What’s it like to be young in the desert? Features reporter Maggie Downs is living the life, and she’s ready to share all she’s learned in her short tenure as a California girl.
About This Blog
Ohio native Maggie Downs moved to the Coachella Valley in September.
Check out what it’s like to be young and a new arrival to the desert as she shares excerpts from her new life in California.
The End of the Road July 18, 1:06 p.m. (cue Boyz II Men music)
It's official. This is the last day for the ol' Desert Diaries blog.
Tomorrow if you go to thedesertsun.com, you will be redirected to our spiffy new website, My Desert.
But where is Maggie?
Wait. I'll tell you.
Roll your mouse over to the tab at the top that says "Get Published." Yeah, that's nice. That feels good.
But don't click just yet.
Now, do you see how there's a bar right below that? Kind of a mid-century modern blue bar? And it has words in it?
One of those words should be "Blog." Click there. Just like that. Oh, yeah. That's sexy.
You should now have a new page. You'll probably see a handsome young man at the top there. That's Larry Bohannan, our golf reporter. You can read his blog too.
And who's that surly pirate underneath him? Why, that's me!
Go on. Click it. I promise it won't hurt.
The My Desert blog doesn't have the same neat scroll-downy layout that this blog has. However, it has a lot of other cool features that you were missing over here.
For instance, interaction. Let's say you read something I write and you think, "Boy, is that girl crazy or what?" You can now leave a comment that says, "Girl, you so crazy." And I can write back and say, "I know, right?"
My new blog also takes less than 1,000 years to load, since all the photos and whatnot aren't on the same page.
Oh, and best of all, you can create a user name and start your own blog. Or hey, come join me in the forum section -- I really need some people to chat with about "So You Think You Can Dance." Or just click the little link to mark me as a friend.
Pop Culture Princess July 17, 10:54 a.m. Have you guys been watching "The World Series of Pop Culture" on VH-1?
I love it. I am a fantastic couch critic, so I sit at home and watch and think about how I could sweep the floor with those teams.
On last night's rerun, for example, I did really well in every category except "The Zen of Swayze" -- which is because I've only seen "Roadhouse" and "Point Break." (Nope, never saw "Dirty Dancing.")
I would love to go on the show and compete, except I don't know two other pop culture junkies to complete my team.
So now I turn to you, Wide World of Webs. Perhaps there are two lurkers out there who can round out a team with me?
Here is what I am prepared to offer:
* Knowledge of Madonna in every incarnation.
* Nearly complete memory of every episode of "The Facts of Life," "The Nanny" and "Herman's Head."
* A catalog of lyrics from the Beastie Boys, Prince, Stacy Q and Michael Jackson.
* Complete knowledge of celebrity addiction and/or recreational drug use.
* Comprehensive mental inventory of obscure alternative bands from the 1990s and 2000s.
* Popular catchphrases from Saturday Night Live in the 1980s and early 1990s.
* TV theme songs.
* Short-lived reality shows.
I also know nearly every bit of trivia about New Kids on the Block, including birthdays, siblings and favorite foods.
Jesus told me so July 16, 5:48 p.m. The Boyfriend and I attended the matinee of "Godspell" yesterday at Palm Canyon Theatre.
It was wonderful, by the way. I don't think people realize how difficult it is to sing for more than two hours straight and keep energy high and do it all with a whole audience watching you ... but it is. And they all did an amazing job. But I digress.
I had about two minutes before the show started, and I needed to run to the bathroom. Only the bathrooms there are somewhere outside. I couldn't quite remember where, and in my rush I missed the big sign that said "WOMEN" and had a gigantic arrow.
So I wander around the courtyard and eventually see two girls and a guy, hanging out.
"Hey, do you know where the bathroom is?" I said.
"TEE HEE HEE," said the teenage girls.
"There are some bushes," said the guy, shoving his thumb in the direction of some shrubbery.
What luck, I thought. Here I was searching for a bathroom, and instead I discovered the funniest guy in the world. Hilarious.
I eventually found the restroom and got to my seat and started watching the musical, which is based on the gospel of St. Matthew.
And wouldn't you know it? On stage was the guy who told me to pee in the bushes ... and he was playing the role of Jesus.
But that is totally going to be my excuse for everything from now on.
