A Wonderful Sunday...

Who is that saucy girl leaning on the motorcycle? Why none other than our little Gnomey on a Sunday adventure out of town. In a much better mood, rested, regrouped, and ready to take on life with renewed vigor. (And perhaps a new job? Hee hee!) Having been out of Phoenix, and the country, for such a great deal of time this Spring, we wanted to snag a weekend ride before the last of the livable, beautiful and non-sweltering days are snatched away from us by summer. That summer girl snatches so quickly and ferociously 'round here,like a catty woman at a Midnight Madness sale fighting for the last close-out special towels.


Even so, we got a bit sweaty heading out of the city for higher elevations, passing the Four Peaks mountain range. We then twisted through some beautiful country up to Roosevelt Lake. (See Pic #3 below) We've taken the ride before, yes, but today was quite radiant. The fishermen out in the reeded fringes. The wakeboarders waking their way through deeper waters. The sunlight sparkled on the surface with the playful joy of a sun not yet at high noon or high summer. Though we had to travel through the dying, desolate (oh, other than the oh so pretty mining industry) towns of Globe/Miami, the journey is an excellent one all the way to Apache Junction. All twisty, two-lane roads with not yet purely yellow desert vistas stretching away into the rock-capped mountains. Amazing how the eye adjusts to different color palates. I was thinking to myself today that the landscape is still so green, before remembering that an Arizona green is still a dusty version of the verdant New England or Pacific Northwest varieties.


At Apache Junction, however, the city really begins again. Yup. Twenty miles of pseudo-city, a.k.a. suburbs before actually reaching Phoenix, by which time our faces bead with sweat and our lungs rebel against the highway's exhaust. No way round it, so bear it we must. The Boyfriend then tempted me away from my healthy eating habits and into Joe's Real BBQ in the old, downtown section of Gilbert, a southern suburb. I'm not a huge carnivore, but I can appreciate a good rib when it melts in my mouth. Afterwards, back at home, I finished my book reclining on a pillow in a cool room, the afternoon sun slanting bright through the window.


I think somedays are just meant to be a little bit sweeter than others. Granted, Mondays are usually the red-headed step children of the weekly family. Sundays, well, Sundays just get lucky, often being the special day picked to be such a sweet, desert dessert. And I get to share this sweet treat with The Boyfriend, which doubles the pleasure. Thanks for yet another (though short) adventure, babe!

(Stay tuned for Flash Fiction #34, which hopefully shall be finished and posted by the deadline tomorrow!)