shared frustration

MS,
I tried SEVENTEEN TIMES to post this message on your blog and I have now given up.
That word identification puzzle defeated both Jim and me this morning.

 Here it is:

I love the photo of the Mexican workers in their big sombreros.  Good timing;
tomorrow is Labor Day here.  It's a puente weekend, a bridge over several days
of holiday in celebration of the occasion.

This was my morning email from my friend Susan, who is also widely known as
The Fevered Brain. I so appreciate all comments to my blog and I too suffer
trying to figure out those pesky non-words that we are now forced to type before
we can comment. Most bloggers live for comments and learn from them, too.
Susan and her Mr. C. are busy packing up, leaving their home in Mexico so
they can return to Sacramento and I'm glad she took a moment to write. I did
send an email to Blogspot about this issue and so far no answer, no change.


You can read Susan's glorious and colorful blog under The All of It.
Many of you already follow her. See you soon, Fevered Brain, and 
travel with care, as always.

an art-filled day

 New Hopper painting "Intermission" at SFMoma

 Photography in Mexico ~ "Workers' Parade" by Tina Modetti

Open Studio at Hunters Point Shipyard

First to SFMoma because it had been too long ~ lots to see after a

coffee in the sun on the 5th floor patio. There is a very special room

with the new Hopper, Diebenkorn, Thiebaud etc., so don't miss that.

I hope my friend with the Fevered Brain comes to the Mexico

photo exhibit, it closes July 8th. Photos from the 1920's through the new

urban and suburban movements of today. Fascinating!

Our neighbor has a studio out at Hunters Point Shipyard, a bleak

reminder of World War II. There are 300 artists renting small

studios in this forgotten area of SF. It's right on the bay and features

lots of green grass, wildflowers, hundreds of birds and just that

feeling of creativity and community that we all need so often

Open Studio continues today, if you have some free time. Just

head out Evans Street until you hit the end of the world.

baseball gets even better

RR is a Livewire! Our favorite 8 year old has joined a team and her
first game is June 2nd down in Pumpkinville. I have requested the day
off, of course, because to watch some girls softball will be quite
wonderful. Her big sister Claire has been such a huge and positive
influence on Ryan, she is a pitcher and teaches girls softball down in
SoCal. I read her fine blog everyday and you can too!

a public bathroom?

I posted this photo on the Borders #57 alumni Facebook page this
morning because we had so many, many horrid problems with the
bathrooms there at the Big Box. You do not want details...

These fresh flowers were at the Legion of Honor women's bathroom
yesterday. There are always flowers in both restrooms (deYoung and
Legion of Honor) and sometimes they are outstandingly gorgeous,
so I needed to remember the fact that if I must work, there aren't
many places with as many attractive amenities. Volunteers create
these arrangements and no, I don't think the men's restrooms feature
flowers. Well, I've asked men and they say, "I don't think so."

Lots of fun comments on the Facebook page such as, "they don't
chain these down?"

Guy goes to Dublin

Yesterday Husbando and I did the BART to Pleasanton ride and Ginger
picked us up at the train station. It's always good to get out of the City
for a spell to remember how others live ~ malls, etc. We are fans of
Guy Fieri of the food network and he owns this Johnny Garlic's
restaurant in Dublin. It was great fun and delicious food ~ I had the
burger, of course. Actually Ginger and I split one, so it wasn't too
damaging. Good caesar salad, lovely garlic fries and very friendly
service. Our wait person (ahem) said that Guy had been there a couple
of weeks ago and that he is just like he is on TV.

After lunch we poked around Ginger's community garden and she
is about ready to do her spring planting. Smooth ride back home ~
a delightful outing thanks to Guy and Ginger.

poetry from our Jane

Now famous photo by Phil McGrew of the 4/12/12 storm

(our last Tiapos meeting occurred during the Great SF storm. Jane wrote

this fabulous Pantoum the next morning ~ too wonderful!)

The Thunderstorm

A thunderstorm raged last night, and even at our age we were stunned by its utter passion.

Everyone in our writing group exclaimed; the reader had to stop, pause, and then start over.

Thunder and lightning, so what? It's nothing but old hat for us, the over-fifty crowd, and yet

We were stirred to silence as we waited, all abuzz and thrilled, for the next deafening bolt.

Everyone in our writing group exclaimed, and the reader had to stop, pause, and then start over.

