The mountains stand out in the distance, a brilliant shade of deep blue. The sun tries to peek above the tip of the mountainous skyline. The air is cool, a dewy humidity competing with the dryness. Clouds that only hours ago lazily floated high in the air have lost altitude. The sky is a sheet of glass, glinting playfully with the rising sun.

The mountain range towers less than usual. Clouds have descended upon the peaks, covering the range from north to south. Having blocked the rising sun, they appear puffy, a light shade of blue. A light breeze passes through continuously, smoothing the surface of clouds. A wave crashing over rocks, moving in slow motion.

The sun persists. Shimmering rays appear, taunting the clouds and daring them to relent. A tiny crescent of the great star emerges. Though small, it reaches far and wide. In both directions, clouds are immediately lined a brilliant color palette, alternating gold and silver as the rays of the sun play off the clouds and misty air at the high altitude.

The air is crisp and still. Time slows down and falls away. Calm. Peaceful. Beautiful.

If you ever come across one of these delicious buildings, I highly recommend you bite, and go inside. Upon seeing the Toll House store whilst wandering Albuquerque Uptown with my friend Dr. Vina, it was all I could do to not lick the bricks of the building right then and there.

The overpowering smell of cookies was enough to make us decide to spoil our impending lunch a little bit by ordering what looked like harmless little snacks of mini chocolate chip cookies with white stuff and mini M&Ms surrounding them. And at a mere 99 cents each, said truffles seemed easily as harmless as a stick of celery. Maybe I’m exaggerating.

We probably really should have ordered celery, or at least that weird grass drink stuff some of those smoothie places sell. Despite my fairly sweet tooth, I bit into my little cookie sandwich and was met with a whipped cream that was so sugary it nearly killed all my taste buds upon contact. So while a ten-year-old might relish the intense feeling that is whipped cream instantly turning to butter in your mouth, it was way too much for me to handle. I think that spike in my glucose level should be my last such spike, preferably for the rest of my life.

The lesson to learn here: when you do go, don’t do what I did. Stick to a regular cookie or maybe some ice cream. You can thank me later.

Today was my youngest brother’s birthday. As a consequence, I joined the family, as well as some of their cronies, for dinner. Every family visit is unique these days, and I never know what to expect when I’m in their presence.

Tonight was interesting, to say the least. Just for kicks, I decided to throw the word gay into as many conversations as possible.

Brother: I think I’m going to get fetuccini alfredo.
Phil: I went to a gay bar-slash-restaurant in LA that had great fetuccini.

Brother: That bar gives me the creeps.
Phil: That’s because it’s not a gay bar.

Because I was the last person to arrive, I had prime seating at the very end of the table. I say “prime” because I was lucky enough to sit next to the birthday boy’s friend’s girlfriend. At the tender age of 19, she was very sweet and very innocent. Which made me want to corrupt her as much as I could in the two hours I was there.

Corrupting her was much more difficult than I had expected, however, as Girlfriend lacked the mental capacity to take a compliment.

Girlfriend: It’s so hard to get out of this chair with the pillar behind me.
Phil: At least you can sit there. My figure isn’t nearly as good as yours, so I have to sit here at the end of the table.
Girlfriend: Stop it!
Phil: …
Girlfriend: Don’t say that.
Phil: …

I have to say I was somewhat disappointed. I thought for sure that this girl, who managed to drag her macho boyfriend into the new lingerie store next door to a local bowling alley shortly after it opened, would be a little more savvy. I’m wondering if she’ll talk up the others about what a total jerk I am. Here’s hoping!

I’m still in Albuquerque, as I’ve noted previously, and thus I missed out on what could have been my first ever experience of an earthquake. I called up a good friend of mine there when I heard about it, and she was like, “Ho hum, the ground shook a bit, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. Good times.” I’m sure had I been there myself, I would have completely exaggerated the whole event in my head, and convinced myself that the ground shook so much it knocked me on my ass. But I wasn’t there, and so am still left without ever experiencing such a natural phenomenon.

What I did get to do today, though, was go out to lunch. Robert and I met up with a friend of ours neither of us had seen in far too long. When you meet up at 11:30 and don’t leave until 2:30, you know you’ve had a nice time.

