queer people to live and play with. I'll be happily at home.

Arkansas is going to be home and for a while, home is going to be on six and a half beautifully wooded acres on Beaver Lake in Rogers, where my best friend in the whole, wide world lives. She has lovingly and generously offered to share her place to me for as long as need be to get settled, so I will be joining hearth and table with Sarah, her five cats and her one very irrepressible dog, Sybil. Well, it's my understanding that apparently Sybil is "my" dog when she's bad, and Sarah's dog when she's being good!

The impending move means a lot of work for me as I can only take what will fit into my small Jetta sedan. Well, it does have a really big trunk and I can pack a lot into a small space. I've always been really good with spatial relationship puzzles and used to be the designated packer of my family's food that we hauled on vacation. Few boxes have any room left when I'm done with them! The stress of needing to sell things (to not only get rid of them but because I do need the money), letting go of unneccesary tchotchkes and otherwise purging a whole lot of stuff is immense some days. Other days I simply procrastinate and enjoy a good book. That's a lot more fun than pricing and sorting stuff for the Big Yard Sale on September 22nd!

So, I'm back here writing my blog and I will try not to be a stranger. Some of you have missed me; thanks. Some of you never realized I'd taken an unplanned hiatus, but that's OK! Stay tuned for more of what's on my mind...or another discourse on Arkansas with possibly a really politically-incorrect joke or two for accompaniment!

Sobriety and nocturnal habits

I stayed up last night until 6:00 a.m. to finish a book I was reading, and boy, did I pay the price all day in that I was pretty damn tired. I stayed up until it was light, the birds were hollering and the newspaper guy had already been around the neighborhood and tossed my plastic-wrapped paper into the cactus. He does that sometimes.

Obviously, it was a great book for me, but holy cow, I haven't stayed up all night long since before I quit drinking, which God willin' and the crik don't rise (and in Tucson, that's a pretty appropo quote right now during our Monsoon season), will be 19 years on August 5th. Given that now all of the creeks really are creeks and not the dried-up washes that they are during the rest of the year, I hope that's not an omen, because I plan on making this anniversary just like I've made every other one before it: one day at a time and with the help of people who've gone before me.

I'm stubborn. We all are, really, as humans, and we like to complicate things. "Simple" is a concept that just doesn't seem to set well with us; we've got to think and plot and re-think and work a situation until it keeps us up at night instead of trusting that all is as it should be, even if it feels like it's impossibly hard. We keep forgetting that we've always made it through whatever in our past was equally and even more difficult, and that hey, look, we're still here and hanging in there.

In fact, we're stronger than we were and have learned more, if we've been paying attention, that is. But some of us (and we alcoholics are great at this, no matter how much recovery time we might have under our proverbial belts) just can't seem to grasp the "it's-really-OK" thing and get stuck in our all-too familiar worry rut.

I've been struggling lately with a number of situations that just seem to, well, I'll just say it: suck. Not very eloquent I'm afraid, but it sure gets the feeling across for me today! I've had a number of disappointments that have felt huge to me, and I'm constantly worrying about when I'm going to get another job as the money is dwindling fast. These things do keep me awake and as a result, I try to distract myself with books and hopping online to prowl the internet, write to friends and well, it is 1:12 in the morning and here I am, doing this blog.

I have been incredibly blessed with what my sobriety has given me. My life is unquestionably better. I do know peace and do feel serene, even if not all of the time. I probably need to go to more meetings, and that's a fact, since I'm still stuck on some things. They help me have a better attitude and allow me to release stressors, those really annoying buggers that have been keeping me up at night. I've been going to AA since August 5th, 1988. I never in a million years thought I'd quit drinking much less actually be sober for so long.

But it's really just one day at a time (yeah, I know it's a cliche, but that's where bumper stickers come from and I love those, so hey, that's me). I need to keep in mind that all I ever will have is the day I'm presently in, the moment I'm currently living through. I can't make the future better right this minute and I can't go back and change anything in the past; I can only be in the present.

