You know, every city has its own rhythm. When people rise, when they eat, what and where they eat, the length of their commute — all the things that go into making up our daily lives. It's a rhythm.

Tucson — and, I suppose, all of Arizona — share the rhythm of being out of sync with most of the rest of the country. While the rest of us are locked into Daylight Saving Time, Arizona & Hawaii do not observe it. It's the heat, they say. It's hot. And we don't need any more of it. No matter how dry it is.

Okay. That means they're on Mountain Standard Time. So sunrise this morning, a few days after the summer solstice, was at 5:19am, as I mentioned before. Which means that the city — including the present visitor to the fair state of Arizona — gets an early start on the day.

Where all the people on the road were going this morning I have no clue because all the places I wanted to go to this morning to photograph in the beautiful light of the desert southwest were closed. Coffee shops, restaurants, art galleries (no surprise there), neighborhoods, everywhere I went was closed until the crack of 11am. Or later.

Except for a place that wasn't in the least crowded: Mother Hubbard's Cafe. I probably should have waited till much later in the day to eat but my stomach was growling like a grizzly and needed to be placated.

It was not to be. On a 10 scale, the food was only about a 4.5, the service was a 7 but I'm giving the cook a 3.5 (at best) for taking his sweet time. There were two other people in the cafe. Sure the eggs were poached but that's the way the were offered on the menu. 

So here I sit and I'm the drummer who is really the one out of sync. Dear God, please, give me the rhythm I so desperately need.