At some point during the meal, I had to excuse myself to use the restroom. And, awkward as it is to admit this, I couldn’t resist taking a picture of something that caught my eye while there. Ever heard of Johnny Boards? (If not, it’s because they’re an Albuquerque company. I’m sure the concept can be seen elsewhere.) Basically, the concept is that an ideal placement for advertisements is in a place people always have to go: the John.

Normally, I don’t think much of it, but today was a different story. It pretty much speaks for itself.

And I think it definitely merited taking a picture in the restroom. Just saying.

It started out as one of those occasional catches of the eye. The kind where you make eye contact and some sense of familiarity is sparked, but usually as just a reminder of someone you knew in the past, nothing absolute. It’s meant to end there. Except in rare cases in which the opposing party decides to say “hey stranger” and move in for the kill.

At the time, I had no idea where I knew her from, and I was more than happy to keep it that way. After all, I wasn’t the one who went rushing up to hug me. I knew enough to know that if I only barely recognized the face, there was little point in trying to figure out where we knew each other from, much less try to catch up on the six or eight years it’s been since we’d last seen each other. My thought: if I don’t remember you well, I probably never knew you well.

Relief swept over me when her name was called to go into the clinic. Only she clawed viciously against the poor nurse and shouted her phone number to me and told me to call her. “I can’t hear you” was what I said as the door closed, and peace resumed in my little world once again.

Five minutes passed. A door opened and a nurse approached me. She handed me a piece of paper, upon which was scrawled a name and a phone number. Meghann.

As the day has drawn onward, the events have replayed themselves in my head. Images of high school have flashed before my eyes. Remembering events and faces I’d long ago put behind me, perfectly content to let them lie. And with all these memories, the face from the doctor’s office returns. Ah yes, I remember her well. Walking along the hallways before math class, and hearing her blather on about stories about her ROTC buddies and her girlfriends.

So much of my life has changed since those days, and suddenly I’m reminded of just how little I miss that time in my life. The phone number will remain on that paper, in all likelihood never to be dialed. So good to see you, but our brief contact will suffice. I’m very happy to let chance dictate our next encounter, rather than voluntarily make that happen. Until next time…

I’ve been in Albuquerque since Thursday. Having been back in LA for a week, which was basically enough time for me to move and sort of reestablish myself, I decided I still needed more time away. That, and my partner had to go back in for surgery again.

Friday was the big day. In other words, the beginning of a whole lot of sitting on my ass. There’s the waiting before, then the waiting during, followed by the waiting after (during recovery), and of course the waiting to leave. It’s taken a few days, but my ass is rebelling considerably less now than it was on Saturday. I guess that’s what I get for sleeping in a chair Friday night, but there’s no question that it was worth it.

One of the best parts of our one-night stay in the hospital was watching Robert wander the ward in search of chocolate. During our last stay in June, we managed to score chocolate ice cream. Riding on the wings of that success, as soon as the man was able to, he was up to walk around and on a mission to find the chocolate. Only to learn, though, that the nurses of our little realm scorned chocolate as bad for you, and instead encouraged patients to stick to vanilla or strawberry as they are more “healthy.” BULLSHIT, I SAY. Chocolate is every bit as fabulous for you, if not more. And besides, it’s ice cream, people. Oh, and just for the record, dark chocolate really can be good for you, even beyond the obvious psychological benefits.

We never did find that elusive chocolate ice cream, but fortunately the vanilla was crazy outstanding. Oh, all right; so was the strawberry. And, we did manage to find Carnation chocolate instant breakfast drinks. And since it was chocolate over breakfast, it fit the bill. Which leads me to the conclusion that chocolate, be it the act of devouring it or just searching desperately for it, is quite possibly the key to a speedy recovery and a better overall hospital stay. Trust me.

*Evidently I misspelled “chocolate” in the title originally. I’d spelled it “choLOClate.” Obviously the result of not getting enough chocolate in my diet.

Albuquerque, as a whole, is full of awesome people. It’s funny, but being back home has really reopened my eyes to this place, and reminded me why I love it so much. It’s not perfect, however, and has its share of people who have asses for brains.

