My post about spring break planning got me thinking of our trip to Phoenix two years ago when Matt and I slipped away for a few nights while the boys had fun with Grandma and Grandpa. One of the fun things we did was visit the Desert Botanical Garden which at the time was hosting a Dale Chihuly exhibition. I loved the whimsy of his work (especially the sculptures that resembled giant ice cubes floating around on a 90-degree day) and the way it often looked organic to the environment, as if the desert floor had suddenly decided to sprout brightly colored glass cacti.

This is the rare post on my blog with no photos of children in it. I consider it the visual equivalent of those days off that Matt and I enjoyed!

For Photo Friday at Delicious Baby.

In honor of Mother’s Day, which is celebrated in the United States this Sunday, I thought I’d share this picture of a very maternal sculpture from our recent trip to Arizona. While we were there, Matt and I left the boys with his parents for a couple of days and slipped away for some kid-free fun, which include a trip to Frank Lloyd Wright’s house, studio, and architecture school in Scottsdale named Taliesin West.

The artist who made this sculpture is named Heloise Crista; she was a student of Wright and the very first sculpture she ever made was a bust of him that is displayed in the living room of Taliesin West. She still lives on on the property (we actually saw her eating lunch with students from the architecture school immediately after I took this photo) and many of her other sculptures are on display there as well. I wasn’t able to find the name of the sculpture, or much information about Crista online. I love the encircling image of the mother here, perhaps Mother Earth, and the way that the children are reaching for her loving face.

I share this post as part of Photo Friday at Delicious Baby. Please stop over there to see all of the other wonderful travel pictures. And Happy Mother’s Day!

So I think I’ve made no secret of the fact that I loves me a good burger. And fries. Oh, and if you want to throw in a milkshake, I won’t argue with you. But I’m also a fan of all that is local and organic and I like to support small businesses. On our spring break trip to Arizona, I think I may have discovered the utopian place to satisfy both sides of my personality (and interestingly enough, it’s called Agritopia. More on that later).

Joe’s Farm Grill in Gilbert, Arizona just outside Phoenix is situated on what used to be a small family farm that grew things like cotton and sorghum. Rather than abandon the land to the sprawl that is to be found everywhere in that area (I swear every time we go out there that someone is planting house and drug-store seeds) the Johnston family has turned it into a thriving farm cum restaurant cum produce stand cum coffee bar. Most of the vegetables served in the restaurant come from the organic farm on the premises and most of the other food is locally sourced.

There were six of us and we had spent a long day at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum working up an appetite, so we had to make sure we ordered enough food:

I had the Ahi Tuna burger topped with Asian slaw and it was divine – my one quibble is that even though the tuna was rare, it could have been cooked even a bit less than it was. But that was mitigated by the phenomenal onion rings, the deep fried broccoli and cauliflower, and the vanilla bean milkshake. Also divine was Matt’s barbeque chicken grilled pizza.

They are open for breakfast too. And on the menu are Waffles and Ribs (the natural parenthetical phrase for that one is of course “together at last”). I know that I would have to order the six mini apple fritters rolled in cinnamon sugar. In fact, when I’m done writing this post I may need to check out ticket prices to Phoenix for next weekend.

Whatever meal you enjoy, when you’re done eating, you can rouse yourself from your food coma and take a stroll through the Edenic acre of land that produces the vegetables you just devoured.

Or maybe you want to roll on over to the coffee shop

and sip a latte on the lovely patio, which is surrounded with roses.

And if you stay long enough, you may even find yourself hungry again for these.

The main restaurant and coffee shop sit in a sort of enclosed compound. The grounds are lovely and inviting to children, even if they can’t climb the extremely tempting tree that dominates the backyard of the main restaurant for fear of scorpions.

Cotton has been planted in a small plot near the coffee shop to show what the farm used to grow. This delighted Tommy, who plucked some and brought it home to show his class. There’s also a produce stand:

So if you’re feeling virtuous on your way out, you might purchase some fruits and veggies to bring home. Then you can pretend that the entire adventure was purely for your family’s health. You unselfish thing you.