Her character, Margaret, had been trotting her greyhound around the block while smoking a cigarette.

We were stirred to silence as we waited, all abuzz and thrilled, for the next deafening bolt.

Car alarms throughout the city went crazy, an unsyncopated cacophony, a wacky symphony.

Her character, Margaret, had been trotting her greyhound around the block while smoking a cigarette.

We were enthralled with Margaret, something about her made us smile and smirk and long for more.

Car alarms throughout the city went crazy, an unsyncopated cacophony, a wacky symphony.

Ah, that Margaret, she was definitely an eccentric as well as a rebel; we reveled in her kookiness.

We were enthralled with Margaret, something about her made us smile and smirk and long for more.

Sheets of electricity lit up the sky, thunder shook the house, we responded in astonishment.

Ah, that Margaret, she was definitely an eccentric as well as a rebel; we reveled in her kookiness.

But what was the big deal? We've all had our share of thunderstorms and greyhound-walking Margarets.

Sheets of electricity lit up the sky, thunder shook the house, we responded in astonishment.

Thunder and lightning, so what? It's nothing but old hat for us, the over-the-hill crowd.

What was the big deal? We've all had our share of thunderstorms and greyhound-walking Margarets.

A thunderstorm raged last night, and even at our age we were stunned by its utter passion.

 

- Jane Underwood

04/25/12  

speaking of poetry

Marylou walks around her block with a greyhound and a cigarette

There's a woman in our neighborhood who
walks a greyhound dog, but I have never seen
her smoke and I don't think her name is
Marylou, but occasionally we smile at each other.
And that's enough for neighbors, don't you agree?

One day another neighbor Ben, who walks a little
fluffy dog named Lucky, was in his big green pick-up
truck and he saw this woman who is not named Marylou
walking her greyhound and he backed up his truck all the
way down the block. And fast, like he was being chased.

Later my husband asked him why he did that and Ben
said he was avoiding Marylou because recently he helped
another neighbor plant a tree on our little hill here as a
memorial to the man's wife and the woman with the greyhound
and no cigarette complained that the tree blocked her view.

Yin and yang, the good and the bad in our neighborhood. Ben
helping a grieving widower feel better and Marylou worrying
about her precious view. The green truck going backwards
and the woman and her greyhound trudging up the hill. Small
town living in the Big City ~ the best of both worlds.

(This was a Round Robin prompt which prompted me to write
this poem ~ I presented it to my writing group and some said
to change the ending, which I have not done yet.)

monday's meows

 Cubby in the s-t-r-e-t-c-h

 Madeline is amazingly sweet

Tahoe wants to go to a real home...

I'm settling right into this cat world and I do need to report that

Stokely moved down a notch and allowed me to pet him a bit.

Puppy Chuck is fine and waiting for Linda and Tom to adopt his

hefty self. There were a lot of adoptions over the weekend (maybe

15 or so?) and just like in retail they move the merchandise around

so the older cats get maximum exposure. "Fifo," said Husbando

(First In, First Out) with appreciation. I couldn't find Monty, so 

I hope he has a comfy new home. Believe me, the SPCA is

totally devoted to the cats and dogs and I'm continually impressed.

Looking back over my working life, I wish all my Monday mornings

could have been so pleasant. Oh well, that's why they called it WORK.

And now a nice long baseball afternoon with the occasional text to/fro

the Blogmaid.  Timmy has returned, thankfully!

 

a day in the nabe

 A car to be proud of...

We are having summer here in Frisco and I walked up to 24th
Street to see all the people with their kids, dogs and this man
in the crosswalk had a big, white bird. I was sitting outside the
Bux with my latte and morning bun and thinking that it just does not
get much better than this. There was a parade (ACLU) on the walk
back home and this car with the funny wheels was part of it.

Came home for lunch on the deck, some baseball, a little
cooking and lots of reading.  Excellent Saturday!

please, I'm reading

My friend Susan over there (The All of It blog) in Mexico
recommended this book that takes place in London. It's one
of those page-turners that would be ideal for the Kindle because
there aren't too many characters and it is so plot driven that you
don't have to worry about missing any glorious phrases or ex-
ceptionally well-written words. Before I Go To Sleep is the
story of a woman with amnesia and honestly, every single page
is suspenseful. It's what we used to call "beach reading" and
I too recommend it whole heartedly. Brilliant and creepy and
I am now about half way through ~ thanks, Fevered Brain!