Jonathan Adler knows what's what July 16, 4:09 p.m. I'm working on a piece for the paper about "Welcome to the Parker," the new Bravo relaity show that details the everyday drama of our very own posh Parker Palm Springs resort.
During my research, I found this Travel + Leisure piece from 2005, where design guru Jonathan Adler (who gave the Parker interior a whimsical overhaul) lists his top favorite P.S. haunts.
Here's what he said:
PRINTS CHARMING "Trina Turk [891 N. Palm Canyon Dr.; 760/416-2856] has the clothes that everyone should wear on vacation: colorful and groovy. It's also the place to find out what's going on in town. Trina has her finger on the pulse."
PALM SPRINGS DIET "The magic of Melvyn's [200 W. Ramon Rd.; 760/325-2323; dinner for two $100] is that white-linen experience. They know their way around a steak and a cocktail, so it appeals to ninety-year-old swingers and twenty-year-old swinger wannabes."
ART TROUVÉ "There are miles of malls with consignment stores, but the Estate Sale [4185 E. Palm Canyon Dr.; 760/321-7628] has a great art section. On a good day, you can find a needlepoint portrait of Liza Minnelli. I did not put that in the Parker. I took it home."
MALL WITH IT ALL "I love all the vintage shops at the Palm Canyon Galleria [457 N. Palm Canyon Dr.; 760/323-4576], but Patrick and James at Bon Vivant have the best eye and a sort of missionary zeal to get things into the right people's hands at reasonable prices. My own personal passion is the pieces they get by Danish ceramist Bjoern Wiinbladd, but they also have an incredible collection of major California crafts."
Fake Prom July 12, 5:17 p.m. Again, I'm cleaning my desk. And I came across an old story I wrote in Cincinnati.
My editors thought it would be funny to send me as a grown-up back to a high school prom. I wore a satin dress and had a wrist corsage and everything. It was something straight out of "Never Been Kissed."
It was weird, of course. I actually passed for a teenager, probably because a lot of young girls these days look 26 -- even long before they turn 18. And I never lied to any of the students, but some of them assumed that I was a new girl at school.
The most unexpected thing about the night was how quickly and easily people can revert back to old behaviors. When I was in high school, I was the painfully awkward goth chick in drama club, and I could feel that bubbling to the surface again when I went to Fake Prom.
Some waify tan blondes tried to bully me in the bathroom, and I almost crumbled around them. And then I remembered, "Oh wait. I'm a grown-up now, and I have self-confidence, and I no longer care about what other people think of me."
The other weird thing about Fake Prom was afterward -- buying alcohol legally and taking a guy back to my apartment.
My date for the night was a cop I was dating. His favorite thing to do was watch videos of himself busting people. He was also an amateur boxer, and I found it simultaneously exhilarating and horrifying when he would break someone's face.
He didn't really have a good sense of humor about the whole prom thing. He spent the whole night itching to arrest kids.
P.S. I Love You July 12, 12:14 p.m. I'm moving cubicles, which I suppose is one way for me to clean my desk.
While I was bulldozing my file cabinet, I found one of my all-time favorite piece of hate mail. A classic, if you will. It is perfect in every way.
It's from Gail in Indio.
Gail cut out my column and scrawled the Desert Sun address and phone number across the page in purple ink. She circled my name twice and put an asterisk next to my photo -- the footnote of which is "VERY TACKY!!!"
And then Gail writes: "What kind of language is this?!"
The offending sentence? I used the word "bum" to refer to someone's rear.
At the end of the column, I'm waxing poetic about the desert and say, "If there's a more breathtaking landscape on Earth, I have yet to see it." Under which Gail writes, "Get some videos on Europe."
Not "Go to Europe" or "You should see Europe," but "Get some VIDEOS about Europe."
And then there's a sticker of a yellow ribbon that says "Support Our Troops."
There's still time for Squishee! July 11, 4:17 p.m.
Today is free Squishee day at your local 7-11/Kwik-E-Mart.
Get it? Because today is July 7, aka 7-11.
I got the Blue Woo Hoo! Vanilla flavor ... and WOO HOO! I'm already getting super chatty and crazy from the sugar squishing through my veins.