So, that said, it's time to get off of here and hit the sack. I really loved that book, "Good In Bed" (by Jennifer Weiner, whose second book, "In Her Shoes," was made into a great movie of the same name starring one of my alltime favorite actresses, Toni Colette). I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that I just had to finish it, I had to keep turning those pages. I get a certain bibliophile's high when a book grabs me that hard and keeps me absorbed to that extent.

And sure, I loved the distraction from my head full of concerns, but you know what? If it made me realize how amazing it is to have this sobriety in such a roundabout way, well then, it was completely worth being exhausted today. I never want to forget or take my sobriety for granted, but I'm human and sure enough, taking things for granted is what we humans tend do so well.

I'm thinking I need to get to the library for that other book. But not tonight. Tonight I'll hit the light and drop off to sleep comforted by my awareness of the sober day that I had. Hmm, life is good.

Thank you for the music!

When I was in second grade, I lived in Florida, and on certain Summer nights after dinner, my folks and I would ride our bikes around the neighborhood, pedaling through the cooling air and sharing in some family time. I don't have a direct recollection of my Dad on a bike, but hey, Mom says he rode one so I've gotta believe her.

One of my favorite places we'd ride by was the local high school, where we could hear the community band practicing since they'd leave the doors and windows open for the air. I've loved music since birth and this experience is my earliest active memory of it. We would stop, hop off the bikes and sit on the grass, listening to the band play. I was in heaven. I can recall just how the grass felt on my bare legs and the smell of the night air, heavy with tropical, warm aromas and the promise of yet another day full of childhood joys to follow the next morning.

The band, being a band and not an orchestra, played a lot of Sousa marches and of course, the trumpets were always so prominent that I couldn't help but fall in love with the loud, brassy and bright excitement they produced for me. This was what I wanted to play, yes, the wonderful and magical trumpet!

And lo and behold, my parents let me play that trumpet. I'm sure I didn't produce the most dulcet of tones at that point, but they indeed let me toot and honk and do my 7-year old best. I was so happy - this was my soul getting to shout and dance, the heavy weight of the instrument telling me that I could do it, even if no other girls were. This was telling me that I could be a great musician, that I could be strong enough to keep going and be famous (like a lot of kids, that was my dream, to be rich and famous)!

I no longer need or necessarily want to be famous, but I do need to play that horn as well as any other instrument I can get my hands on, including most especially my voice. Music is my soul's expression, my passion, what makes me soar with joy, feeling as if my feet hover above the ground as I'm doing it. Making music with others is even more incredible for me, sharing the magic of creating beautiful sound together, knowing that this is happening right in this moment and is wonderful just as it is. Sometimes, I think I'll burst from happiness when I'm singing harmonies or playing along with others, for the love fills me to overflowing.

I've known ever since I was a small child that music made me happy, made me soar, made me feel full of love. I didn't know how to express it, so I just played, and later, when I discovered my voice, sang. It's my panacea, my comfort, my excitement and my serenity. I can think of nothing I'd rather do in this world than create music; there's never a time when it doesn't fill me with incredible joy.

It is everything to me.

I feel so grateful for the ability to make music in so many different ways. I feel as if it's a gift from the Universe to myself, and if others enjoy it, too, well, that's just mocha icing on a dark chocolate cake (and y'all know how I feel about chocolate)!

Last night I was once again privileged to play with an amazing musician, Namoli Brennet (www.namolibrennet.com), and once again, I was transported to that place of incredible, nearly indescribable joy that only making music with another person can produce. It's a high like no other, and I will continue to seek that high every day until it's time to spend my last breath here.

To quote a favorite group of mine, that famous Swedish pop quartet who made unique and creative fashion statements while holding the nation captive with their infectious songs, "Thank you for the music...for giving it to me."

So I went for the lollipop and...