A few other things to love about Joe’s:

• Their branding, which is pure genius. Love, love, love all the logos – and the fact that they call the place “Agritopia”
• The breezy and stylish interior of the restaurant – which used to be the family home and still has a fireplace where the den used to be
• They exceed the USDA Organic Standards in their farming practices

You’ll find Joe’s Farm Grill at 3000 East Ray Road in Gilbert, Arizona. I recommend saving room for an ample meal. Or perhaps two.

This post is for Wanderfood Wednesday at Wanderlust and Lipstick. I hope you’ll check out the other food-related posts over there.

Overheard in the Ancient Arizona fossil dig:

Teddy: “Did you know I’m going to be a paleontologist?”

Blond little girl: “Of course not. I just met you.”

Teddy: “Well I am. And I’m practicing. For when I’m all grown up. Look at that sign! It says what we can find here. Do you want to look too?”

Blond little girl: “Oh.” Pause. “Well, bye.”

Clearly he needs to work on his patter – or he’s going to be one lonely paleontologist.

We had a great time at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum and saw any number of snakes, gila monsters, scorpions, hummingbirds, and saguaros, just to mention a few of the many diverse animal and plant species the desert has to offer. The view alone was worth the drive from Phoenix to Tucson.

These pictures are for Photo Friday at Delicious Baby. And on an unrelated note, I’m happy to announce that this is my 300th post! (Cue balloons and confetti.) If you’ve never visited before, I invite you to take a little time to explore some of my previous 299 travel stories and advice using the links in the left sidebar.

]]> http://www.motherofalltrips.com/2010/04/practicing-paleontology-at-the-arizona-sonora-desert-museum.html/feed 10 http://www.motherofalltrips.com/2010/04/dispatches-from-the-road-tips-for-crossing-the-desert.html http://www.motherofalltrips.com/2010/04/dispatches-from-the-road-tips-for-crossing-the-desert.html#comments Thu, 08 Apr 2010 04:36:12 +0000 admin http://www.motherofalltrips.com/?p=4114

On Easter afternoon, we loaded up our gear and headed from Los Angeles to Phoenix, where Matt’s parents live. And no, we weren’t on camels. Although we might have been better off if we were.

Here’s my brilliant travel tip of the week: When you’ve been driving through desert for about four hours in a rented Jeep SUV that shifts like a golf cart and smells like oil and you’ve finally crossed the state line and pass a bunch of big signs saying “Gas!” and you look at the dashboard and there’s just over a quarter of a tank left, don’t think idly to yourself that you had better stop the next exit and fuel up and then zip by singing along to whatever your Pandora station happens to be playing, Dionne Warwick for example.

We drove and drove and drove, and the needle continued of course to go down at an alarming rate. Then we passed a sign saying that the next town, Tonopah, was 25 miles away. There was no mention of whether or not there might be a gas station there. I looked around – nothing but saguaros and yellow wildflowers as far as the eye could see.

Casually, I reached over and turned the air conditioning off, hoping that Matt wouldn’t notice and maybe the gage would hold steady. He made no comment, and for a few miles I thought maybe I was OK.

Then the low-gas light flashed on with a loud ding. “What’s that? Oh boy!” Matt exclaimed, playing Bing Crosby to my Bob Hope. “Oh boy! You better slow down.”

So I did, pulling in behind an RV going about 60 miles an hour (the speed limit was 75). And for the next 25 minutes I prayed “don’trunoutofgas, don’trunoutofgas, don’trunoutofgas” while car after car after semi came roaring up behind us, whipping over into the left lane at what seemed always like the last possible safe moment. Matt, meanwhile, was desperately trying to figure out how to get the MapQuest app on my iPhone to tell him where the nearest gas might be. To his credit, he spoke not one word of blame, but I could tell from the set of his jaw that it was taking all of his muscular control not to do so.

Periodically from the backseat one of the boys would ask “Are we going to run out of gas?” Neither of them seemed genuinely concerned that it would happen – I think they were more worried about the tension that suddenly dominated the front of the car. I could barely watch the road, my eyes were so fixed on that needle, willing it with all my power not to sink any lower.

For those of you planning this same journey, I will tell you this: Tonopah does have several gas stations, one of which we coasted into on fumes. And my marriage is still intact. And the boys are unscarred. In fact, sensing my weakness and distraction in the mini-market of the gas station, they each conned a huge soda and then proceeded to get completely drunk on high-fructose corn syrup for the rest of the ride.