I was trying to take a photo of the other side of the cup -- which features Homer and Spiderpig -- but instead I'm just illustrating how messy my desk is.
It's like one of those games in Highlights For Kids magazine! See if you can find the following: Chinese fortune, York mints, New York Times clippings, plastic fork, notebook, ketchup packet.
I spent last night with a wizard and his magic stick.
And boy, am I tired!
But at least I'm satisfied.
The latest installment of the Harry Potter series is darker and more delicious than the previous films. It's dramatically shorter than the novel, but it gets right down to business.
I think I appreciate the movies more now, leading up to the final book. This film seemed to contain more foreshadowing, and everything felt more eerie and chilling.
But maybe I'm just more aware of it now, knowing that Harry's days could be numbered.
One Jazzy Boozer (With Discriminating Taste) July 10, 1:51 p.m. Of course celebrities always travel with special demands listed in their rider.
Van Halen famously demanded bowls of M&Ms, minus all the brown ones. Mariah Carey always requests Cristal with bendy straws. The guys from Pearl Jam are big into juicing and ask for pounds of beets, carrots, oranges and celery, plus a carton of Marlboro Reds.
Vampire Cat Death Stare July 10, 12:05 p.m. My boyfriend has been out of town. And aside from the illicit activity and a revolving door of male hookers, my time has been spent reading and writing and taking photos of me and the cat.
Like this one:
Do you see how much my cat loathes me taking pictures of him? There's nothing but hatred in those eyes.
What I have in common with something bubbly and fizzy and void of nutritional value July 10, 10:28 a.m. Diet Coke and I share the same birthday. It was unveiled July 29, 1982.
Your Top Five July 09, 4:59 p.m. Over the weekend a couple of my friends and I talked about our top five lists -- you know, the five people you are "allowed" to bang, even if you are involved in a monogamous relationship.
My list has definitely evolved over the years. I met Ludacris and discovered that I'm about a foot taller than him, which wasn't sexy. Ben Affleck was replaced by people with more substance. And Jude Law pretty much crashed off the list.
Here's how it stands right now:
5. Dave Eggers -- I know it's kind of a cliche to love the whole McSweeney's publishing house, but I do. Dave Eggers writes with so much heart and humor, and everything he touches turns to gold. He's a literary revolutionary. Besides, he had a pirate store way before Johnny Depp made pirates cool.
4. Andrew Bird -- My, what as large vocabulary he has! And he's also a musical genius. His new album, "Armchair Apocrypha," is haunting and dreamy, and his live show is absolutely stunning. Just watch what he did at Coachella:
My friend Deborah and I stalked him that day, around the port-a-potties in the VIP section. Eventually he noticed the two creepy girls following him, and he ran away.
3. Jason Schwartzman -- He acts! He sings! He's in movies I love! Plus, he's got that rumpled, scruffy grad student look about him, which I love. Lately I've been obsessively listening to his new electronica music project, Coconut Records.
Check out this video for his song, Nighttiming. The hilarious lip-synching is done by his brother:
2. Ira Glass -- I like 'em nerdy, obviously. And I love people who can tell a damn fine story. I can't go a week without my fix of his radio show, "This American Life," which I always download to my iPod.
1. Johnny Knoxville -- Because lighting firecrackers in your butt is funny.
And then, of course, there's Angelina Jolie who holds some sort of ultra-number one position on the list. My list, and everybody else's list. Because I believe that regardless of age, race or gender, if anybody has the opportunity to sleep with her, they should. Not for love or affection, but just because you know she's a freak.
So. Hot. July 09, 4:01 p.m. Do you know how hot it was this weekend? It was so hot, I spent far too many hours on the couch in my bikini watching "My Super Sweet 16" on MTV.
And then, when I finished watching "Super Sweet 16: The Movie," THAT'S when I knew this had to stop. So I went out for sangria with my friend, Abby.
Friday Mixtape: Random Quote Edition July 06, 3:54 p.m. I do this thing where I quote random songs completely out of context.
Case in point: The many business meetings where I suddenly exclaim in my Talking Heads voice, "This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife!"
I realize this is funny to nobody but me. But I do it anyway. Hey, some people quote Byron, I quote Byrne.
So here now is a mixtape list of my most quotable songs:
Once in a Lifetime -- Talking Heads ("This is not my beautiful house!")