As Robert and I have made our way through the past week, we’ve encountered more than our fair sure of some pretty amazing jerks. Based on actual experiences, here’s a short “how to” list for your reading pleasure. I call it…

HOW TO BE A TOTAL ASSHOLE (Part 1)*

1. Accuse patrons seated at the table next to yours of stealing your condiments. Eager for some high quality fast food, Robert and I stopped for lunch at a combination A&W Long John Silver’s. Whilst consuming our delicious meal, a Registered Asshole walked over and sat down at the adjacent table. He left at one point, then returned and muttered “The least you could do is ASK” loud enough for us to hear. And then the bitch glared at us. When we finally asked, he accused us of taking the Malt Vinegar from his table. Because we have nothing better to do, right? And the idiot wasn’t observant enough to see that we’d had one on our table the whole time he was there. I would have smacked him if it weren’t for all the children present.

2. Turn your car around so you can drive the wrong way in the one-way lane AT THE HOSPITAL. We had to stop to pick up some medicine for Robert at the hospital. While walking to the building, we noticed a woman trying to turn around after just dropping someone off. I decided to be nice and shout “IT’S A ONE WAY, BITCH!” at the top of my lungs. She continued to turn, so both Robert and I started waving and pointing the one way the street was to go. She freaked and started pointing to the parking lot entrance, and we responded in kind by pointing our middle fingers at her. I would have thrown myself onto the hood of her car to make my point, but decided we were already making enough of a scene as it was.

*This could well become a recurring segment. Stay tuned for more in the near future.

I very nearly had an affair with a taco today. Due to my status as a mostly-kosher Jewish New Mexican, I don’t really eat tacos. We headed down to a little New Mexican restaurant for lunch today.

Feeling adventurous, and no longer like I was about to die from overdosing on eggplant parmesan last night, I decided to eat a form of taco the likes of which I’d never before seen. A CHILE RELLENO TACO. First, you have the brilliance that is chile rellenos. Take that fried sexiness and toss it into a crunchy taco shell, and you have, to borrow an overused aphorism, love at first bite.

If chile relleno tacos was money, I’d probably never want to buy anything. I’d more than likely be broke anyway because I would eat every single one in sight. A part of me was tempted to ask the server if she could just bring out a plateful of at least fifty of those puppies so that I could spend the rest of the week eating them. With that many to eat, the dilemma of choosing whether to take small bites and savor the whole taco versus taking large bites and experiencing that rich explosion of flavor, would be an issue no longer.

My trip home this time around was not entirely vacation-related; Robert had surgery yesterday, so we’ve spent the last two days at the local hospital. All went well, and after spending the night there last night, he’s back home and doing the one thing the hospital environment didn’t allow him to do: sleeping.

The two of us had experiences that were, to say the least, different. For one thing, all the good television was on before Robert even went in for surgery. We had the pleasure of watching Maury and Jerry Springer when we first got there, two shows that, if nothing else, make for amazing conversation pieces.

But then he got carted off to surgery, and during that time, I had to stay behind in the waiting room, wishing that they could share some of the happy juice he got for the surgery. First, there was the whole part of waiting. And waiting. And waiting. To the point that I was intimately familiar with the clocks in the waiting room.

Then there was the problem of some fellow waiters who decided to change the channel on the TV. You know, to something “light-hearted”, like America’s Funniest Most Fucked Up/Lame Home Videos and some other shows that showed people’s pet hamsters eating food, replete with poorly conceived voice-over captions like “…And this hamster is hungry enough to eat a horse.” And then they’d just loop the video and play a laugh track.

When we finally got a room all set, and hoped that it would be a good because that way Robert could rest, get some sleep, and speed up the whole recovery process. Only remember that sleep thing I mentioned above? I’d like to say, just for the record, that hospital rooms should all be individual rooms, or else they should invent some fucking soundproof curtains.

As luck would have it, Robert got set up with the perfect roommate: a poor guy who I learned (via eavesdropping) had just had stomach surgery. He was gaunt and thin, with long disheveled hair and a scruffy six-inch-long beard. I figured either he had decided to spend three months wandering the woods opting not to eat anything, or else he was perhaps an addict. To what, I don’t know. But when he wasn’t being swarmed by nurses drawing blood, he was either a) in bed groaning and wailing, b) in bed clicking buttons and changing his bed settings, c) standing up to walk around, or d) standing up and pulling off his hospital gown.