Mr. Clooney looks pudgy

Hmmmmm, Blogspot is acting like Facebook this morning, but I'll
just do my best despite surprising changes. Computer programmers
have never heard of the old "if it ain't broke..." rule, it appears.

So The Descendants, now on DVD. We both enjoyed it more than
we thought we would. George is not quite as gorgeous, and he is in
the unenviable position of raising two rebellious daughters alone.
It's like a Hawaiian travelogue and the music is so great because
it sounds authentically native, not the usual "Tiny Bubbles" kind of
Aloha (Oy) music. Yes, you will want to rent this one.

Back to the Islamic Chinese food ~ honestly it didn't taste all that
different than most Chinese restaurants, but we probably didn't
order the right specialties. The Mission Chinese Food place is much
better in my most humble opinion.

you said "Islamic?"

I heard some local chefs talking on the radio about their favorite
little hang-out spots and they love the Old Mandarin Islamic
Restaurant out around 42nd Ave. on Vicente. So we tried it for
lunch yesterday, and it's a thumbs up. Only 8 tables, no pork, no
credit cards, lots of lamb and huge servings. We stuck to noodle
dishes and brought home enough for a few more meals.

seeking spontaneity

Approaching Crissy from the Marina

Long boots drying upside down

One artist's rock sculpture ~ SF is in the background

From time to time I whine about the fact that everything Husbando
and I do is planned to the Nth degree. Mostly that's a good thing,
but yesterday was a spur of the moment invitation from Ginger to
meet her at Crissy Field for a walk, talk, lattes, etc. I decided to take
the #22 Fillmore which goes down to Bay St. and that worked out
perfectly and gave me a chance to read and people watch. After
our two (ahem) lattes and long walk, I rode back on the #30 Stockton
bus with her. What a blast ~ it goes through North Beach and
Chinatown, ending up around Market and Powell. School was letting
out and 45,000 school kids boarded early on and really, not one of
them paid as they entered through the back door. SF is considering
free Muni for kids and I see that it's already a fait accomplis, but
soon it will be an official policy. (And pardon my French.)

This morning's email from Ginger suggested that we do more Muni
explorations, selecting an interesting and different route each time.
I already keep notes on the bus lines and it will be nice to feel more
secure about what goes where. We'll avoid the school brats in the
future, as you have already guessed.

my purrrrrrr-fect Monday

Monty and I fell in love, completely.

Stokely is my challenge. If he doesn't come down from the

3rd tier, he will never be adopted.

I selected the 8 to 11am Monday shift and that was wise because
there were hardly any people. The SPCA is closed, so it was
just me and about 12 cats. Get ready for a lot of feline cliches, such
as today's title. I not only appreciate my fur time, I admire how
dedicated, organized and friendly this place is. Really, they have
a great volunteer computer program, good systems and tons of training.
I spend approximately 15 minutes with each cat, talking gently and
scratching their ears, if they let me. The ones who rush over to sit
in a lap get adopted first and right now is the beginning of kitten
season, so we need to move the older merchandise. As the retail
world turns...

rock around the clock

For the second time in less than a week, I was semi-dreading a play, this
one at ACT, and for the second time I was more than pleasantly surprised.
Maple and Vine is the story of a modern day couple who join a village
in the midwest (shocker) where everything is 1955. It gave us a lot to
think about and in fact I walked for an hour this morning and came to
the conclusion that modern day life is perfect for me. Not for everyone,
that's for sure, and the Great Plotnik has mentioned that it isn't as much
fun to travel now because every person is studying their iPad or iPhone
instead of talking to their fellow travelers, if you'll pardon the reference.

However I'm not very social and I love words, so being always hooked
up to a computer is just what I want. Unlike many, I'm able to be more
open with people using email than I ever was on the phone or even
face-to-face, in most cases. I do try to unplug at 6pm so that Husbando
and I can communicate, with the TV, of course.

