So I’ve lived in Arizona my entire life. That’s not true. I moseyed around San Diego for some glorious months in my early twenties, until realizing life as a well-tanned busboy might be short of my potential.
But I was born, bred and raised here. A desert rat who buys firewood when the thermometer drops below 65°. Man made lakes seem normal to me, as does raking gravel. We like raking rocks here, and though people in most other places might find that stupid, we like our tiny rocks in straight lines. Maybe it brings order to our drab lives, or maybe our brains are just the teeniest bit baked.
By the way, did you know that back in the 70s there was a National Weather Service station in a tiny place called Maverick, Arizona? It’s a “town” about as big as your hall closet in Apache County, up near the White Mountains. Back then, every so often in the summer, Arizona would have both the high and low temperature in the nation on the same day, and the low was always in Maverick.
At least that’s how I remember it. Always thought that was something. Anyway.
I’m starting a blog about Arizona.
What am I going to write about? How should I know? Maybe people can ask me questions about Arizona, or wrangling toddlers, or why anyone would eat sardines from a can. I can respond in a way that will have my readers breathless with wonder and doubled over from laughter.
Or maybe slightly interested. So let’s get to it.
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