OK, OK, I know, two posts in one day, but THIS is too exciting to pass up sharing with you: I'd gone to the Dollar Tree to get a couple of lollipops to celebrate National Lollipop Day, and as I was perusing the candy aisle I discovered a new-to-me candy bar. It's absolutely one of the best bars I've ever put in my mouth, and as someone who's indulged in more than my fair share (and yours, too, most likely), this is a big, delicious deal! So what did I find, you ask, that would get me this excited?

Triple Chocolate Twix.

Triple...Chocolate...(sigh)...Twix.

Crispy, crunchy chocolate cookie layered over with smooth and decadent chocolate caramel (a particular weakness), covered in that thick, yummy Twix milk chocolate. It's chewy, crunchy, smooth, sweet and yes, pretty damn chocolatey, but not overly so in my humble opinion. Did I say delicious? Oh yeah, baby, this is one hunka chewy chocolate, caramel, cookie fabulousity (that is so a word 'cause I just used it).

It's a slightly chewier bar than the regular Twix, and I would imagine that's the chocolate caramel at work. Though predominantly a milk chocolate candy bar, I think that even dark chocolate lovers will find that this hits a special spot. Well, that's a guess on my part, but I am one of those folks who's particularly fond of dark chocolate, and obviously this did it for me!

I wish I had a camera so I could show you how luscious this is, but even so, it tastes even better than it looks. Well, maybe that's 'cause I didn't exactly examine the thing before I snarfed the first of the two bars down. I even might have been moaning slightly in chocolate candy ecstasy. I hope the mom and kids behind me in line at the Dollar Tree didn't think I was dangerous (just keep the kids away from my candy, lady, and nobody gets hurt).

Visualize, if you will, the familiar looking double-barred Twix: that long, chocolate-covered bar, broken open to reveal a darkly chocolate, crispy cookie base, incredibly smooth and rich, creamy, oozy chocolate caramel in a thick layer on top of the cookie, and then the thick coating of that Twix milk chocolate encasing the whole thing. Yeah, baby, all for you and laying right there in your hot little hands. Open up. Bite down and savor it as you chew...mmmmm...are ya with me?

God, I wonder if The Dollar Tree is still open...I need to go back and buy all they have; it's a "Limited Time Only" candy bar!

Boy, go for one measly lollipop and get hit by the Mack truck of candy bar love...

It's National Lollipop Day!

I didn't know that today was National Lollipop Day, did you? I feel like I should know these things as an admitted candy addict. Wow, I guess I'm outta practice. So thankfully, my favorite candy website, the afore-mentioned Candy Addict (www.candyaddict.com or you can just link to it via my list of "Places I Like To Drop In On Daily" to the right and below), keeps me updated on all things candy and therefore, the fact that today, July 20th, is National Lollipop Day.

You can read a lot more interesting factoids about lollipops over there at Candy Addict, and I highly recommend that you do, and today I did indeed learn some cool stuff, but I'll only share one with you as I believe the folks at Candy Addict really deserve to be seen and read.

Have you ever had a Dum-Dum? That small, round, white paper-wrapped little lollipop that you can usually find in bowls at your local banks? I'm sure most of us have; after all, they've been around for a large chunk of our lives. If so, you are well aware of the Mystery Flavor, and it was those secret "mystery" indgredients that always called to me. What was I going to taste? What color would it be? With Pineapple or Pink Lemonade (a newer, hipper flavor), I knew exactly what I was gonna get, but with Mystery? Not a clue and that, my friends, is what has pretty much guaranteed that I'll always dig around in a bag or a bowl full of Dum-Dums to find the magical Mystery flavor and unwrap my taste adventure right there.

I never could figure out what the hell flavor I got, though, but it was always fun.

Now I know the reason why I could never pinpoint what I had going on in my mouth with a Mystery pop: the flavor is a combination of two different ones! Well, shoot, that explains everything. It seems that the cost of stopping the machine, cleaning it out and switching to another flavor isn't productive, so they simply dump a new flavor in on top of a small amount of the remaining flavor and for the next 20 minutes or so, the flavor coming out of the Dum-Dum lollipop machine is what gets labeled as "Mystery."

