Sunday, February 24, 2013

By The Time I Get To Phoenix

I love baseball.

I was sitting around vaguely wondering what was peeling my Meyer's lemons at the top of my lemon tree in the backyard.

These lemons are peeled but left perfectly intact.  So what (or who) is peeling them, leaving them on the tree intact except for their peels.  Now I like a vodka tonic once in a while, and a little slice of lemon peel adds a bit of panache to that sort of thing, but frankly I'm more of a gin girl. 

I've wondered about rats, raccoons, opossums, even hummingbirds or bats.  The peels are perfectly removed.  It's even made me think about aliens with a vodka tonic penchant. 

After looking at about 10 perfectly peeled lemons, I came back in the house and did what I always do to calm my mind.  I went on Facebook.  I saw that a friend, Barbara, had left a fascinating message for me.  Barbara is a very interesting girl who has done so many things in her life that I can't even imagine.  She moved to Tanzania in Africa for heaven's sake.  Her blog is pretty amazing (Tanzania 5.0). 

Barbara indicated that she and Ann Currie (a Southern woman with a sly wit and a talent for fabulous photography) were meeting in Phoenix next week to have dinner and she asked if I wanted to join them.  Ann's blog is My Life, a Bit South of Normal, and she has kept me coming back for ages because she's amazingly funny and a bit quirky too.

In any case, I went in and told my husband Alex that I was flying to Phoenix and meeting the girls for dinner on Wednesday.  He was slightly surprised, seeing as I don't leave the house for months at a time.  (Okay, I exaggerate.)  But still, I very seldom leave him for an overnighter.  Alex asked me if I wanted to use his SW Airlines points and I said yes.  He had turned that strange shade of yellow green when I mentioned that I might catch a San Francisco Giants Spring Training game.  (Jealousy is an ugly emotion on anybody.)

Never mind.  We're both going. 

Problem solved.

Now what in the hell is peeling my lemons?