The play doesn't come to any conclusions, which I think we all appreciated.
Life in 1955 was no bowl of cherries either, and it was really the beginning
of many of the social revolutions that still reverberate today. And, of all
things, the birth control pill was invented about that time.

a mess o' wires

My wireless router refused to function this morning and I had to
hit Best Buy for a new one. We've all come a long way here ~
first, me. I don't panic anymore and I know that somehow I can
do whatever needs to be done to feed my computer addiction.
Next, them. The instructions are easy to read and the many wires
now come in different colors. When something doesn't work I
actually go back and read the instructions again. The Blogmaid
often reminds me that women have conquered technology and
once again she is right. Now let's all double-click on a few icons
and celebrate this monumental achievement!

we shoulda been there

Congrats to Matt Cain and our Giants and all the fans who enjoyed
the best Home Opener ever, I believe. (Someone who studies stats said
that.) I worked out at the DY, wearing an old black and white horizontal
striped tee shirt for Gaultier and black/orange argyle socks with the
Giants logo for my team. It all worked and if it didn't, who cares?

My boss kept coming in with details and scores, so it was a fine day,
but it's so much more fun to be there and I was filled with happy
memories from days gone by. Maybe next year?

it's still poetry month!

The Mercy

The ship that took my mother to Ellis Island
eighty-three years ago was named "The Mercy."
She remembers trying to eat a banana
without first peeling it and seeing her first orange
in the hands of a young Scot, a seaman
who gave her a bite and wiped her mouth for her
with a red bandana and taught her the word,
"orange," saying it patiently over and over.
A long autumn voyage, the days darkening
with the black waters calming as night came on,
then nothing as far as her eyes could see and space
without limit rushing off to the corners
of creation. She prayed in Russian and Yiddish
to find her family in New York, prayers
unheard or misunderstood or perhaps ignored
by all the powers that swept the waves of darkness
before she woke, that kept "The Mercy" afloat
while smallpox raged among the passengers
and crew until the dead were buried at sea
with strange prayers in a tongue she could not fathom.
"The Mercy," I read on the yellowing pages of a book
I located in a windowless room of the library
on 42nd street, sat thirty-one days
offshore in quarantine before the passengers
disembarked. There a story ends. Other ships
arrived, "Tancred" out of Glasgow, "The Neptune"
registered as Danish, "Umberto IV,"
the list goes on for pages, November gives
way to winter, the sea pounds the alien shore.
Italian miners from Piemonte dig
under towns in western Pennsylvania
only to rediscover the same nightmare
they left at home. A nine-year-old girl travels
all night by train with one suitcase and an orange.
She learns that mercy is something you can eat
again and again while the juice spills over
your chin, you can wipe it away with the back
of your hands and you can never get enough.

-Philip Levine

fur appreciation day

After some soul searching, I have signed up to volunteer with the
SPCA and I will be socializing cats for 3 hours a week for a six
month period. Husbando and I have enjoyed five cats (and one
dog) during our long and perfect marriage, but he has begged me
"no more!" and I still need to be around them, so this seems like a
fine solution. I can walk to the SPCA and I am so very impressed
with the organization ~ their no-kill policy, how the humans are
crowded in small, dark offices and the cats and dogs have luxurious
quarters, how they go out into the community, not only for the
adoption program, but the vets give free shot clinics and medical
check-ups in sections of the city where there are no vets, and
on and on. And no tax dollars, it's all private donations!

Yesterday was training. The ins and outs of the place and what
color apron to wear, etc. Why you never pick up a cat (it's different
with kittens) and just the basics. My job will be (at this point) to
sit and talk to cats and get them ready for adoption. No one wants
a cat who doesn't seem interested in people, so let me scratch those
ears, Fluffy. Since I'm taking the 8am shift it seems logical to
next learn how to do the feeding, but that's another class for
the future. So far, so good...

funny, this life...

Neither of us was in the mood to drive in the rain way the hell
out to Fort Mason last night, but since we had the tix, we dragged
our asses and cheese sandwiches to the Magic to see Any Given
Day by Scottish playwright Linda McLean. We aren't fans of
obesity, nor mental illness, and yet this play was so much like any
given day ~ filled with anger, sorrow, joy and hope. It was "industry
night" and we saw a lot of actors whose names we couldn't remember
and some we were sure were famous SF stage people and who
probably weren't. In any event, it turned into an unforgettable
evening of theater and we agreed that we were smart and righteous
for being loyal customers because the play's the thing...

our guest blogger

( I asked Dale Bentson if I could use his piece and he said, "yes." He
is one of my all-time favorite Round Robin writing partners and I
know you'll love this one. Thank you sincerely, Dale!)

