Retirement Heaven/Hell

Sun City, Ariz., is the most unreal place on the planet. The city basically was single-handedly designed, created and built a few decades ago by a developer named Del Webb, who wrought on the Phoenix suburban landscape thousands of nearly identical condos, apartments and homes laid out in tidy rows with interiors custom designed for the 55 and older crowd, which is 80 percent of the people who live here.

We almost got lost coming in because everything looks the same. The president of the homeowners association let us in. He and his wife have been together since 1948, when they met in high school, and they've lived here nearly from the start, more than 30 years. This condo is owned by Liz's uncle through an inheritance arrangement that isn't worth going into here.

Uncle Jimmy has our eternal gratitude for letting us crash here a couple nights while we breathe in the dry, 107-degree Arizona air. The place is sparsely decorated but cozy enough. I'm sitting on a relaxing couch. Going easy on my rear end after our marathon plane ride, which almost didn't happen because of one of the airlines' pesky overbooking fiascoes.

But that's all behind us now, and the vacation lifestyle won't be hard to get used to. They even upgraded us to a Hyundai Santa Fe at the rental dealership — much larger than we need and much less efficient, but what the heck. The Southwest can turn us into gas-guzzlers for a week,

Well, gotta go. I think Liz has found a roadrunner and her chicks in the courtyard. Seriously. (So cool.)

Afternoon update: Upon further review, seems those birds aren't roadrunners, but rather Gambel's quail. Boy, were we fooled. But we haven't given up on the hunt for a real roadrunner. Beep-beep!