Since moving to San Diego, I find myself growing soft. I eat donuts with greater frequency, so my belly is softer. I take constitutionals at night without mace, so my guard is softer. And I got acclimated to the southern California weather, so my temperature core got softer.
For the past 2 weeks now, we have been covered by a marine layer. It has made me cranky and vitamin D deficient. I hated work. I hated the boy and yelled at him on the phone. I found myself feeling sad and watching a lot of Bravo TV.
I called Evil Twin #2. "I want to go to Palm Springs. It is totally impractical." Her reply, "Sounds like a great idea." Sometimes, all you need is approval to let loose. So I packed up my Nissan Versa and headed out for the desert.
Palm Springs is 2.5 hours away. I stopped at a premium outlet mall along the way. I was perplexed by the throngs of European and Chinese tourists carrying suitcases with them going gaga over Tod's driving moccasins, Judith Liber clutches, Jimmy Choo stripper shoes, Zegna ties, and Gucci scarves. I tried shopping for an hour, but then gave up. It was a sunny day 85F with desert sun. I sat with a lemonade and watched people.
My next stop was Palm Desert and Palm Springs. I took a self guided tour of Mid-century modern houses. I have no idea what this term means except I saw a lot of houses with a lot of glass and learned someone named Lautner is awesome. (I will buy a book so I could feel a little less like a country rube.) Then I went into Palm Springs itself. I saw a collection of bakelite jewelry and other costume styles of the 20s. I also drove by 3 dialysis centers. I am not sure if my eyes are just in tuned with them, or there are just a lot of people who need dialysis in Palm Springs. At around of 3:30pm, I was feeling a little peckish. I stopped by one of the italian restaurants (there are a lot in Palm Springs each one claiming to once have served Al Capone) and ate a dinner special. That is right. I ate dinner at 3:30pm in Palm Springs.
After a large meal, I moseyed onto Dessert Hot Springs. This town is in the middle of nowhere. I mean there is the desert and this small town pops up like Brigadoon. My "hotel" was a 7 room yoga retreat place. In the center of the hotel was a pool. At one end was water that came out of the hotspring and was 168 degrees and as you went down the pool the water was cooler. According to the two old lesbians (naturally) who owned the place, the minerals in the water would heal almost every ailment you would have. I laid by the pool, getting in occasionally, as I waited for my treatment. I got a scalp massage, and then was ordered to shower immediately as not to contaminate the pool or the Frette sheets (I still don't know what Frette is, but that is also on my to do list today.) By that time it was late, so I went to for a late night soak. I stared at the stars, drank some champagne I bought at Trader Joe's, and listened to two girls talk about how bitchy their friend was and how awesome LA was. I stayed in the healing waters for 2 hours before going to bed at 9pm.
I awoke at 6 am. I could not believe how trippy the night had been. Before going to bed the old lesbians told me that nothing was more magical than floating in the pool as the sun rose. So I trudged to the pool. I put some cylinder floating things under my feet. I lay there staring at the crescent moon as the sun came up and painted the normally unattractive San Jacinto mountains a perfect shade of persimmon. It was a rather religious experience.
After the sun came up, an old Brazillian couple that were staying in the deluxe room asked me to join them in some morning yoga. Why not. I got some more sun, a little more soaking in the "healing waters." By 9:30am, I was ready to go back to marine layer. I drank a shot of wheat-grass and had some yogurt and was back on the desert highway.
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