I’m not one for making categorical vows, but with the Interwebs as my witness, I promise you that from now on that anything near a quarter of a tank = empty.

They don’t look all that scared, do they?

This picture is a preview of the catch up work I need to do from some of our spring travel.  It was taken outside of the Arizona Museum of Natural History, a favorite spot that we make sure to visit every time we’re in Mesa. Inside there are models of dinosaurs which look much more realistic and which sent my Little Chick scurrying. They also had an exhibit about poop, and really, what can be better for a seven-year-old boy than that?

I hope to blog about a number of day trips like this one in the next couple of weeks before we leave on our big summer road trip. A day-trip-a-looza if you will, from Arizona to Philadelphia to Wilmington, Delaware.

But for now, I leave you with two happy boys and one big purple plant-eating dino. For Photo Friday at Delicious Baby. Please visit there to see the many other wonderful travel photographs on display.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know my children have never met a carousel that they didn’t like.This is equally true in Paris and in Gilbert, Arizona, where they enjoyed several rides at the Freestone Railroad Park.

It was indeed a dreamy couple of days. We lazed by the pool, soaked in the gorgeously landscaped outdoor Jacuzzi, enjoyed our own private balcony, and went for a stunning hike in the surrounding desert hills. The Copperwynd is built into the side of a mountain northeast of Scottsale and Phoenix and has been cleverly designed so that every room, both public and private, to say nothing of the two swimming pools and the aforementioned Jacuzzi, take full advantage of the view that is spread out beneath it.

Our room, which I booked for under $200 a night as part of the weekly Tuesday sale at hotels.com, had a king-sized bed with those requisite luxury Italian high thread-count sheets, a fireplace with a gas log, and a huge closet. It was blessedly quiet and in the morning the air was full of birdsong. The bathroom was enormous and had a deep tub that we put to good use (so nice to give myself and not anyone else a bath!). The picture at the top of this post is the view from our balcony.

With the exception of the room itself, nothing at the Copperwynd was cheap, but everything was of a uniformly high quality. Both the service and food in the restaurant (where we ate two breakfasts and one dinner) were excellent. I particularly like the breakfast menu, which includes such treats as Grand Marnier French toast and a frittata with chorizo that was so good Matt ate it twice. The wine list is small but interesting with a good range of prices. And the entire wall of the restaurant is made of windows, so even if it’s too chilly to sit outside on the patio you can still look at the mountains while you eat.

The resort offers many things that we didn’t take advantage of, including a full fitness center with lots of equipment and classes. There are also tennis courts (with private coaching) as well as numerous nearby golf courses. I didn’t make it inside the spa (rumor has it there were steam rooms in there) but did sit in the sunny manicure room, where I indulged myself in a manicure/pedicure provided by the cheerful, chatty Edna who hails from San Juan but has lived all over and had many stories to share. After paraffin treatments the skin on my hands and feet felt like silk and I was reduced to a kind of mellow bliss that made it challenging just to climb the stairs and find Matt so I could get to the all-important task of continuing to admire the view while drinking a margarita.

It was easy enough to drive into both Scottsdale and Phoenix from the resort – we went to dinner in Scottsdale one night and to the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix on our last morning. But it would also be very easy just to retreat to this mountainside with some wine and bread and cheese (the room also came equipped with a refrigerator) and not leave for days. You could spend your time reading, relaxing, and exploring the surrounding desert, communing with the ever-present saguaros.

I know that this all sounds wonderful and fantastic and that you’re probably thinking “Thanks a lot Mara, it’s not like I can drop a wad of cash at a fancy resort anytime soon or get anywhere near the Sonoran Desert.” But this post isn’t just meant to be a review of this particular resort. Rather, it’s a call to all of you parents out there, especially the traveling ones who cheerfully take their children every cool place they themselves go. I highly recommend arranging a getaway just for you and your significant other (or, if you’re single, for you and a friend or even just for you alone). It doesn’t have to be as expensive and hedonistic as this one was – if pitching a tent in your local state park or staying at a motel in a nearby city are more your style, go for it. The idea is simply to get a little bit of travel time away from the kids, time where you can be completely on your own schedule and don’t have to think about all the kinds of logistics that this blog traffics in. A time away from home when you can eat what you want when you want it, sleep as much or as little as you want, and just generally do what feels good to you. It doesn’t have to be a long time either – just two days and one night will do wonders. (Although I heartily recommend two nights if you can swing it. There’s something magical about that second morning of waking up on your own schedule.)