One of my favorite parts of the ordeal was the ice cream. It was fun walking the halls together and trying one of each of the chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream cups they had. It certainly was more peaceful than hearing the guy wailing in the hospital room, and helped pass the time too. It’s amazing how tiring this all is, and as I’m typing this I’m fading quickly. And, this “Flower Power” infomercial isn’t helping me any, either.

I’ve been back in Albuquerque for one day so far. It’s amazing to be home, and I’ve found I’ve missed a lot more of the city than even I had realized. For instance, I love the way clouds form here. And it’s amazing how blue the sky is. That’s probably in part because I’m a mile closer to the sun than I am in LA, and partly because LA has SMOG. Not to mention twice as many cars as people.

Staying up ridiculously late Tuesday night (until almost 3:30), and then getting up at 4:45, was proven 200% worth it when I walked through the door past security and saw my partner standing there awaiting my arrival. I got stuck walking behind a woman who couldn’t seem to decide if she should actually risk exiting the area. She showed her indecision by shuffling constantly from left to right, thus making it impossible for me, bogged down with a bag slung across one shoulder and a suitcase dragging along behind me, to deftly football tackle her and leap into Robert’s arms like a crazed cheerleader.

It’s been great to run all over town. I’ve found it especially wonderful to know how to get around without once getting lost in the process. Sure I’m not driving, but I know this place like the back of my hand. (Funny side note: the first time I ever used the ‘back of my hand’ simile… I was probably 13 or 14, and thought I was being savvy beyond belief. Only since I said “I know [insert smart noun here] like the back of my HEAD,” I proved to the world that I didn’t know shit.)

What’s one of the best things to do when you go home? If you answered “Go to the dentist!”, you lose. That doesn’t mean I didn’t go. Because I did. No, it wasn’t wonderful. My teeth are white and shiny now, but in order to get there I had to lay back in that dentist chair for a full hour. It probably wouldn’t have taken quite so long if I hadn’t been on the verge of falling asleep the whole time. That bright white light was shining in my eyes, so I was like, “Fuck this, I’m closing my eyes.” Only I’m still kinda tired from all the lost sleep the other night, which means my hygienist had to tell me “Turn your head this way” and “Open your mouth wider” 3 or 4 times a minute. I don’t remember, exactly, but I think most of my replies consisted of me either grunting or drooling.

Now, if you answered “Go see Sex and the City with your honey,” please step away from the computer, stand up, and jump up and down and whoop a few times. Sure we were a week late, but it was well worth the wait. I wasn’t sure how well the show would look in the form of a movie, but I was pleasantly surprised. It stood on its own well enough that someone completely unfamiliar with the show would be able to follow the movie. If you’re a faithful fan and have seen every episode of the show, there’s lots of gritty inside story and far and away enough new juicy gossip to complement the old. And if you’re a casual viewer like me, you probably would have been like, “HOLY SHIT, I REMEMBER THAT EPISODE WHERE CHARLOTTE MET THAT GUY AND WAS HATING THAT SHE LOVED HAVING SEX WITH HIM BECAUSE SHE AT FIRST FOUND HIM SO UGLY.” And you’ll think it in all capital letters and bad grammar, just like me.

Here’s a few things I found myself thinking about during the movie for no reason whatsoever.

1. Yay for tasteful use of nudity! One word: sushi.
2. You know that mole Carrie Bradshaw brandishes on her chin? I don’t follow Sarah Jessica Parker enough to know if that’s real or a character trait for the part, but I’m fairly certain that at one point during the movie it was on the left side of her face, while the rest of the time it was on the right side.
3. What on earth is going on with Chris Noth (a.k.a. “Mr. Big”)’s chest hair? That one patch of hair in the middle of his chest seems strangely out of place. Just saying.

If you haven’t seen the movie yet, hurry up and go see it. Whether or not you like it, or find it worthwhile cinema, it’s well worth seeing because it offers something for everyone. It’s smart and funny and catty and gossipy and emotional. Just don’t buy a 75-ounce soda to share with your partner. Because you’re not going to want to get up for one moment for fear of missing some really juicy gossip, and you’ll end up doing like I did, clenching your legs together and then having to bunny hop your way to the bathroom once the movie is over, all the while fearing that your bladder will suddenly explode.