The venerable Westward Ho needed this filter, trust me.
Fuuuuuck!
I sent this photo to a friend in Oregon who quipped, "At least you're not in Texas!"
Gone But Not Forgotten
And So It Begins
We've been running the A/C since Daylight Savings kicked in everywhere else in the country, confirming that the two go hand-in-hand.
I Worked Here…
I worked here in one of the anchor stores, Broadway Southwest, in 1978. I documented Metrocenter's downfall a couple years ago, and just learned the other day that it's shuttering completely at the end of the month. I have so many good memories of this place from my high school and college years. (And just so you know, all—save for one—are non-sexual in nature, you perverts.) It was the place to go and hang out. When it opened in 1974, it was so futuristic.
It's sad, but I suppose life moves on.
Just a Gorgeous February Late Afternoon in Phoenix
It's That Time Of Year Again
Maybe another month of air-conditioned free life. But then it starts…
#truth
October 1982
The Dog Days of Summer*
I hate August in Phoenix. It's this time of year I really miss Denver (or the Bay Area.)
It's miserable. The "dry heat" disappears and humidity descends like a… well, like a wet blanket. Almost every afternoon we're teased with the promise of rain, and yet nothing happens. (Or if it does, it's just enough to dirty everyone's cars.)
I'm really looking forward to winter.
*The "Dog Days" are based in astronomy. The Old Farmer's Almanac lists the traditional timing of the Dog Days: the 40 days beginning July 3 and ending August 11, coinciding with the heliacal (at sunrise) rising of the Dog Star, Sirius.
The rising of Sirius does not actually affect the weather (some of our hottest and most humid days occur after August 11), but for the ancient Egyptians, Sirius appeared just before the season of the Nile's flooding, so they used the star as a "watchdog" for that event.
Since its rising also coincided with a time of extreme heat, the connection with hot, sultry weather was made for all time.
Still Waiting for This
July is nearly over and we've had no monsoon this year.
A Rapidly Spreading Cancer
They're popping up like toadstools after a rainstorm, or more accurately, a rapidly-spreading cancer: multi-story apartment/condo complexes in central Phoenix that are destroying historic (although not protected) landmarks in their wake.*
It is a trend that started several years ago and shows absolutely no sign of abating—at least until the next housing crash mercifully puts it out of our misery.
Phoenix used to limit their multi-family developments to at most three stories in height. This saved the developer money because no elevators were required, and the complexes fit in nicely with the surrounding neighborhoods. But no more! Now 4, 5, or 6 stories are commonplace, and from the looks of it, all of these developments were designed by architects who have never set foot in a desert.
Dark charcoal gray—or black—or deeply colored exterior walls. Yup. Makes perfect sense in an environment where the sun beats down 90% of the time, fading everything (something I immediately noticed upon moving back from Denver) and whose heat will simply be absorbed to re-radiate at night, further increasing the heat bubble hovering over the city in summer and diverting any incoming thunderstorms.
Along those same clueless-designer lines, walls of glass. I'd hate to think of what the cooling bills will be for the units, even if the windows are double-paned. This actually started in the early aughts with a complex I actually lived in (although my particular unit was a more traditional design). Arioso boasted two story units with huge walls of glass
But hey, they all have granite countertops and laminate flooring so it's all cool. Never mind that the vast majority of these units have no storage whatsoever. Years ago you'd get at least a coat/linen closet and a small outside store room on your patio/balcony. But I guess all that square footage adds up and could easily be allocated to even more units to rent out! And it seems their target demographic doesn't own stuff anyway; these apartments/condos look to be more collegiate fuck pads than actual homes. And WTF is up with these "studios" with "bedrooms" with no windows or second means of egress? How does this meet code?!
And don't even get me started on the ridiculous amount of rent they're charging for these shoeboxes…
*Not actually destroying. They're keeping the most architecturally iconic parts of the buildings to quiet the public outcry…and turning them into leasing/sales offices.
The Calendar Says It's Autumn
But apparently Phoenix hasn't gotten the memo.
It Rained a Little Bit the Other Day
Probably the last hurrah for the monsoon this year, but I'm still hoping for more, more, MOAR!!!
Three Years
We just passed the three year anniversary of being back in Phoenix. Hard to believe.
I have to be honest. There are things I do miss about Denver, but they're far outweighed by all the things—mostly related the simple act of getting around town (regardless of weather conditions) that I do not miss.
I also don't miss the constant struggle to breathe, something I wasn't even really aware of until we moved back to a much lower altitude.
I obviously miss the summer and autumn weather. With Phoenix now entering the hottest part of the year and the corresponding increase in humidity that goes along with it, things here are pretty damn insufferable outside of air conditioned spaces.
