A friend had a good Facebook reminder for this weekend. Memorial Day -- Not just National Barbeque Day.
Before we moved far from family, Memorial Day was spent in cemeteries placing wreaths and flowers on the graves of loved ones who'd died. And honoring relatives who'd served our country and passed on.
I've written about him before in my blog, but the dashing guy in the hula skirt with the cigarette hanging out his mouth is my dad. He served on base at Pearl Harbor during WWII. While he didn't see much combat, he saw the devastation from battle everyday at the hospital there. He joined the Navy his freshman year in college shortly after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
Memorial Day's also for remembering better family times. As kids, Memorial Day was opening day at the public pool. It always rained, so we spent a lot of time in swimsuits on the driveway whining for parents to drive us to the pool which in reality was NOT opening due to the cool rainy weather.
As adults with a young son, we'd drive to the Washington or Oregon beach for the holiday weekend. And in recent years, Craig and I have been on Isla Mujeres enjoying the solitude there.
This year, we are going to a barbeque. I'm bringing the potato salad and pineapple guacamole, and in reality, even though it's Arizona, it may be too cool for the pool.
Wherever you are, hope you spend a nice Memorial Day with memories, family and friends!
Maybe I already posted this one, but it's my fave photo from May 2014.
Sometimes I stump myself. I'm guessing this guy stands out Sac Bajo way?
This truck looks cartoonish. I'd like to take the ape for a spin!
I've failed the hip and cool test. I thought Kokonuts closed years ago.
This has to be Miguel's front porch.
Tree of Lost Souls?
Once again I'm stumped, but I'm thinking Mogagua?
I water walked this morning, lunched with friends, trimmed shrubs, ate leftover pizza for dinner, took a walk, saw a large coiled rattlesnake in the road, and watched three more episodes of Grace and Frankie (check it out on Netflix for laughs). Just one more of #100HappyDays
There's nothing the locals love more in Arizona than a storm -- with lightning, thunder, and rain. According to the weatherman, this weekend's supposed to be a big event -- which translates to a chance of precipitation.
Last September the national news waited and waited in Tucson for a hurricane to hit and finally left with tails tucked between legs.
Soooooooo. Bring in the patio cushions, but don't hold your breath!
Personally, I like my water rather salty. I'm not into countdowns, but my #100HappyDays photos resembling this should be posting live in a lot less than one hundred days!
One of the joys of visiting Bisbee is the small town ambience. I was born in a small town (John Cougar Mellencamp?), but that's where the comparison ends. They call Bisbee Mayberry on Acid and that slogan is dead on.
One visit we ran into a Texan who'd recently moved to Bisbee thinking it was a conservative small town in Arizona. The man was highly frustrated. After buying a cottage, he soon discovered Bisbee was a liberal enclave full of artists, free-thinkers and what he deemed as nefarious types.
Wall murals throughout the town signal Dorothy isn't in Kansas anymore.
But an adorable dog at the cottage gate reminds you that Bisbee truly is Small Town, U.S.A. straight out of J.A. Jance's Joanna Brady novels.
Then you stroll past another mural
before passing the Sea Shell cottage, formerly a miner's home.
Early 1900's cottages dot the town alongside murals with peace, love, and Eastern religion.
The Mimosa Market up Brewery Gulch carries organic fruits and veggies along with an impressive wine selection and home-baked goods.
You'd never see street art like this in my hometown. Don't pee on the retaining wall!
You know it's a village when you see the 5 mph speed limit sign!
This mural serves as a reminder that Bisbee's just miles from the border and was part of Mexico once upon a time.
Brightly colored cottages line the town's lanes
While young counterculture hipsters stroll Main Street.
After all these blissful days of happiness I come home to Fat Bastard fouling my pristine courtyard.
While I love taking photos of things like this in the tropics
THIS is not your living room Fat Bastard!
The man promised to remove him from the Mexican bench at my front door before he left for pickle ball (don't ask) this morning. His idea of Fat Bastard removal was chasing him through the drain hole in the courtyard wall.