Taylor Time

It wasn’t so long ago (I think maybe a year or two), that Taylor started pre-school. We have a photo of him at 18 months on the walkway to the Montessori school. He was happily lugging a lunchbox that was almost half his size.

A few months after that (I could be a bit off on the time), he started second grade. I remember he told me listening was his hardest subject.

And a few months later it seems, he started high school. He excelled at tennis and was a wiz on a skateboard.

Today we helped move him into his college dorm. Instead of a lunchbox, he was carrying a messenger bag equipped with his new Apple i-mac computer.

My darling little blue-eyed toddler has fast-forwarded into a darling blue-eyed college freshman. When did this happen?



Photo: Taylor at ASU. His dorm is shown in the background.

Gathering at the Mall

When I’m not busy being a feminist, I occasionally like to repeat gross generalizations about men and women. My favorite is that men were bred to be hunters and women were bred to be gatherers.

To survive, a hunter can’t afford to be too discriminatory. He tends to attack whatever happens by. Gatherers, however, are more selective. They want to survey all the available fruit before they pick only the juiciest. In modern life, this manifests itself in shopping behavior.

Yesterday, Larry spent four hours at Dillards buying a complete new working wardrobe. This included two suits, several jackets and pairs of pants, assorted dress shirts, ties, shoes, socks and underwear. Now he’s finished with shopping. The great hunter has gone into the woods, club the available prey and proudly dragged it home.

I am a gatherer. I can easily spend the same four hours surveying all the available shoes in the mall in search of the juiciest pair.

I've decided to blame genetics for the fact that, after trying on literally 30 pairs of jeans over the past three weeks, I still haven’t bought any. I instinctively believe the perfect pair is out there. I see them in my mind: soft, comfortable and utterly flattering. I just have to keep beating the bushes, so to speak.

Photo by Larry Perkins: Portrait of a Gatherer with no new jeans.

Oh, Ohio!

Photo: My sister-in-law, Kim, and my niece, Jenny Case in their kitchen.

Taylor and I are back from a week of visiting my brother, Tracy, and his family in Ohio. Our week there flew by with a variety of fun activities.

We stayed at their lovely expansive home where Tracy barbecued on his newly redone brick patio. His wife, Kim, made her famous gumbo. We played volleyball in the backyard, tennis at their country club and worked out at their well-equipped modern YMCA. We even played “Guitar Hero” with their kids on one of their big screen TVs.

Tracy took time off from work to take the teenagers to Cedar Point, the best rollercoaster park in the world. He also took the guys to an Indy Car race which included special access passes. The adults went to a charity golf tournament where we ate great Cajun food and drank knock-your-socks-off Bloody Marys. We attended a party at some their friends’ where we enjoyed photos from their joint Caribbean vacation. One of our last days there, one of Tracy and Kim’s friendly neighbors brought over a basket of assorted homemade muffins.

As I lounged in Tracy’s spacious backyard hot tub overlooking their well-manicured lawn, it occurred to me that if Larry had stayed with Marathon (and done well), this might have been my life.

But I don’t have any regrets. I know it’s not for everyone, but I like my life as a stranger in a strange land. The good life, after all, is subjective.

Photo: Nancy, Taylor, Betty and Jenny in the hot tub.

La-TEA-da

Photo: Taylor enjoys tea at the Phoenician Hotel.

Continuing our family tradition of having tea at overpriced hotels, Alec, Taylor and I went to the Phoenician Hotel last week. I am not sure exactly why we started this tradition, or more importantly, why we still continue to do it. I guess that’s the beauty of tradition.

Our other mother-son tea forays have included the Raffles Hotel in Singapore and the Burj Al Arab in Dubai. The Burj was especially memorable for two reasons. First, service at the self-titled “seven star” hotel was really bad. Secondly, after we paid an outrageous sum in advance for their tea service, we found out it didn’t include the TEA.

But at least they know when tea time is (4 p.m.). The Phoenician serves it at 2 p.m.

On the appointed day, I took the precaution of parking in the self-parking section. I thought the valet might take one look at my filthy Nissan Sentra rental car and refuse to let us in!

The Phoenician is in a beautiful setting at the base of Camelback Mountain. I was very impressed until we actually stepped into the hotel, which is years overdue for a facelift. We aren’t just talking about the boring, dated decor. The three of us were escorted over worn carpeting to our table where we sat in chairs with HOLES in the upholstery.

I kept expecting Miss Haversham of Great Expectations to stroll by. Luckily, it was easy to be distracted from the shabby-but-not-so-chic décor by the lovely view. And the food and service were certainly five star.

We were served three courses of little frou-frou sandwiches, scones and bite-sized desserts, along with tea in delicate-looking but hefty Wedgewood. In fact, my teapot was so heavy I had to have Alec pour for me.

After tea, Alec walked us over to the site of the new ballroom will go. He is one of four people working on the design.

Photo: "Put the chandelier right there!" Alec shows off the ballroom site.