Comfort Eagle -- Cake ("We are building a religion! We are building it bigger!")
Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) -- Arcade Fire ("We found the light!")
I'm Sorry Now -- Jude ("I hate spaghetti and I also hate divorce.")
Daft Punk is Playing at My House -- LCD Soundsystem ("All the furniture is the garage!")
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots -- Flaming Lips ("Those evil-natured robots, they're programmed to destroy us.")
There's also a song by DJ Assault that I probably quote more than all the others, but even the title is too explicit for this blog.
Yesterday I somehow got hooked inside a scary novel, and so I spent most of the night trying to chase away dreams of serial killers who pluck out your teeth one by one.
But then the night fell away and today happened. And there's nothing so wonderful and safe and comforting as a sunny morning with a steaming Americano, a friend and great conversation.
Indy Day Faux Pas July 05, 11:36 a.m. I have this T-shirt that is hilarious -- 364 days out of the year.
It's a red T-shirt with drawings of Stalin, Castro, Lenin, Marx and Mao. Most of them have party hats on and are holding beer cups. Marx has a lampshade on his head.
Because it's a Communist PARTY. Get it? Hysterical.
The Lake House July 05, 11:29 a.m. It was scorching hot on the desert floor. I thought my head was going to explode.
Thankfully, I was working on a piece about daytrips to escape the heat, which just happened to coincide with the Fourth of July holiday, which just happened to coincide with my friends going to their lake house ...
And that's how the Boyfriend and I found ourselves at Lake Arrowhead for a couple amazing days.
The place is a wholesome slice of Americana, all hot dogs and apple pie and friendly dogs and kids jumping off the dock into the lake.
One of the highlights was a wonderful July 3 meal of salmon, rice, salad, angel food cake and berries, eaten OUTSIDE! It was almost chilly, too. And this was the (very green) view:
Other highlights:
* Meditating outside in the morning with my friend's husband, surrounded by chirping birds and a soft breeze blowing through the pine trees.
* Drinking champagne with another Maggie who loves the bubbly just as much as I do.
* Curling up at night on the bed with this dog, the cutest pup in the world. (I so miss having a dog.)
* Hiking the shoreline trail that loops around the lake, and feeling incredibly happy and loved and blessed.
Party Out of Bounds July 02, 4:37 p.m. Today is my fourth straight day of partying.
It's not as debaucherous as you think. It was no binge worthy of Li-Lo or Paris or anyone like that. But it was absolutely my favorite type of weekend -- a non-stop whirlwind of my favorite friends, food, fun, music and more.
Friday night was an editor's birthday celebration at the Yardhouse. (Happy birthday, Rick!) It's been a long time since I've had beer, so I enjoyed a couple pints of dark, rich, stouty stuff. Yum. I like beer that feels like I just drank a sack of potatoes.
On Saturday I had a tasting party for a super-secret thing I'll be writing about soon. (Shhh. You'll know all about it soon enough!)
That was followed by a dinner party with some new artist friends. They are macrobiotic vegans, and all the food was homemade with love, with every course more sumptuous than the last. Plus, the company could not have been better -- it was a group that included professors, magazine editors and all-around bright, talented, beautiful people.
Sunday was my monthly poker game. I actually don't play anymore, even though I still host the parties -- I'm way to hyper for poker, and I get bored by sitting in one place for so long. So my boyfriend ran the party while I went shopping and did other things.
And tonight my writing group is coming over. I'm cooking, and then we'll do some freewriting exercises. I can't wait.
Zig-A-Zig-Ah June 28, 5:10 p.m. Laugh if you want, but I will totally travel to the ends of the earth to attend the Spice Girls reunion concert. I am not even kidding.
I need to find my photos from college when my friends and I used to dress up like Spice Girls -- on purpose -- to go to the bars.
