Happy Birthday Rosalind!

Rosalind turned 35 on Saturday – for the record, still not old. 

To celebrate her not old-ness, we visited Smeeks, a brand-new candy shop in town, right next to the best boutique in Phoenix, Frances.

I have found heaven on Earth, and it is called Smeeks:

 

 

 

 

 

 

We treated ourselves to root beer barrels, Skybars, Chick-O-Sticks, candy cigarettes (which we smoked while buying movie tickets later), cupcake lipgloss (see above) and an ice cream cone that is actually a pen/lip gloss COMBO!  Genius.

Dancing Fireflies

Yesterday we visited the Phoenix Art Museum, because we believe it’s so important to expose Moo to art, and also, um - Rosalind gave us free tickets.   Oh yes, we’ve got connections – Rosalind helps out in the museum store whenever she can, and sometimes gifts us her museum passes.  She’s not quite a museum expert – as she told me, “Every time a customer opens their mouth, I’m just praying they’re going to ask where the bathroom or the elevator is, because other than that, I have no clue.”

So of course when we arrived, I asked if she could direct us to the Early European Impressionists, and also do you have any books on Himalayan art?  Rosalind was not amused.  She did, however, know where we could find the fireflies, which is where we spent most of the afternoon.

Technically, the fireflies are called, “YOU WHO ARE GETTING OBLITERATED IN THE DANCING SWARM OF FIREFLIES!!!”  by Yayoi Kusama.  I don’t think Kusama included the capitalization and exclamation marks in the title, but I just don’t see how you can’t SHOUT IT!  DANCING FIREFLY SWARM!  ACH!  SO BEAUTIFUL AND SO SWARMY!  EEK I AM GETTING OBLITERATED!

Here’s someone’s trippy picture of the experience:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But the obliteration is actually much more peaceful than that – it’s simply a dark, mirrored room with thousands (?) of LED lights hanging down and constantly changing color.  You can’t see yourself at all, and it looks like these little firefly lights go on and on forever.  I thought Moo might freak out, but safely in her Daddy’s arms, she made best friends with the fireflies in a snap and was soon deep in conversation with them.  “I’m red!  Ooh no, now I’m green!  Look, you’re pink!”

Moo also was hypnotized by this dancing tree:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And of course, she loved the miniature room, a gallery of tiny bedrooms and dining rooms replicating period-style European and American houses, which has not changed a smidge since I was a kid pressing my nose up to the glass.  Moo seemed entranced by the teeny tiny books lining the walls, and declared that she was pretty sure her snake “King True” lived in the most opulent rooms.

We also visited the “Kids Gallery,” which apparently re-opened last May, and left me scratching my head.  I visited the kids’ space a few years ago with my niece and nephew, and it was pretty lame back then – remarkably, it has become even more lame.  I don’t think you can call a stack of books about art and a glorified puzzle a “gallery.”  I felt nostalgic for the good ol’ days at the Phoenix Art Museum when I was a kid – correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I remember a shadow room in the basement, giant blocks, and a velcro wall.  And at Christmas, they always had a Christmas tree and gingerbread house exhibit.  Back then, they courted younger visitors – now it almost seems like they don’t want children to visit.  But I don’t know, perhaps the good folks at the art museum are just trying to save the youth from TOTAL FIREFLY OBLITERATION!

If you haven’t seen the fireflies yet, I highly recommend that you go check them out.  And while you’re there, say hi to Rosalind!  Ask her where you might find the Spanish Colonial art.  She’ll love it.

Sweet, Sweet, Sweet Republic

Rosalind always has the inside word on the coolest, newest, yummiest places in town, so when she sent me an email describing a new ice cream shop in Scottsdale that made “artisan ice cream and sorbet,” I immediately drooled on my keyboard.

We finally made it out there this afternoon, after lunch at Oregano’s, where I told Moo that she’d have to eat all her lunch if she wanted a sweet treat afterwards.  She called my bluff and promptly declared that she did not like pizza, so I had to negotiate a compromise (because there was no way I was skipping the ice cream, I’d been dreaming about it all day) in which she promised to eat lunch after her nap.  I’m still not sure which one of us was manipulated in that situation.

Sweet Republic is glorious.  They have over 100 flavors, offering about 25 per day, so you never know what you’re going to find, except you can usually count on some of the favorites (Salted Butter Caramel!) and some of the infamous (Blue Cheese and Date!).  I think Rosalind and I frightened the owner when we arrived and immediately asked if there was a limit on how many flavors we could taste.  “Uh, nooooo…” she replied, obviously concerned that we were going to mini-spoon her right out of business.  We tried Basil Lime, Malted Vanilla, Mojito Citrus, and of course Blue Cheese, which was – oh goodness, indescribably dreamy.  We finally settled on Peaches n’ Cream and Salted Butter Caramel, and Moo chose easily - pink!  We added some whipped cream and mini chocolate chips so she would be as excited as we were.

 
I ended up taking home a big bag of ice cream to-go (not the most practical purchase in Phoenix), so that I could share the sweet creaminess with all my loved ones.  Or – that was the idea… but I did leave Herbie a few bites.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Sweet Republic - check it out for yourself! (Cuz I’m not sharing.)

Put On A Happy Face

Yesterday afternoon, Rosalind, Moo and I found refuge from all the flu hysteria in a hidden garden (no really, that’s what it’s called) in north Phoenix.  Moo explored the fountains and flowers while the fabulous Rosalind snapped pictures to commemorate Moo’s newfound Twoness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that Rosalind is going to be in San Diego in July and August doing beach portraits, so if you’re going to be in the area, well, you already know I think she’s a genius.