And I do miss snow; I do not miss attempting to drive in it.
Chinese food. I know that's probably not the first thing that comes to mind when you mention Denver, but damn…that city knows it's Chinese cuisine. And from someone who spent sixteen years in San Francisco, that's something.
Entertainment. There are still a lot of performers/films that will come to Denver but never even consider Phoenix.
Politics. For all the progress Arizona has made in social issues, it's still a definite red-violet state, whereas Colorado is definitely in the purple to blue-violet category.
And yet I get the feeling that if things ever really go belly-up in this country, Denver may actually be one of the few safe refuges.
Nope, That's Not Gonna Fit
We were approached by our landlords/next door neighbors a couple weeks ago to see if we'd be amenable to them removing the mature elm in our back yard so it could be relocated to their front yard to replace a dying ornamental orange. In exchange, they would go ahead with the full rear yard makeover we'd been discussing with them for the past year or so.
How could we possibly say no? Right now the yard is a mess, and the only redeeming feature is that tree.
Last Thursday the tree guy showed up and successfully removed the dying citrus from their front yard.
Unfortunately…
…no matter how many ways they tried it, they could not get the tree removal truck into our back yard (even though the tree guy had previously assured our landlords he could get it back there) to move the elm.
So as it stands now, the landlords are going to have to enlarge the gate before the truck can get in the back yard. We don't yet know the timetable, but since they've already paid to have the tree moved, I can't imagine it will be that long.
We all met with the landscape architect later that day to discuss the plans for the back yard. Apparently our landlords had a much more ambitious plan in mind than we could ever have ever wished for. We just wanted to get rid of most of the water-sucking, impossible-to-maintain always-on-the-verge-of-death lawn and replace it with a more drought-tolerant landscape and run a paver path from the patio to the back gate. They're not only doing that; they're planning on redoing everything. We're getting a new patio with a pergola, gravel in most of the yard with a small lawn area, and new, more drought-resistant trees.
From what was discussed, it sounds like we're going to end up with something similar to this:
It's probably going to be a disaster while it's happening, but the results will definitely be worth it!
This Fucking Intersection
Every town has at least one: an intersection that leaves you convinced the traffic engineers were stoned out of their minds then they designed it. I have to pass through this one twice a day on my way to and from work.
19th Avenue is the street running vertically in the picture. McDowell is horizontal. Grand Avenue (US60, which runs to Wickenburg and points west) is the street that runs diagonally in the picture and fucks up everything it touches. (Many years ago ADOT finally built over/underpasses at nearly all of the Grand Avenue intersections, but for some reason this one was omitted and IMHO, it needs one more than any of the others. I'm sure it was left out because the State Fairgrounds are on the northeast corner, a small oil refinery on the southwest and neither could be encroached upon for for the necessary ramping required. Interstate 10 is about a quarter mile below the bottom of the picture.
Because of inadequate planning when I-10 was put in, every morning traffic backs up on 19th Avenue from the single eastbound onramp to this particular intersection. Because the backup is so awful there isn't enough room to get everyone into the left turn lane onto the freeway, it spills off into the left lane itself, effectively cutting 19th Avenue down to one lane between the intersection from hell and the freeway.
Going home at night in the opposite direction it's even worse, because not only is there traffic coming off I-10 wanting to go northwest on Grand, we also traffic coming from the Capital complex off southern 19th Avenue wanting to do the same. To their credit, the traffic designers thought this one out a little bit; they at least put in a dual left-turn lane on 19th northbound at the this intersection.
Not that it really makes any difference.
Traffic still backs up to the freeway (this time northbound), so the idiot drivers I have to deal with on a daily basis pull into the left (straight ahead lane) and STOP, attempting to push their way into the flow of left turn traffic when the light changes. If that doesn't work, they turn that left lane into a THIRD left turn lane onto Grand, and I've witnessed more than one close call as the idiots narrowly avoid hitting someone else turning left from the southbound direction.
If this weren't already enough of a clusterfuck, there's a rail line that runs north just to the west of 19th Avenue, crosses McDowell (you can see it at the edge of the picture), and then runs parallel to Grand.
Lord help everyone when a train decides to rumble through (which is often), completely blocking all east-west traffic and disabling the left turn lane signals off 19th Avenue completely.
I've learned to simply avoid that middle (left) lane until I get through the intersection, but even that is no guarantee of safety. The other day I saw some idiot make a FOURTH left turn lane from the MIDDLE straight ahead lane, nearly colliding with someone who was proceeding through the intersection in the left lane!
And god forbid there's actually a collision in this intersection. You'd might as well turn around and go back from where you came (if you can), or just turn your engine off because you aren't going to get through in any kind of timely fashion.
