Day Twelve: Tucson & Oro Valley, AZ

The rest of my family always tells me how hot it gets in Tucson. But every time I'm there it's never that hot. Usually, it snows and rains and is like 60 degrees, which only happens when I'm there. I was a little luckier this time; it was 85-90 out with about -42% humidity, so the 85-90 felt pretty good and it wasn't like when it's that temperature in Boston and it feels like you're living inside of a soggy gym sock. I'm sure the second I leave tomorrow, the temperature in Tucson will shoot up to 127 degrees. 

I got to see my grandparents, Dor and Bob, for the first time since my brother graduated college in 2010. My mom was too busy taking pictures of me to bother to let me take a picture of her, too. My grandparents were very pleased to hear that I was moving in with Billy, whom they remembered since he came with me to my brother's graduation in Chicago. Apparently you can still believe he's a pretty decent guy if you only spend an hour and a half with him. After that, watch out.

My parents were in Tucson to buy a new house to live in. I didn't realize my dad was in this picture as I took it, but I should have assumed he was as he has an uncanny ability to sniff out photo ops. The house is in "The Foothills." Seemed like a weird name for a part of Tucson, since the entire city is the foothills, aside from the part that is the hills.

Here's another exterior view, that I guess I took while leaning and/or hopping on one foot.

The property manager happened to be at the house. She kindly pointed out that "everything in Arizona has pointers." Just in case you're wondering, the property manager is not that cactus.

The house also comes with that sweet pool. And that mysterious leg/fist.

There's a pretty solid patio, too.

If the zombie apocalypse comes and I'm in Arizona, I am cutting this cactus out of the ground, tying it to a broom handle, and using it to fight off the undead that are storming toward me because I am leaking blood everywhere from botching the first few steps of this plan.

But I'll be OK thanks to the wonders of Mystical Native American Sadness Dolls. Wait ...

Then we went to a Mexican restaurant called Macayo's for lunch and I got this bitchin' margarita. The waiter even gave me a guarantee with this particular beverage: "If you don't like it, I'll drink it for you." Top-ten waiter I've ever had. Probably top-five. I also ate WAYYY too many tortilla chips, and then some more food. Great Mexican restaurant trip. My grandma bought a novelty margarita glass there five years ago and she still brings it with her whenever she dines there, "even if everyone else is embarrassed." That is true dedication. Later, we went back to my grandparents' house and had a beer outside. My grandparents split one, and my grandma lamented that she'd "been reduced to half a beer." It was genuinely sad to me, as I also love beer and can't imagine how coming to such a point would feel.

Also during this beer, my grandpa told me some stories about his travels to Europe years ago. I'll need to go to Scandinavia to verify his claims that Danish women are incomprehensibly beautiful, and that Sweden is full of drunk businessmen who pass out in the middle of the street while dressed in a nice suit and clutching a briefcase.

Badass looking mountains can only become more badass when there's a Chili's in the foreground, you guys.

This has been quite the trip. A little bit of everything. Tomorrow I'm finally going to be in LA. It's gonna be weird to sleep somewhere for more than two nights.