Don't Make the Baby Jesus Cry June 28, 1:45 p.m. Top 10 reasons to go see "Godspell" at Palm Canyon Theatre:
10. Because everybody loves a singing Jesus.
9. Going to the theatre makes you appear more handsome and intellectual.
8. Seriously, a person can only watch so many bad summer movies. This is your alternative to "Die Hard."
7. To see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly.
6. So cheap! ($24, or $10 for students.)
5. Some people call it blasphemy, which means it must be good.
4. Cool cast: Daryl Jones as the charismatic Jesus, Zylo Corey as the revolutionary Judas/John The Baptist, Douglas McDonald as playful Jeffrey, Nathan Lee Kamar as sweet Lamar, Eric Olson as class clown Herb, Carissa Campbell as tomboy Robin, Kaitlyn Farley as show-off Joanne, Jennifer Paulk as shy Peggy, Carrie Hannah as sassy Sonia, and Hannah Covington as goofy Gilmer. Holla!
3. The actors and crew work so hard. I know for a fact they have been rehearsing without air conditioning, and it's like 300 degrees out there.
2. This is really your only opportunity to see Pharisees in downtown Palm Springs.
1. What else are you going to do that's fun and fabulous?
"Godspell" is at Palm Canyon Theatre, from June 29 to July 17. Thursday at 7 p.m., Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m., Sunday at 2 p.m.
Overheard at 'Ratatouille' June 27, 2:07 p.m. The Boyfriend and I picked up free tickets to a screening of Ratatouille in Rancho Mirage last night. Here's what we heard and saw:
A sweet-faced little girl, tugging on the pantleg of an older woman: "'Scuse me. Is this 'Ratatuille'? I don't know how to read the sign above the door."
***
Two boys and a dad, all eating Skittles.
"Hey Dad. Dad. Guess what the red ones taste like?"
"I don't know."
"Red slushie ... And you know what the green ones taste like? Green slushie ... And you know what the orange ones taste like? Orange slushie ... And hey Dad, guess what the yellow ones taste like."
"Yellow slushie?"
"No. Banana."
***
Two little boys were sitting in the seats directly in front of us. They began to play a game called Mime, in which they faced each other and each did the ol' mime-stuck-in-a-box routine.
Finally, one of the boys reached out and POW! Punched his friend right in the face.
People always told me that the second summer is far worse than your first.
Your first time around, you've braced yourself. "Hmmm, this is hot," you think. "But I can handle it. It's just different, that's all."
But your second summer, you're sweaty and angry and sometimes your skin feels like the sun is maniacally laughing while poking you all over with a red-hot fork.
I am so, so grouchy. I can't seem to cool off. The other day I even opened the freezer at the grocery store and stood there for a very long time -- and I wasn't even there to buy anything.
I just about flipped out the other day when I had to stand around naked, waiting for the water in the shower to COOL OFF before I could get in there. How messed up is that?
(Aside: The only good thing about hot water in the pipes is that I can make French press coffee straight from the tap. And I am 100 percent serious.)
So this is the kind of mood I was in when I had my opera lesson today. My teacher asked how I've been doing, and I snapped back something about being hot and irritable and annoyed at the world.
She promised I would feel better after singing.
The first half-hour was excrutiating. I was hunched over, my chest caving in, my voice crackling.
"Just keep at it," she said. "Let's get you unstuck."
We ended up doing a series of voice exercises. Then, instead of working on the difficult Italian or German pieces, she told me to sing something fun.
I belted out a few tunes from "Annie Get Your Gun" ... and then I ended up smiling, and then laughing, and then dancing around the room while I sang.
And sure enough, I felt happier by the end of the lesson.
Disgusting Litterbug June 25, 4:57 p.m. I couldn't believe what I saw at the intersection of 111 and Highway 74.
Someone in the passenger seat of a little green car just tossed a drink out the window, ice, straw, cup and all.
Seriously. Litter? Isn't that so '80s?
I mean, who litters anymore? And in broad daylight? I feel like if people actually want to litter, they should be doing it in secret, like after midnight in some back alley somewhere.
After the stoplight turned green, I even drove up next to the car and looked at the people inside, just to gauge if it had been some kind of mistake. Like, "Oh, here I was sipping my icy cool Diet Coke, and then the darned thing fell from my hands and onto the street."
But no. There was no remorse on that guy's face.
It was just open window, toss drink.
I don't even understand WHY. What's the point? Was this guy thinking, "Oh my goodness. I just cannot stand to have THIS CUP in THIS CAR for ONE MORE SECOND. I must get rid of it this instant."
