Sometimes, we get gifts plunked in out laps when we least expect it. Well, the fact that my father was not well enough to travel 3000 miles away on a bumpy airplane ride was not the gift. However, he and mom could not get out of a lease on a condo they had rented , so we took over part of it. They were grateful that we were able to use the place they rented, to get out of the cold brr and ice of Pennsylvania. We were grateful to have a spot in the sun, as unexpected as this gift was. Our kids were jealous, but as I told them, we paid our dues for 19 years, and now it was our turn to go live life and have fun. We really worked hard to shovel our kids into college, right? So away we flew.
Our destination was Palm Springs, California. I am a seasoned mellow traveler. Hubby, not so much. However, without him, I'd probably forget my purse, my glasses, my money, etc. So we make a great team. We got to the airport in Philthy, which is true to its name, then off we went to our first stop: Salt Lake City, Utah. This is the land of pretty, sporty people, and Mormons with straight white teeth. Everyone was smiley and why not, they are surrounded by gorgeous mountains and ski to breakfast I suppose. They are looked too healthy and everyone seemed to favor hiking boots and knit beanies. I sashayed through in my black puffy Calvin Klein coat, and clogs. I just read NYC, what can I say. Got a coffee, and then bingo! we were delayed 4 hours. Maybe it had something to do with getting their teeth whitened.
Finally, we got onto our next leg and flew to Palm Springs. I felt so uber glam, getting off the plane onto the tarmac, the 70 degree heat thawing my bones and my face sponging up the Vitamin D. And the palm trees swaying in the breeze as you march over past the hideous bust of Sonny Bono and collect the luggage and rent the cars. They are very smiley in Palm Springs. Their accents are super cute and they were thrilled that we were there renting a car. "Does everyone enjoy their jobs here?" i thought. The answer is yes.
We drove our behemoth SUV to the gated communities of Palm Desert, which are basically suburban sprawl California Style. I think the middle aged me likes the safety and carefree lifestyle there. The gas and the groceries are horribly expensive, but we still managed to have a great time despite our wallet becoming lighter. We ran to Trader Joes, got some overpriced organic crap, and some ready made dinners, and plopped ourselves into the arms of our landlord, who stopped into make sure we were alive. And let us in! No names, but he is a script writer for many reality shows in Hollywood, and of course did we hit it off. He was so cool that we decided to have breakfast with him and yap about the area etc.
We went to a cute Belgian Spot called, Si Bon, and of course, I ordered the "wrong" thing. StillI, I did not care, and I was just dealing with the time change, or so I thought. I was not feeling well. Then I was sick with RSV for about 2 weeks, coughing my lungs out, and having to go to a walk in clinic. Not a great start to it all, but I used the time to get my book together, and feed our ducks, who I accidently trained to love Cheerios, and catch them mid air. Apparently, I can train animals too. Hubby loved this. He was thrilled to have me by his side, and was very understanding. For our first stop we went to Shield's Date Farm, for date shakes, a movie entitled (I kid you not) " The Sex Life of The Date", and of course the bible park in back, with a café and statues of Jesus and his pals, frozen in plaster, in situ acting out carious scenes from the New Testament. I walked through all of the flora and fauna, fish, birds, citrus trees (which came with a stern warning that we might be arrested for picking the fruit! How biblical!) All whilst noisily slurping a coffee pre date shake.
I dragged myself out of bed to enjoy the nearby Desert Swap Meet, which is sort of like a flea market with new merch and food trucks. Many of the trucks looked less than appetizing, but I did manage to wait for a very long time for some meh tacos. Half of Winnipeg was there, sitting in chairs, sipping on date shakes, and just looking really really old. It is a thing for Midwestern Canooks to drive down to PS. You see all the plates with "Friendly Manitoba," Alberta, and tons of Saskatchewan folks, all bearing down the gas pedal to escape the frigid Great white North. Look. If you don't want to be a shut in, or having your hip replaced from a fall, or dealing with crippling arthritic joints, you MUST leave. Hence why I was looking at half of the population with walkers and canes. These are are the golden years I suppose. Personally, I would decorate my walker with stick on jewels and a mickey mouse bell, ya know, just cuz.
Still feeling like xxt, Bruce took me to Handel's ice cream stand, which supplied us with 4 kids of ice cream in a plastic tray, and I literally worked on that for the month. He ordered a pizza from Stuft, which was the best pizza have EVER eaten. My scale was losing its mind. I think my husband is actually a Jewish mother in disguise.
I was born in California, but left as a tot. It is like the Salmon coming home to spawn or something. I always feel so at home in CA. The people, the environments, the weirdness of it all, somehow feels right. Hubby was up for an adventure, so we went out to the desert, to a place called Salvation Mountain, plus hit the hot spot of East Jesus, and wandered around the art, the installations, the prep for Burning Man festivals, and the really strange abandoned (sort of) accidental lake of the Salton Sea, in all its toxic scary glory. We met Wizard, keeper of all thing wacky at Slab City, and walked around the abandoned cars, TV towers, and general Sxxt nailed together in the name of art.
We also managed to make it to Joshua Tree, another bucket list thing, and took an actual real hike post Hip Replacement, and nearly killed myself doing it. I managed to enjoy some serious exercise, saw some crazy plants and bizarre boulders right out of the Flintstones, and then topped it off with real Mexican food at my fave place called, strangely enough, Salsa's, which is right when you come into Palm Springs off 111.
We did manage to go to Palm Springs, but I was not impressed. It is lots of retro stuff crammed into a downtown that resembles a midwestern mall, coupled with gawkers and Times Square. Throw in some drag queens on open air buses giving tours and there you have it. Yawn. We skedaddled out of there after having a glorious birthday dinner courtesy of my folks, at Le Valois. Yes, the ritzy titzy folks were there in all their straw hatted glory, and us. The pear with roquefort is to die for. I was also halfway into a bottle of champagne, which is free. I happily wobbled to the car.