For the next quarter mile past this intersection going north, there are several prominent " NO LEFT TURN 4-6 PM" signs posted on the residential streets that feed off 19th Avenue. I always used to wonder why they were there. Now I know.
The idiots who can't (or won't) wait to turn left onto Grand Avenue blow through the intersection and then turn left onto one of the residential streets because they all end at another street that allows you to get on Grand without having to wait for a six-way stop light.
Of course there's no enforcement of the NO LEFT TURN signs. None whatsoever. Because why would there be?
There's another route I could use to get to and from work, but it involves a dozen stop signs and often-blocked streets. So yeah.
Dreaming of Snow
The other night I dreamt it started snowing and it was wonderful. I know, strange statement coming from a guy who had come to detest the white stuff by the time we left Denver. But this dream was…different. I wasn't in Denver; I was in Phoenix. Now, snow in Phoenix isn't unheard of, but it's extremely rare and seldom lasts more than a few hours after dusting the ground. It's so rare in fact, that I had a very hard time finding any decent photos to illustrate it.
In this dream I was coming out of a Trader Joe's…or a Sprouts…or a Whole Foods…or some other hipster-addled grocery store where people buy ready-to-eat artisanal, cruelty-free organically-grown, non-GMO gluten-free potstickers and during the time I'd been in the store (picking the last of the good orange cherry tomatoes individually out of a bin), the skies had clouded over and temperature had dropped precipitously. It felt like snow weather. The clouds were hanging—to quote a line from Rocky Horror—dark and pendulous. The ground was already turning white as the flakes began falling.
I wasn't concerned. I knew it wouldn't be like a Denver storm where I might have trouble getting home, and the sheer joy I felt at the cold temperature made me realize on some level I actually missed that kind of weather.
We're now in our third summer back in Phoenix; a milestone that I've always marked as being fully acclimated to a climate—especially one as brutal as Phoenix. It's marks the point that you can relax and take solace in knowing the ridiculously hot days won't last forever; that in just a few short months cold water will actually start coming out of the cold water tap again and you might even have to wear a hoodie when you go out.
Come to think of it, the whole thing might just have been fever-induced as I was coming down sick—something akin to a (reverse) plot line from that old Twilight Zone episode The Midnight Sun…
Two Years
This week marked our two year anniversary back in Phoenix. It doesn't feel like it's been that long, but it has. After all, two years ago we still had adults in the White House.
I'd be lying if I said there weren't things about Denver that I miss—especially at this time of year. It doesn't help that I stream KUVO (Denver's jazz station) on many a morning and afternoon commute and hear the high and low temps. I'm sure I won't feel the same way in six months once the snow starts falling, but right now it sounds wonderful.
But there's this…
Ah yes, the Denver commute from hell. Such fond memories of driving the 25.
And then of course this…
…are all that's needed to snap me out of any nostalgic longing I may have.
We also just signed another two year lease on our current domicile. It's not perfect (we'd both rip out the 69-year old bathroom and kitchen and replace them in a heartbeat if we could), but the house remains a good fit for us at this point in our lives. We still don't have use of the third bedroom, filled to the brim as it is with Ben's mother's crap, but we're planning on getting some sort of outside storage set up for that in the coming months to get it cleared out.
And then there's the back yard. It's 5500 square feet of weeds in winter and nearly dead lawn no matter how much water we throw on it in summer. Several months ago we proposed to the landlords that we cut the lawn down to a small patch directly to the west of the patio (that's shaded and protected by a large elm tree) and lay gravel down in the remainder of the space. Throw a couple drought-tolerant mesquite trees back there, a paver walkway from the patio to the back gate, and call it done. Surprisingly, they just agreed to it—assuming of course, that we pay for it.
So that's not gonna happen any time soon. But who knows…we could win one of those HGTV giveaways we keep entering or strike it rich with the Arizona lottery!
Some Days I Do Miss Denver
I knew it was hot the minute I walked out of work yesterday afternoon. The car thermometer registered 119 for most of the commute, topping out at 121 as I turned onto our street. The temperature probe on this thermometer had been in the shade all day, so that was the actual air temperature.
On days like this, -8℉ and 10" of snow in the middle of May doesn't sound so bad. But then I think about the other aspects of life that caused us to flee Denver and realize it's just the heat (and a bit of nostalgia) talking to me.
I fear these temps are becoming the new normal and their onset and duration will only get earlier and last longer. (But according to Glorious Leader and his minions, global warming is just a myth perpetrated by Liberals and the Chinese to sell more us air conditioners and take away our guns, force us to have abortions and get gay married…or something.)