I know how challenging it can be to find a way to get away. I don’t have any family members living super close by, and between my kids and my  job and this blog and various other sundry projects I’m pretty busy. But let me assure you, it is worth the bother and the expense to arrange for this kind of time. And neither of my children is ever any the worse for it. In fact, they’re better off for having two refreshed and happy parents. The effect lasts for weeks – whenever I find myself getting stressed out, all I have to do is remember those two glorious mornings when I dozed for hours, listening to those desert birds.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to close my eyes and imagine I’m sitting in that outdoor hot tub. Oh yeah. That’s the ticket.

[One quick family-travel note: I actually do think that this would be a great place to bring the kids. The family pool is perfect for children of all ages and there is a Kids Club with planned activities, which judging from our experience with all of the staff and the other amenities there, is probably super. About five minutes away in Fountain Hills, there is a fabulous playground right by the large fountain and the hike that Matt and I did would be manageable for kids of all ages. But I honestly don't think I'm ever going to find out first-hand if this is a family-friendly place because we have already decided that this little getaway needs to become an annual tradition for us.]

My tip today is really super simple. It’s for all you intrepid traveling parents. All of you who love to throw baby into a backpack and hit the trail. All of you who bring your children to the fabulous hotels in great cities and teach them to eat foie gras off of china plates. I love you all. I admire you all. I tell you all: YOU MUST DO SOME TRAVELING WITHOUT YOUR KIDS!

Matt and I stole away for a delicious 36 hours on this trip. Included in our sojourn was a visit to the Desert Botantical Garden, a place I had planned to take the children. And I will. Next year. This year, I got to watch all of the other parents hauling around their sweaty offspring, stopping to provide snacks and water, and having to leave before they were ready. Me? I felt a little guilty. But just a little. Mostly I felt happy to cover every inch of the garden without worrying about someone else’s legs getting tired, to take tons of pictures of the amazing Dale Chihuly sculptures on exhibit, and even (gasp) to venture into the gift shop.

For Photo Friday at Delicious Baby. I hope you’ll stop by there to see the other pictures.

I wrote earlier in the week about jet lag and how tricky it can be to go backwards in time (i.e., in a westerly direction). One effect of the ensuing exhaustion was that the fabulous outing to the Heard Museum I had planned didn’t pan out very well. We did indeed ride the Light Rail from Mesa into Phoenix as I had thought we might. But I hadn’t quite counted on the length of the ride or the fact that it would induce torpor in my overtired offspring. By the time we got to the museum, the kids were cross-eyed and I was just cross and we really weren’t able to appreciate it as we might have otherwise.  The museum was fascinating and beautiful and there were lots of opportunities for hands-on learning, but when little hands are too tired to function properly, not too much learning happens. Then we were foiled in our lunch plans when the fry bread restaurant where we had planned to lunch proved to be a pretty long hike from the light rail stop. It was a windy day and the kids just couldn’t hoof it anywhere. And so my dreams of sharing food and artifacts that were native to the region in one adventurous outing were not to be realized.

So what learning experience worked better? Spending a good part of one morning picking oranges and grapefruits just outside the door to Grandma and Grandpa’s house (while wearing pajamas no less) and then making gallons of juice. Tommy stood at the counter for at least a half an hour, concocting a delicious citrus blend. “Mommy, you’ve got to try this one!” he’d yell over the sound of the juicer, “I made it special for you – more orange juice than grapefruit.”

Or “Daddy, this is my best one yet! It’s so good!”

And finally, with a glow of satisfaction, “Boy I sure am good at making juice aren’t I?”

I’m not saying that one should forgo museums that teach about local peoples and customs while traveling with kids, but it’s important to remember also that sometimes experiencing little differences, things you as a grown up might overlook, are as satisfying and exciting for children as an exhibit of beautiful pots or kachina dolls. We certainly have no grove of citrus trees in our backyard. It was an adventure simply because it was unusual to us. And the best part? Free refills!