We’re Not Old, We’re Awesome

Rosalind was shooting a wedding last week (not literally; with a camera) attended by a young foolish friend idiot she’d known for a while.  This 24-year-old filly flitted up at the end of the wedding to say goodbye to Rosalind.

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked Rosalind.  “If not, we really want to set you up with Bobby.  He likes older women!”

Um.  WHAAAAAA?

Hold on.  WAIT.  Are we older women?

Are we even “women?”

I feel much more like a chick, or a lass, or even a babe, than a “woman.”  A woman has it all together – love life, career, and more than one pair of jeans that fit.  A woman does not eat Chex Mix for lunch and read Us Weekly and scratch in uncouth places.  A woman eats salmon salad and reads Vanity Fair and perfectly reapplies her lipstick without looking in a mirror.

Rosalind and I discussed the “older woman” issue at length.  Even Herbie got in on the conversation, although we were dismayed that he was not quite as SHOCKED as he should have been.

I mean, I think you have to be at the very least 45-years-old with a 20 year age gap to be considered an “older woman,” in the dating sense.  Demi Moore dating Ashton Kutcher – that’s an older woman relationship.  Cloris Leachman dating Jack Black – another good example.

But not-even-35?  I don’t think so.  However – if we’re not older women, what are we?  We’re certainly not young women anymore.  Herbie posited that we’re like adult tweens – twadults, perhaps?  Twomen?

No.  We’re in our PRIME, right? Prime time, time to make a rhyme (oops, a Sesame Street song snuck in there for a second).  We are ladies in our prime – in your 30’s, it allll comes together, right?  Career, love life, SEXuality, beauty, confidence, an awesome, flattering wardrobe and the perfect hairstyle…

Hmm… well, maybe it all just magically happens as soon as we turn 35.

But back to Rosalind at the wedding – as soon as her idiot friend realized her gaffe (right about the time Roz struck her with her patented Laser Eye of Death), she started frantically back-pedaling.

“I mean, I don’t mean you’re OLD, just that he likes, you know, mature women?  With experience?  Like smart and stuff?”

But Rosalind just shook her head, cutting her off.  “You need to go,” she told the twit.  “Now.”  The twit wimpered and fled.

Ha.

Take that, 20-something twits of the world.  We twadults aren’t going to take your crap anymore.  Now leave us alone – we have Chex Mix to eat and celebrity gossip to discuss.

Tomorrow we’ll eat canapes and discuss politics, I swear.

Luckily, Rosalind Always Keeps Garlic Nearby

Since we’ve been talking about how Rosalind’s so great and everything, I just had to share a couple of my all-time favorite photos.  Rosalind took these when Moo was 11 months old: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See, first Moo tempts you closer by offering you Cheerios and flashing her dimples, and THEN when she’s got you right where she wants you:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 VAMPIRE BABY ATTACK!!!

Say Cheese!

It’s official!  I’m a wannabe actress.  The Great and Powerful Rosalind kindly took pictures of me today, so now I’ll have a headshot to hand over at auditions.

I haven’t had my hair done in three months and my eyebrows are dancing to their own beat, but I think our final choice turned out great, in no small part due to Rosalind’s handy-dandy Magic Photoshop Pen, which swooshes away dark circles and sun spots with a mere flick of the wrist! 

Here are a few pictures that didn’t make the cut:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Please, sir!  Please cast me in your stage extravaganza.  I’m just a poor, lonesome stay-at-home-mom who likes to wear tights and warble show tunes…give a lass a chance?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ”Hiya!  I’m a fun-loving gal who will make sure everybody in the show has a GREAT time, if you know what I mean!  Do you know what I mean??  Lookit my boobies, weee!”

And finally, Mama Rose’s Official Headshot:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks Rosalind!  I wish that Magic Photoshop Pen came in purse size…

Foolin’ in Flag

I accompanied dear Rosalind up to the charming town of Flagstaff today to assist her in a photo shoot (read: keep her company on the drive).  We got there a little early to enjoy the cool breeze and have lunch at Josephine’s, where I got a picture of the water pitcher before my battery died:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ooooh, water pitcher!

Then I held her camera while Roz snapped pictures of beautiful people.  When we finished, we decided to have a little photo shoot of our own.  Here’s the concept:  We’re starring in a sitcom called “Two For the Road,” about two lifelong friends who grew up in the city but have now moved to the country because…um, because they inherited a woodsy cabin from a kindly old man, and now they’re going to turn the cabin into a cupcake bakery/cha-cha club.    Weee! 

Next on Lifetime!  Two for the Road!
Starring Rosalind and Rose:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s our theme song (sung to the tune of the Laverne & Shirley theme song):

Here we are, we’re in the woods now
Got a cabin, there’s a bear – wow!
Let’s throw some pinecones in the air…
And we’ll throw these pinecones up in the air
Then we’ll jump off this rock
Yes we’ll throw these pinecones up in the air
Oh no here comes a bear
Let’s run awaaaaaay!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here’s my Mary-Tyler-Moore-goes-to-the-woods interpretation, with pine needles instead of a jaunty cap:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think our show will be a huge hit with the cupcake/cha-cha/pine needle lovin’ demographic!

We’re such nerds.