Recently downloaded Big Brother & Holding Company - Live at the Carousel Ballroom

1968, from iTunes. Of course it's nostalgia music, music from my generation, something

I easily identify with, hard rock, acid rock, thumping in your head forever rock, the Baby

Boomer plugged-in reaction to Frank Sinatra ballads, and that half generation in between

of spineless Frankie Avalon, Muscle Beach Party tripe.

This is music that singes the psyche, burns behind the eyes, crawls around the cranium

and causes involuntary responses that are hard to characterize. Makes me want to get

drunk on cheap gin, crank up the stereo, and let that tragically wonderful, supremely

gravely, über soulful, voice of Janis Joplin fill me, flow around and through me, pull

on my heartstrings, nudge my soul, make my head want to explode - and release

me from my contemporary self, my expressionless ancient identity, my diffidence,

my sixty plus year old society that I have grown too weary of.

I need to roll on the floor and howl, pin up psychedelic Day-Glo posters of Jimi

and Janice, The Airplane and The Dead, and install black lights all over my living

room. I want to wallow in the world's present-day tragedies but pretend that

someday everything will be all right once we're in charge. We'll make love baby,

not war, count on it. I don't want to bathe or shave or get a haircut. I need to locate

my hip-huggin' bell bottoms and bundle of reefer papers.

But Janis, oh Janis, sweet catastrophic Janis, on a countdown with death, a date

with an early destiny. I hear it in your voice. You showed us too much, too soon,

and there were no alternatives left, painted yourself into a corner at age twenty-seven,

fragile misfit, insecure outcast, with the lungs and lifestyle of an anti-Christ.

Janis, your voice, your unmistakable, irrepressible, raspy, coarse as tumbleweed,

voice, you don't serenade the ear, you splash cold water in the face. Wake me up,

shake me up, make me come alive inside again. You make my organs dance, more

free-tumble than with ballroom pattern or precision – a plasmic, psychedelic,

intoxicating wobble. It's easy to fall into a hard stupor while you blitzkrieg the senses;

Napoleon and Caesar would have been Silly Putty in your hands. You're a fast-forward,

slow motion act, we freeze while you continue at light speed. But your speed ends in

wreckage. We didn't realize your irresistible force was on a collision course with the

grimmest Army of the Dark - that immoveable force of your own cloistered hell.

Take me on this starry ride with you, for a little while, at least. Let me hear the blaring

triumph of your voice, your blue collar victory over everything establishment, including

rock and roll itself. Defy the world, defy Nature, defy the gods themselves. They'll get

you in the end, but oh the beauty of Comet Janis, blazing across the sky, scorching

heaven and earth. Just take me with you.

-Dale Bentson

our Easter morning walk

How can we not love our bridge? Here as seen from Land's End

This will be a gift shop, coffee spot and restrooms down here at the

end of Geary Street ~ all made possible by the National Park & Rec.
It will probably open in a month or so...

You can sit here and watch the ocean, admire Sutro Baths and

do some people watching too. Wait until the tourists arrive!

Sutro Baths with new trails to explore.

Honestly, is there any place prettier? I remarked to Husbando that
if we were visiting a foreign spot we'd head here first to take in the
glorious view. And yet we hardly ever get to Land's End, it's only
about 1/2 hour max from our home. They have worked on the trails
and when the new center opens this place will be packed. For now,
there is plenty of free (!) parking and we understand that one can
hike all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge. Really spectacular and
such a nice way to start our lazy Sunday filled with baseball, ham
and asparagus.

oh, happy Easter!

It's been probably 10 years since I've had Easter off and here we are
with a lovely, sunny morning and plans to go see what's happening
down at Land's End. Maybe some yard work, maybe I'll finish the 3rd
book of The Hunger Games, a little gardening perhaps, some baseball
(time for a W already!) and I need to walk and remember how exceedingly
lucky we are to live the good life, which indeed we do. And an Easter latte
will help as I wander down memory lane and look toward the future.

celebrating traditions

I learn new things at every lovely Passover dinner at the Plotniks.
Last night it was the fact that Maxwell House published a Hagaddah
book at one time in order to switch Jews from tea to coffee after
the dinner. From our dentist friend we heard about "meth mouth"
and we had a little heated discussion about the ex-sheriff of SF who
has to prove his innocence over domestic violence charges. "Only
in San Francisco" is the one thing we all really agreed upon here.

