If you see today’s post a little later than usual, kindly forgive me, I’m not quite yet into the groove of my winter quarters here in Tucson. For one thing, the time zone is different, and I am asleep and awake at off-hours. I do not enjoy being wide awake when it is still dark outside, and rather than bounding from my bed to greet the new day, I must force myself to lie prone until the first light starts peeking over the distant mountains.

I am not yet thoroughly acclimated to the lay of the land, but I am not a complete novice at navigating the place either after spending the past two winters in it. Back home, we have an easy-to-follow grid pattern of north-south and east-west streets, interspersed with convenient diagonals.  Here, everything seems to run at odd angles, and major street names can change suddenly and without warning.

Indeed, Tucson has a slapped-together feel, like an old suit that has been badly patched. Poorly maintained local streets can be rough on vehicles, especially on one being operated by an unwary motorist who drives with heavy feet. This season I am determined I will avoid another flat tire.

After but a few days since my arrival I can happily report that my location is much improved compared to prior visits. Every convenience and amenity are nearby, and the house where Lola and I are ensconced is a major upgrade. I had been expecting the worst since I am cynical by nature but also because the absentee owner struck me as less than forthcoming in answering specific questions about the house and neighborhood.

I am convinced one of my mistakes these past two winters was that the accommodations I had rented were better suited to a short-term visit than my annual two-month hiatus. Two months is sufficient time to discover every wart and blemish. Trust me.  Amazingly, Robyn always manages to identify and point out each one to me in the course of her brief stay with us.

I am thrilled because the current digs are much larger and better-appointed.  Hopefully, I will still feel this way next month after Robyn departs.

My yard is large and walled, perfect for Lola the pup. I enjoy the lemon tree, which is in bloom with ripe fruit. In this dusty climate, we enjoy a respite of soothing green attributable to the lawn being artificial.  I initially thought this feature was bizarre, a lawn like the texture and color of a miniature golf course, until yesterday when I was visiting my friends, Sherry and Tom. They live in an upscale housing development, which features patches of real grass, a rarity in these parts. When I described my new circumstances, they told me there was a move afoot at their association to replace this natural lawn with artificial turf to preserve precious water. For reasons no one seemed sure of, this movement was being opposed by other members of the association who have small dogs. Regardless, I swelled with pride knowing I unintentionally was on the cutting edge of environmental protectionism.

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I am chalking up my good fortune to the fact that my housing budget this year is sixty percent higher than in past seasons, proving you get what you are willing to pay.  Don’t misunderstand.  While I love digital shopping coupons as much as the next guy, my friends helped convince me to open the purse strings this year by reminding me I have no kids to support and that I am moderately well off compared to many.  After much agonizing on my part these past months, it would appear they were right.

Let the fun begin!