Who knew? Well, apparently the people at Candy Addict, for one, and I'm glad they shared. I love learning odd trivia about food, and given that I do love the sweet stuff, about candy, especially. If I had TV, I'd be glued to the Food Network, 24/7, I swear. I once spent an entire day watching FoodTV because they were doing a marathon of a delightful and exploratory show called "Unwrapped," all about what secrets and inner workings take place with different food products. I was completely hooked. And they did a number of shows on candy! Whoo-hoo!

I was housesitting and therefore alone in my obsession save for the disdainful looks I kept getting from the cat, but then again, cats tend to look like that, anyway. Hey, I was happy and the cat had food in her bowl, so pardon me, Ms. Kitty.

So to celebrate National Lollipop Day, why don't you go and grab yourself a sucker? Child or adult, we all love 'em, and it doesn't matter which brand, or even if you've never tried that kind before, just go for it and savor the flavor, texture and the experience of one of the oldest candies in our culture, the lollipop!

OK, if you'll excuse me now, I need to go troll the candy aisles at The Dollar Tree and Food City (the Mexican grocery stores here in Tucson). I think I hear a Jolly Rancher Tamarindo or Mango pop calling my name. Sweet, sour and spicy all on one stick...what's not to love?

Resentment or gratitude, my choice

"Vacation, all I ever wanted...Vacation, had to get away..."

That lyric is from the Go-Go's song, "Vacation," and exactly what I'd love to be doing right now, going on vacation. Actually, that's what I was supposed to be doing at this precise moment, but that trip was cancelled suddenly, so I'm struggling with that noxious attitude smacker, resentment, which has arisen from being really disappointed.

Sigh. Being human is just so uncomfortable sometimes, ya know?

I was really looking forward to this holiday: a trip up to the Grand Canyon, then a day and night in Sedona on the way back down, returning on Saturday. And to make it even better, it was all being paid for by a friend as an early birthday present, and with me being unemployed, that was a wonderful gift, indeed! If all had gone as planned, I'd be in Phoenix right now, tucking in for the night as we were to leave early tomorrow morning for the drive up, about a 6-hour trip, possibly just a bit longer as we were headed to the North Rim, the lesser-visited area of the canyon.

This has been planned for months, and I'd been researching the history and stories of the areas, looking at gorgeous pictures and exitedly planning my part in the adventure, leaving plenty of room for my love of spontaneous decisions and unplanned surprises. This was something I'd wanted to see since I was a kid.

So out of the blue, the friend cancelled the trip and I got mad. I feel like whining, "But I wanted to go to the Grand Canyon, dammit!" Not very adult of me, but jeez, it's too hard to not have expectations and therefore not be disappointed. I am disappointed! I really wanted to go and see something I've wanted to see all my life as well as get away. Being unemployed hasn't been easy, and I've gone through a few job disappointments, too, so this was like not just losing out on the last piece of chocolate cake, but being told there weren't going to be any more chocolate cakes ever again (yes, I can be a drama queen, especially when it comes to chocolate).

Well, those disappoinments in life just serve to remind me that I'm human and what I do have to be grateful for right NOW is what I need to be focusing on, not something that hasn't happened yet nor may ever. Being disappointed is normal and yeah, it feels crappy. I need to remember to be thankful for the roof over my head (whose leaks were fixed this morning), the food in my kitchen (which is healthy and fresh and nourishing even if I'd rather have chocolate cake), the car that drives just fine (even without the air conditioner, and in fact, now gets much better gas mileage), the unemployment check that comes every week (though it's small, it's enough for now if I'm frugal) and the love of family and friends.

Disappointment can stick in my craw like tar and be a kind of poison for my attitude or it can dissipate with my reviewing what I do have today for which I am very grateful. I tell you what, if you've never done a gratitude list, give it a try and see if you don't feel better after you've written it. It works every time!

