Trips Down the Mountain
There are times when I must go down the mountain to the Valley. My aim is to stay only as long as necessary. In practical terms, that means I schedule myself up the wazoo. And since I don’t have a washer or dryer up here, I bring along my laundry.
This week I had to go down to see my older granddaughter Abby, age six, in her first dance recital. I planned everything around the Tuesday night performance. Sparky, Louie, and I left early, about 7:30 a.m., but we were thwarted. The southbound ramp of I-17 was closed so I had to go to Willard Springs before I headed south. Then there was an accident on the 101. That made us twenty minutes late for their grooming appointment. I had just enough time to put in the first wash before I went to the eye doctor. I got there on time, barely. Then it was back home to put the wash in the dryer, hang up the jeans so they wouldn’t get too short, put in another wash, and pick up the dogs from the groomer. They were transformed into sweeties from the mountain men I’d dropped off.
I took them home and headed out to meet a friend for lunch at Filiberto’s. She had suggested Olive Garden but it was Taco Tuesday. They’re terrific and only ninety-nine cents on Tuesdays. How was I supposed to know she wanted to treat me?
I went to the Honda dealership to see about replacing my broken visor. The service person said it would take forty-five minutes, which I didn’t have. I told him I would return early the following morning.
I made another quick trip home to put in more wash and pick up my work computer before I met my team leader to do home visits. It’s the tail end of a temporary job being an assessor and interviewer for the Early Childhood Longitudinal Study. We were going to see parents who didn’t answer their voicemails to see if they could be reached. We went to see five parents and got some new telephone numbers for them.
My team leader’s daughter had taken dance lessons, so told me to pick up flowers for Abby. I picked out pink daisies and met the proud parents and other grandparents to enjoy the recital. Abby’s group was in the first half, so we got to leave at intermission. Of course she was cute and did the dance well. I’m amazed at the lack of manners on the part of audiences these days. Parents seem to think it’s acceptable to whistle and yell out their child’s name during the performance.

We went out for frozen yogurt. I headed home to write up the parent visits in the electronic record, and of course, to do more wash.
The next morning I loaded the trunk and headed for the Honda dealership. As I was explaining about the visor, the service person pointed to the light on my dashboard. (I rarely pay attention to those lights. Mostly they mean you put inanimate objects on the passenger seat and the air bag will not deploy or it’s time for a regular service.) It was the tire light. I sat in the very comfortable waiting room for quite a while. I had a 9:30 nail appointment, an eleven o’clock haircut, and a 12:15 lunch with a friend. I went to see the service advisor. He informed me that he would have to order the visor. It had taken a long time to find the nail in my tire! He asked if I’d gotten the guarantee when I bought the tires at Discount Tire. When I said I had, he suggested I get them to fix it. Was I lucky that they checked it out before I headed back up the mountain!
So on the way to the nail appointment, I called Discount Tire and made an appointment for my tire. Then I called the friend and asked her to meet me at Filiberto’s, which just happened to be across the street from the tire place.
I was relaxed after the pedicure and the pampering at the hair salon. I arranged for the tire to be fixed, met my friend, had some laughs, and then went home to pick up the dogs for the trip back. I was ready for Happy Hour at the club by the time I unloaded the car and walked the dogs.
I could make left less hectic if I remained another day in Scottsdale, but why stay in hell when paradise is so close?