Happy Summer Solstice
Spring is Coming
A Photo Outing
It was a nice day yesterday. Autumn is doing it's damnedest to come to the valley. Didn't want spend all day sitting at home, so we drove out to the Mesa Arts Center.
It's Hot Out There
I'd be lying if I said that after only one year I'd fully reacclimated to the Phoenix summertime heat, because I haven't. It's damn hot out there.
It doesn't help that it's currently about ten degrees F hotter than it was a year ago on this date. Or the year before that. Or the year before that. Or pretty much any time as far back in my lifetime as I want to go.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear that Mother Earth was tired of our shit and is running a fever, hoping to rid herself of the human virus…
One Year
As of today, we've been back in Phoenix exactly one year.
I wish I could say my employment situation has improved since leaving Denver, but as we all know, it hasn't. I remain optimistic. It usually takes me two or three false starts each time I change cities to get situated somewhere that I like and that lasts for more than a few months, so we're coming due here pretty quick.
Other than the employment thing, life has been good over this past year. I love the house we're renting, I love the ease of getting around Phoenix, and though I learned over during the four years we lived in Colorado that I prefer being cold and dry to being hot and dry, I still love being back in warm weather.
And while photos like this…
…get me feeling a little nostalgic and make me realize how little of the state we actually saw during the time we lived there—all I have to do is think of the cost of living, driving in the snow, getting stuck while driving in the snow, working at DISH, and the appalling insanity of Denver drivers, and I'm cured of any nascent longing instantly.
Propane and Propane Accessories
Yup.
Architectural Update
Then And Now
Photowalk
If I Don't Put It Out There It Will Never Happen
As I have lamented on this blog previously, one of the biggest regrets of my life was that I've gotten rid of so many things I wish I'd held on to.
The first of those things being the notebooks I'd amassed that were full of audio manufacturer literature from the 70s and 80s. I don't actually recall at this point if I intentionally threw them out or if they were inadvertently left in a closet when fleeing an unfortunate roommate situation in 1989, but the fact remains at some point they disappeared.
The second of those things were the multiple notebooks of the floor plan/exterior elevation handouts I'd collected from Hallcraft Homes for the duration of my dad's employment with the company. I believe I left them in Dad's care when I first moved out of my folks' house in the early 80s, with the intent of eventually getting them back at some point. Well, life happened and I'd all but forgotten about them (and the dozens of actual construction blueprints in our possession) until some time after he moved to the Bay Area and I inquired as to their whereabouts. "Oh, I threw all that stuff out after the divorce."
Well fuck me.
My heart sank. Looking back on it now, I think his tenure at the firm (especially the last few years after they'd been bought out by a Canadian company) became increasingly difficult and when the opportunity presented itself for a purge of all physical reminders of his time there, he went for it—something totally out of character for my dad who seemed to hold onto every other thing in the world.
With the advent of the internet, I'd always fantasized what a great resource having all those handouts would be to current owners of the homes—if only for historical reference, and after his death I'd hoped against all odds that my sister would find a hidden cache in his things. Alas, no such cache was found.
Searching online for already published examples of those handouts has been a lesson in futility—until yesterday. With all the Phoenix history swirling through my brain of late, I did a search for "Hallcraft Showcase of Homes." This led me to—of all places—the Sunburst Farms HOA page. Sunburst Farms was the first of several Hallcraft subdivisions with one- and two-acre lots. (Ben's grandfather actually still owns a home in one of the east side developments.) On this HOA page there was a link to "Historic Documents" and on that page were links that sent my heart fluttering: Hallcraft Flyer 1, Hallcraft Home Plans 1, Hallcraft Home Plans 2, Home Elevations, Home Prices…
It wasn't a treasure trove, but considering I'd previously only possessed three floor plans and an equal number of exterior elevation sheets, being able to add three more was like Christmas to me.
This morning, while I lay awake at 4 am again, another thought came to me: Craigslist! and I thought, "Fuck It! If I don't put it out there, it will never happen."
So now I have a "wanted" ad on the Phoenix Craigslist seeking these handouts; not to buy, but simply to scan or photograph in hopes of getting them all posted online. In the 1970s alone there were about 45 different single-family floor plans, and probably an equal number of townhouse/fourplex plans. The fact that someone kept a few—that I didn't have—tells me that somewhere in Phoenix, in boxes at the back of closets and garages, my treasure may be lurking.
The images above are from yesterday's discovery, and that particular plan was actually one of my favorites even though—god forbid as far as my mother was concerned—it didn't have a separate dining room. That seems silly now, as I could easily see using the "family room" as a separate dining space since I could never understand the need for having a living room and a family room.