OK, now that I've chilled out about the trip and realized what I'm grateful for right this minute, I think it's time to crawl into that wonderful bed I love to relax in and read another few chapters before I hit the light.

Gratitude and awareness are gifts that are always right there if I want them. It's indeed my choice, every time. So I'm exercising my choice to feel better and will catch up with you another day.

I think I need a mug of peppermint tea to go with that book now...

Top 10 Reasons to Love Summer in Tucson!

Ahhh, Summer in Tucson...the sun, the heat, the electric bill, the...ummm...the heat.

Now, most folks that live here have found ways to deal with the heat, and those that haven't, well, they're called "snowbirds," and they book outta here as soon as the thermometer reads anything over 90 degrees. Or, they've got a ton of money and can afford to live atop the 9,000 foot summit of Mt. Lemmon in a tiny hamlet called, appropriately enough, Summerhaven.

I've decided to approach Summer In Tucson with a more positive attitude and have found there are some good reasons to embrace it. Herewith, my own personal statistics: official, honest and a true representational poll of, ahem, me.

So, here they are, my Top 10 Reasons To Love Summer In Tucson:

10. You never have to waste energy by using the "hot" or even "warm" settings on your washing machine. Selecting "cold" just gets you warm water, anyway, no matter what time of day or night it is, so hey, save money and save the planet by saving energy! No need to buy those expensive twisty light bulbs to save a few bucks.

9. As Wendy Layton says, "Feast's BBQ brisket!" Yes, folks, this is a sublime, smoky, tender and amazing beef bonanza, sure to create an addiction in even a quasi-vegetarian (you know who you are: love your veggies and tempeh, but crave the meat every now and then). I tasted, I drooled, I ate. All of it. Oh. My. God. She's right, being away from Tucson in the summer means no brisket and that, folks, is very sad indeed. Haven't been to Feast and tried it yet, you say? Well, go. Just go. 4122 E. Speedway, http://www.eatatfeast.com/.

Why haven't you left yet? You can read the rest of this later...

8. No need to heat up your kitchen with that darn stove or oven. Yes, you too can cook in your car! Just consider it your own personal (and very large) Crockpot. A slow cooker deluxe. Put your baking dishes on the dash, cover with plastic wrap or foil and go to work, the pool, Mt. Lemmon (in someone else's car, yours needs to stay put), or trolling for a side dish on aisle 12. If the folks at the UA (University of Arizona for the out of town readership) can do it, so can you. Wow, just think, no need to take your date out to a restaurant and then hope to get them in the backseat later on...just have the whole date right there in the parking lot, dinner to ahem, dessert!

7. Sexy summer hair is but 5 minutes away! Slather on the gel, mousse or other preferred hair product, hop in the car, crank open all the windows and drive up and down the street for 5 minutes. You'll be done and have that sexy, windblown, just-got-back-from-the-beach or just-got-out-of-bed look that celebrities pay $200 for. Same principle works on your laundry, but don't try to drive with a pair of 501's hanging out the window, that's just tacky. Think about your image.

6. Less people in town means less traffic means more ability to drive faster means better hair drying opportunities.

5. Need a hot shower but just don't wanna spend more on your electric bill by running that darn hot water heater? Simple, just turn on the cold water handle and soak it up. Like #10 up there regarding the washing machine, the cold water available right now, well, isn't. Maybe after hanging in there for about 15 minutes you might get some cool water, but cold? Not gonna happen, so just accept it and if you must have something cooler than tepid, dump a bunch of bags of ice from Circle K into a kiddie pool and get in quick before it melts!

4. The heat shimmer coming off the roads makes for a lovely and ethereal effect, which in turn creates peacefulness as you're traveling about in the heat, thereby keeping you cool as you commune with your inner guru and meditate on the meaning of life, now encased in a gauzy, wavy and shimmery opaqueness. Either that or the heat's getting you all dopey and you should really consider pulling over and drinking some water.

