Canyon Lake, AZ to Phoenix, AZ
After the artsy cutesy of Silver City and the cutesy hipdy of Tuscon, our hopes for Phoenix were high, and that was our demise. Art Gallery Grace of Silver City warned us that we were Tuscon people, not Phoenix people, but we did not heed sufficiently.
We splishsplashed in the mildy cold Canyon lake through the morning. Lukas rediscovered his love for ukelele and the small, dead fish lining the shore danced to sad sandy conor oberst lines. Lukas cut my hair and we left it for the birds to build homes. The duck we dubbed Ralph Nader took a shit near our tent to request more farfalle, but we were out, so he took another. We decided it was time to go.
First stop in Phoenix was a library, to wifi our hearts content and decide where to sleep and what to see of the rising ornithist city. The temperature rose, desert storms rolled in and the day ticked away as we typed. We lost the day, but not in a pleasurable way. There was nowhere nearby to sleep and no time to see anything. This is when you phone a friend and we did. The friend was of the corporate variety, and carries bags of reward points for hotels around the globe. If you have one of these friends, you likely call them mom. So moms were called and boogey beds were acquired and no money was spent by any parties.
We ate pizza, we mourned the day, we missed Ralph, and we went to sleep.