Mentionables

A monsoon storm was tracking southwest toward the Star Pass area of Tucson at 5:45 p.m. that Tuesday. Absorbed in ordering cat litter online from Amazon, I levitated off my swivel chair when an explosion of ice rocks came crashing onto my house. A warning shot across our bows would have been nice, like a few drops of rain, but it was a complete surprise attack. The size of the hail ranged from a tickey to a sixpence to a shilling—or a dime to a nickel to a quarter. It covered the yard like Arizona snow.

Hail piled up in front of 2931 W. Saint Tropaz Avenue, Tucson, courtesy of my neighbor Jerald Pederson.

Front yard and back yard (courtesy of my Samsung Galaxy Centura cell phone from behind tinted glass).

The icy missiles punched holes in the redwood trellis covering my pergola, as well as in anything plastic: two costly planter/dividers; two drain pipes connected to the water harvesting barrels; and three flowerpot saucers used as birdbaths. The latter were so badly wounded I had to send them to recycle heaven. The smallest branches on top of my eucalyptus, and some on other trees, were shredded all over the yard. I'm just happy the ±30-foot euc is still standing.

My damage, however, was minor compared to the smashed windshields and skylights suffered by neighbors. A quote from my mail lady: "I spoke to a woman on my route today who had gone out to bring in the trash bins and got caught. She shielded her head and face with her arms, but showed me a bruise about 3 inches across on her shoulder, and one of her fingers was split to the bone upon being struck."

Fixing the gaps in the pergola is not worth the $1,000 insurance deductible, so I'll have to figure out how to fake it. I can't face doing the extensive cleanup until the temperature drops below 70°. I can't believe my windows didn't break. In the 41 years I've lived in this house since it was brand new in 1974, I've seen only one other hailstorm that sounded as if it could break windows (but didn't), and then the hailstones were only dime size or less. And that, my friends, is why the 2015 Hailstorm at Saint Tropaz is blogworthy.

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March 25, 2015 -- SERENDIPITY EXPRESS

A blogger I'm not, but today I actually did something different, thanks to two enthusiastic fellow writers (both featured on the Mystery Anthology and Stream Pebbles websites). Mary Darling (an SSA member from Nogales) had the bright idea to ask *diedre Knight (a former AMW member) and me to join her for lunch at the Cup Cafe, located in the Hotel Congress (where John Dillinger was captured in 1934). Since Chicken Molly feared parking downtown, *diedre very kindly picked me up.

Serendipity began dogging us relentlessly, starting when *diedre found a parking space near the cafe. At that moment, a nice man who was leaving offered us the rest of the time on his meter, but we needed the whole two hours and had no clue how to work the newfangled meter, which was too high up for short people to read anyway, so he showed us how to use my credit card (it cost only $2.00--I think).

As if the perfectly cooked $12 hamburgers and lemon meringue pie at the Cup Cafe weren't extravagant enough, *diedre insisted on treating us for the entire meal. I had proposed taking a trip on the $198 million trolley around its half-hour circuit, but since that would mean putting more money in the parking meter, I was ready to chicken out. Refusing to be ignored, Serendipity instantly produced two free parking spaces in the Cup Cafe parking lot, which both Mary and *diedre were able to snap up.

Trolley near the University of Arizona

Proceeding to the nearest trolley stop, we located the dispenser where we were supposed to buy the tickets, but again had no clue how to work it. As the trolley was fast approaching, *diedre thought we should just get the hell on board and see what happened, so we did, and the sky did not fall (although I nearly did, walking while the machine was moving). When the trolley reached its westernmost point on Congress, the driver, Kyle (who has driven a plethora of vehicles throughout the nation), showed us how to purchase 1-Day tickets for $4 each and scan them after climbing aboard, so he could stay on schedule.

All along the route from downtown Tucson to the University of Arizona, the changes in the landscape were so extreme I felt like a tourist. The ride was smooth except for the occasional tight turn and one rough spot, and for a while in the early afternoon we had the trolley to ourselves. At the end of our trip, a second conductor arrived to arrest(?) anyone without a ticket. (We could have ridden around and around for another 23.5 hours if we wanted to.)

The entire occasion was too delightful not to mention, and we agreed that kudos were due to our great ideas and to Serendipity.

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