3. Restaurants offer cheap food deals! So many people book outta here and it's so hot that most folks just ain't gonna leave their air conditioned houses, so eating establishments need your patronage. They've gotta give their wait staff something to do besides fill those condiment bottles with the cheap ketchup they buy in those 10-gallon cans from China. So to avoid driving to your favorite restaurant only to find that they've gone on vacation as so many do, keep 'em cookin' and go out to eat while it's "Summer Deal Time!" Lots of places offer $20 For Two meal deals and stuff like that, so chow down for cheap while you can. The masses will be returning in late September and you'll never get a seat.

2. Your family and friends do not come to visit you. Who decides to spend their annual 2 weeks of vacation in the oven-baked desert when they could go to upstate New York or Six Flags over Iceland? And if one of Aunt Betty's cousins shoots you an email saying, "Hey cuz, we're coming to Tucson and staying with you!" you can simply hit reply and say, "Well, shoot, the air conditioning just broke and we can't afford to get it fixed...oh, and didn't we tell you that it's been 108 degrees for 6 weeks now and doesn't cool off until October?" No visitors will be knocking on your door, I practically guarantee it.

1. And my personal #1 reason to love Summer in Tucson? Mexican Ice Cream! Mango, Tamarindo, Coconut, Dulce de Leche, Guava...need I go on? I love ice cream any time of the year, but it's a million times better when it's so hot out that you literally need a hot pad to open your front door at lunchtime (well, I do). Other parts of the country don't have all the Mexican stuff in their grocery stores like we do, so this is the time to really go for the frozen gold and scoop up bowls full of the creamy, cold and delicious flavors of Mexico to be savored in your little air-conditioned adobe abode (oooh, alliteration - cool). So, you'll excuse me now while I head over to the kitchen and indulge.

Stay cool, everyone, and remember, Summer in Tucson = savings, relaxation, serenity and great eating!

Oh, sugar...ah, honey, honey...you are my candy girl

I know I've already admitted my addiction to Youtube, and it's true, but that's been a more recent discovery. I have a much larger and more serious problem to admit today, one that's been with me for as long as I can remember. Yes, folks, my name is still Julie and, well, whew, OK, here goes nothin': I'm a candy addict. Seriously sugaring up works for me on so many levels...mmmm.

Sigh.

I've been hooked on the sweet stuff since I was but a wee lass. (Good God, where on earth did that Scottish thing come from? It's not like I was indulging in a tin of treacle or listening to Sean Connery or anything). But really, even when I was just barely up and walking, Mom tells me I was dipping into the candied ginger jar which, for some reason, was at motorvatin'-baby height right on the living room coffee table. (Why it wasn't in the kitchen, especially given that my mom loves the stuff and both cooks with it and eats it, is beyond me).

I ate a lot of it, apparently, which surprised the folks since it's a bit spicy for a mere babe. I still love the stuff and hey, it's great for indigestion and nausea, so next time you're hittin' the cruise ships, bring along a ziploc filled with the crytallized root and stay happy on the high seas!

But I digress.

I love candy, I do, and it matters not what kind (though I have drawn the line at candied bugs...so far). I don't care if it's milk chocolate or dark, loaded with all kinds of nuts and fruit and stuff or just plain. Hard, soft, chewy, silky, sour, creamy, crunchy, powdered, slurpy...you get the idea. I will want it all. It can come from any country, any region, any little remote hamlet or big city. Fruits and vegetables be damned, I love to explore ethnic stores for their candy and will try anything as long as it's not the aforementioned bugs, though I'm sure one day I will indeed pop a few candied crawlies to see if I like 'em or not.

I have found candy heaven in a few candy addict websites, in fact, one is actually called "Candy Addict," so of course I found that one first (www.candyaddict.com). Another fun one is www.typetive.com/candyblog for thorough reviews of all things candy. A recent fun article on Candyaddict.com was the "10 Grossest Candies Ever," with the top grossest being Candy Lick'em Scabs. See, they look like scabs and come in a bandaid-type device that you stick on your body somewhere, preferably within range of your mouth, opening the "wound area" to lick the candy, then closing the "wound area" so as to save your scab for later lickage. They said the candy actually tasted pretty good, so it didn't sound so gross to me! See? I'm a total addict.