The food was fabulous, of course, and as you can see, the table
sparkled. We didn't get home until after 11pm, so I'm a tad tired
today, but thankful as always for our delightful friends and the
religion of Husbando. Tomorrow we'll celebrate my heritage with
a ham from Costco and maybe a bagel or two, just for the heck of it.

tonight with Elijah?

We are looking forward to the grand brisket gathering over at the
Great Plotniks. The world's best Matzoh ball soup, the ceremony,
haroset, bitter herbs, lamb bone, my salad, Husbando's now-
famous white sauce, asparagus, macaroons for dessert. The world's
worst wine so I'm glad I don't drink. The hosts usually provide us
with fake O'Doul's amber beer, so just in case they need one more
thing to do today, this is a handy reminder list. Starts at sundown,
just as in the days of yore...

And I'll have to bounce up to check my phone app because it's the
first game of our Giants baseball season. Just as in the days of yore...

April is poetry month...

A FACELESS WILL

Now I am past fifty,
the woman I still see
in the mirror when occasionally
I seek her out is slowly
ceasing to be recognizable,
I know who she is---
we have cohabited long enough for that---
and she knows me,
But as one steers through a crowded party
as much escaping A as seeking B,
I would rather look at someone else.
If I do happen to meet her eyes,
I acknowledge her, as she does me,
with a wink before
we mutually quickly turn away.

-Rachel Hadas

not fitting in...

from Bukowski's poem The Aliens ~

you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little friction or distress,
they dress well, sleep well,
they are contented with their family
life.
they are undisturbed
and often feel very good.

There is more, of course, but this gives you a hint about the play we
saw last night about 3 young men in a small Vermont town. The
second act was unexpectedly touching and although it wasn't the
best SF Playhouse production this season, we are both glad that
we saw The Aliens by Annie Baker. It is my belief that life is more
difficult for people who don't fit in living in small towns than for
those who can sort of blend in to big city life. The set by Bill
English was amazing in its authenticity and stark simplicity.

city fix needed

On 24th Street near Harrison

Off Alabama ~ maybe on 17th Street or so

Front yard on Alabama Street ~ probably 12 or so
cluckers (fenced in, fat and happy)

Our Precita Park, two blocks from Casa Verde

I was so ready to walk and appreciate San Francisco yesterday, after
a few days in the beige and occasionally pastel world of Scottsdale.
I definitely need the color, the crazy, the anything goes if you care
about others philosophy here. So I took two long walks and one
bus ride and smiled most of the time in my own city-smug way.

same time next year

Today Ginger and I are typing up some notes so we can have an
even better trip in 2013. The above is an old clock labeled Correct
Time and on my desktop it's called Not True. But we discovered
it back in some alley in Old Town Scottsdale and it caught my eye.

Trip home on Southwest was the usual "God, flying used to be so
easy" experience and returning to a clean house and well weeded
back yard was a delight. I know it's trite, but coming back home
gets better the older you get, don't you think? Everything in it's
right place, the coffee just perfect in my favorite black Olmec
exhibit museum mug, Mitchell's ice cream after dinner and
then 3 hour (yup) of "The Killing" on TV.

It's National Poetry Month ~ a good reason to celebrate this
life. And now, I write the Blogmaid and go for a long walk in
my city where people don't accessorize with holsters and Glocks.

saturday in Scottsdale

The lawn behind center field ~ jam-packed with people

later in the day, during the disappointing game

Dinner at Tommy V's Urban Kitchen last night

on the patio, of course.

I'm blogging here at the Phoenix Airport ~ how many people can say
that? Ready to go home. Ginger is already on her plane and I have
another 2 hours to stare at all these strange people. I'm always shocked
at how tiny toddlers have such intensely magnified boom box voices.

It was another glorious sunshiney day with a horrid baseball game,
but we actually got to see Dusty Baker who is now managing the
Cincinatti Reds. And our Spring Training stadium is absolutely
delightful and it was sold out. They have a mist system, which helps,
except a whole bunch of seats are out in the direct sun without any
shade whatsoever. Hot dogs and yes (!) garlic fries for lunch, but not
as good as the Jewel.

Excellent dinner which included much-needed green salads and
we were on the road this morning at 5am for rental car return and
tedious airport stuff. Great little vacation and we do recommend the
Scottsdale Comfort Suites about a block away from the Stadium and
an easy walk to Old Town too.