December 21-24
I had gone to CVS down the block on Saturday to arrange refills of a couple of prescriptions. The pharmacy had to get in touch with mine in New Jersey. It’ll take 24 to 48 hours, the lady said.
So I checked back on Tuesday morning.
CVS had called but my pharmacy was closed. That didn’t sound right, even with the two-hour difference in time.
That was the start of the Rx scramble.
I called Grove Pharmacy in Montclair. Nobody was answering, and it was only the middle of the afternoon there. I didn’t count the rings but I could have held on for two dozen before someone picked up.
When I said how long I’d been on the phone, the guy on the line wasn’t surprised at all.
I phoned CVS and had a similar delay.
So I phoned my doctors’ offices to ask that they send prescriptions. I switched to a nearby Walgreen’s as the recipient.
I called Walgreen’s to give them a heads-up. I had to wait through a list of callers ahead of me. It seems to be universal right now.
Next time, I’m going to get paper scrips for refills before I leave.
For dinner we walked a couple of blocks to Grapevine. They had fish on the menu for Joanna.
I was in the mood for red meat and opted for a hamburger, along with a Louis Martini Cabernet that the waitress recommended. The wine was good, so I had two.
Joanna had a sandwich with grilled catfish.
When I got back to the hotel, the wine, the food, and unraveling the Rx puzzle had wiped me out
I fell asleep for an hour or more.
I got up long enough to finish the end of a bottle of Da Vinci Chianti that I started the night before and then conked out again.
Wednesday was relaxing. My doctors had gotten back to me confirming that they had sent prescription orders. I worked crosswords and sudoku.
Then I remembered there was other work to do. I spent a couple of hours plotting a start for the next leg of our wandering.
We hadn’t committed yet to anything after Phoenix. We had talked about pushing on to California, and finally decided on Wednesday to do that.
All things remaining as they are, we’ll head for the Coast Highway. I may have driven a short part of it years ago on a business trip to L.A. Getting there this time will mark a first for me: driving all the way across the continent.
I drove from Montclair to Phoenix a few years ago. The year I retired, we took off for six weeks on a trip that I had been planning for a long time to the Sioux and Cheyenne country. We got as far west as Bozeman, Montana, that time.
Now I have target stops in three cities, or maybe towns, in California—Blythe, Riverside, and Ventura. No reservations yet, but I have more than a week left in the Phoenix area, so there’s time.
We’ll take it in steps after that. Eventually, I expect to come back south and follow a southerly return route.
The big event for the day was dinner with my cousin Bill and cousin-in-law Dee Dee.
They took us to one of their favorite places, Mido Sushi in Chandler. The second we walked in, the owner, who was behind the counter rolling fish, shouted a hearty greeting to Bill and Dee. It was echoed by half the staff, most of whom are the owner’s relatives.
Bill took care of ordering. I had mentioned at some point that I was a big fan of sashimi, so there was a big plate of that. The various sushi rolls came in a dish shaped like a boat that was maybe a foot and a half long. It was full of rolls, some raw, some cooked, all excellent.
Bill ordered something called a sake bomb. It came as a vial of sake with a beer back. Dee Dee drank the sake, Bill the beer.
I drink sake once in a while, but decided on Chardonnay this time.
Back at their house, Dee Dee and Bill said they had a present for me. I get nervous when people give me presents, especially when I’m empty-handed.
It was a spur-of-the-moment idea on Bill’s part. He had read my remarks the other day about Robert Mondavi and his Cabernet Sauvignon.
When Bill saw some in a store, he bought a couple of bottles and put them into Christmas gift bags.
I started on one of the bottles as soon as I settled in back at the hotel.
It took two tries, by the way, to pick up those prescriptions. Earlier in the day, we drove to Walgreen’s on Scottsdale Road to find one was ready and the other still in the works. I came back later, after dinner, and finally they were both in my hands.
In my hands and off my mind.
Thursday was a special day: Joanna showed Natalie how to make turnip cake.
This is a dim sum specialty called lo bak go. It’s more like a thick pudding than a cake.
It consists of shredded daikon (a white radish about the size of my forearm) and flour. It’s flavored with a chopped-up pork sausage called lap cheong and a number of other ingredients including mushrooms, dried shrimp, and ground pork.
It isn’t baked, but steamed instead.
The flavor was a bit strong for some at the table, but most of us found it wonderful. For me, it was surprisingly so.
I’ve eaten lo bak go at dim sum restaurants, and it isn’t among my favorites. I don’t really like most dim sum dishes.
But this, made with love and served fresh, was a completely different experience. It was delicious—savory and full of rich flavors. I could taste that terrific sausage in it distinctly.
Another surprise was dinner, picked up at Super Dragon. The food was excellent. There was even a plate of chicken chow mein. Pan-fried noodles are one of my favorite Cantonese staples.
Along with that came Chinese broccoli, pea shoots, and chow fun.
Earlier in the day, Patrick offered me a beer. I saved it for dinner. It was an Allagash Belgian-style white, made with malt and oats and flavored with coriander and orange peel.
This was one of the best white ales I’ve tasted.
Friday was Christmas Eve and Joanna’s birthday.
We were due at Patrick and Kristin’s around two, so I had time to stop for wine. My supply was running dangerously low.
The first store was advertising beer, wine, and groceries. It was in fact a convenience store, and I was able to pick up another bottle of Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon.
But the selection was thin, so we moved on.
We came to a Safeway supermarket, where we braved the last-minute shopping lines. I picked up Campo Viejo Rioja Tempranillo, Gabbiano Golden Knight Chianti Classico, and Josh Cellars Cab.
It had been raining like hell all day and much of the wee hours before sunrise. When we started to get near Piestewa Peak, the new and more polite name for what used to be Squaw Peak, the crowns of the mountains were lost in thick clouds.
They looked like the jungled hills of northern Thailand. And we were in the Sonoran Desert.
At the house, Joanna resumed her tutorials on using an Android phone as a computer. She has a basic cellphone that she uses for calling. But now the Android, even without phone service, lets her e-mail and catch up on the news from Hong Kong even when I’m using my laptop.
She’s learning to take pictures, send pictures, make a music play list from YouTube, and scads of other skills. I have no idea how to do any of this myself. I can’t use anything without a real keyboard. My Mac Air is as mini as I can go.
Peter and Natalie, on the other hand, seem to use the phones naturally.
There are other signs of the difference among generations in all this. Joanna added Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” to her playlist. Peter, who is home from college for semester break, asked her if it was old people’s music.
Dinner was Joanna’s choice, which is almost always fish.
Kristin steamed filets and dressed them with a sauce that included julienned ginger and cilantro. The ginger had a delightful bite and the cilantro was about as fresh as anyone could imagine. After all, it was grown just outside the back door.
Talk about a kitchen garden, right?
The bok choi came from the same garden.
I had forgotten that fish was on the menu, so I didn’t remember to buy a white. I bought the Gabbiano to have with dinner instead, because Kristin—the only wine drinker besides me in the house—likes Chianti.
The dressing on the fish was flavorful enough to hold up to the wine.
The chocolates that came out for dessert are always good with a red.
Birthday gifts included a plate with the Han character for Joanna’s family name.
Kristin said she had to draw slowly to get the strokes right. She almost ran out of time, because she went to the ceramics shop in the evening and the place closes at nine.
I have a small storage box of clothes in the trunk, which has served as my personal closet ever since I became officially homeless. The plate will nestle easily in there and travel safe.
Good advice for everybody, I guess: Stay comfortable in your clothes and travel safe.
Love to all.
Harry and Joanna
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