Wanna know how the new Reese's Elvis Peanut Butter and Banana cups look and taste? Care to examine the intricacies of Dark Chocolate Three Musketeers Mint? Pining for a look-see into the workings of some odd sugar treat from Indonesia, complete with texture analysis and a rating scale? Or maybe you're wanting to stay current with the latest in candied marketing successes, odd newsmakers or just what the kids are chowing down on these days. Well then, get yourself over to one of these sites and immerse yourself in what you might agree could be your own personal version of heaven, too.

I have come to realize that the only thing better would be to actually get to taste all these babies they write about, so seeing as how I've been unemployed for 2 months, I think I've finally found the job for me. Who do I get in touch with to start the sucrose-laden deliveries?

I don't have to give anything back, do I?

It's not just the heat...

Maybe it's my age (I'll be 50 come October 25th, a birthday I've been looking forward to for most of my life), or maybe it's the heat here in Tucson or hell, it could be those dang hormonal power surges and subsequent chocolate obsessions. Or that too many people care more about Paris Hilton than Darfur's atrocities. Possibly it's the fact that I can't buy my favorite bra anymore. Maybe it's just a combination of all of those things, but dammit, I'm severely irked and sick and tired of POLITICS!

Wait, let me be a bit more clear: I'm sick and tired of Bush, Cheney, secrets, power, complete disregard for the law, coverups and just plain old bullshit. Yup, bullshit. It goes way beyon this stupid, godawful war. All that crap coming out of Washington just makes me so damn mad! Lots has bothered me for awhile, but for some reason (my crap-o-meter reached capacity?), the last straw for me was Bush's using his executive "privilege" in both commuting Scooter Libby's sentence and his refusal to allow certain information to be made available to the public, which we have every right to know.

That arrogant, idiotic and ignorant piece of, well, poop, that our country managed to get stuck with - again, thanks to the subterfuge and BS of POLITICS and EGO - just finally made me mad enough to rant in a blog (the ultimate action lately, other than posting a video rant on that addiction of mine, Youtube). Let's just tell it like it is, America: rich white men always get what they want and don't care who gets squashed in the process. Can you say "our incredibly crappy insurance system?" Sure you can, go ahead. Canada can't hear you, but Michael Moore can.

And I'm just not even gonna talk about Cheney's crap 'cause I might have a small coronary moment and I've been one of our great "most powerful country on Earth's" uninsured for 3 months now, so couldn't afford to get treated which means they wouldn't, thanks to insurance greed which is directly related to, what am I harping on today? Oh yeah, POLITICAL CRAP!

Naw, the ER'd give me some aspirin (bought through WalMart, no doubt, since their sticky fingers are in all the baked goods), charge me $12 each and tell me to eat lots of veggies and exercise something besides my brain.

But the veggies probably have bacteria on 'em and I'd get some kind of poisonous disease and die, anyway, so hell, I'm sticking with dark chocolate raspberry Godivas. I love broccoli, but let's get real: what perio-menopausal, hot-flashin', unemployed and pissed off woman picks broccoli over chocolate? Yeah, I didn't think you'd come up with an answer, either.


So, I've come to realize why my parents were always up in arms about whatever political stuff was going on in their day, and now I'm the one ranting about it instead of being youthfully selfish, ignorant and heading out the door for whatever night of debauchery I had planned for myself. I understand why people refuse to vote, saying that it makes no difference, anyway, so why bother.

Well, I'm gonna keep bothering, but I just can't stand to wait to vote to get rid of Bush. He needs to be gone. Now.

Let's plan our impeachment party. It's a candy potluck of course, so what're you bringing? (Check out this blog for all things candy: www.typetive.com/candyblog). I'm bringing the aforementioned Godiva and some Lemonheads, so pucker up, America, and get crackin'.