The only possible excuse is that the cup started talking to him or turned into Satan or something. If that were the case, I would be absolutely in favor of tossing a cup into the street. But absolute surprise or horror aside, NO EXCUSE.
I know it's probably really lame for me to get all het up over something like this, but geez -- what a tool.
Friday Mixtape! June 22, 3:31 p.m. In honor of the completely awesome Pet Expo tomorrow, here's my Smoochy Poochy afternoon pet mix:
Dogs of Lust -- The The Diamond Dogs -- David Bowie China Cat Sunflower -- Grateful Dead Lovecats -- The Cure The Rat -- The Walkmen Birdhouse in Your Soul -- They Might Be Giants The Dog Song -- Nellie McKay Rabbit Hole -- Year of the Rabbit I Wanna Be Your Dog -- The Stooges Cat's in the Cradle -- Harry Chapin All the King's Horses -- Joss Stone Meow Meow Lullaby -- Nada Surf
If this picture makes you go "Awwwww ..." the Animal Samaritans pet expo is the event for you!
The event is Saturday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. at Hotel Zoso, 150 S. Palm Canyon, Palm Springs.
Bring your pet, on a leash of course, and check out more than 15 vendors of goodies for you and your pooch. Meet animal experts from the SCPA, the police K-9 unit, and a pet grief expert.
There will even be contests and all kinds of cool demonstrations from noon to 2 p.m.
PLUS, food from Deezer Dogs. And best of all, admission is 100 percent totally free.
This event will make you fun and attractive. Check it out.
Things the CW Network Could Have Re-Titled the Kevin Williamson Project "Palm Springs" Instead of Bothering to Name it "Hidden Palms" June 20, 2:26 p.m. 1. Hidden in a Bad Time Slot 2. Terrible Marketing & Palm Trees 3. Why Bother Because We're Just Going to Cancel This in Three Weeks Anyway?
The Boyfriend and I were sitting on the couch. I had a large cushion resting in my lap, and my cat was splayed across it, dozing peacefully as we softly petted him.
"You know what I'm thinking?" The Boyfriend said. "We have the cutest cat in the whole wide world."
"You know what I'm thinking?" I said. "I wonder what he would look like without any skin."
Celebrate Your Freedom June 19, 12:45 p.m. If you're not already celebrating Juneteenth today, you should be.
Juneteenth commemorates African American freedom and is the oldest national celebration of the end of slavery.
Why is this important to you?
Because the struggle for freedom continues today in different and more virulent ways, in our own country and around the world.
Today you should celebrate emancipation by making your voice heard: Speak up in the face of injustice, share your personal experiences, start a conversation in your community, learn more about the struggle for freedom around the globe and write a letter to your political representatives.
Cooling Off Under the Dessert Sky June 18, 2:03 p.m.
Was it just me? Or was the heat dragging everyone down this weekend?
The Boyfriend and I spent a lot of time bickering and/or pouting. And then we spent a LOT of time napping in an effort to escape the heat -- and each other.
Here's the weekend in a nutshell:
"What's wrong with you?" "Nothing. Except I'm hot. And I'm bored. And oh, I hate you." "Yeah. I feel the same way."
We tried going to the mall. We tried pointing fans at our faces. Nothing worked. Not even swimming provided respite from the heat -- the pool was about 90 degrees.
Then, Sunday night, I found two coupons for free frozen yogurt at Golden Spoon in Rancho Mirage.
I didn't even know what Golden Spoon was; I just wanted to get out of the damn house and feel something cold besides an icy demeanor.
I had frozen yogurt that was flavored like cake batter. The Boyfriend had some weirdness, something like Heath Bar mixed with mint chocolate.
We were are stern and sulky as we sat inside the place, silently slurping up our dessert.
"I'm cold," I finally said, shattering the dead air. "I can't feel my toes."
"I have goosebumps," he said.
We finished our yogurt sitting outside by the fountain on the corner of the street.
I didn't even know the place was there, that fountain. It was the kind of place where my friends and I hung out when I was in high school. We would make up stupid games and dance in fountains and moon the cars that drove past.
And so last night, under a squid-black sky with a sliver of a moon, The Boyfriend and I talked and danced and told silly stories. And even though I had been cold in the yogurt shop, it was the first time all weekend that I really cooled off.
It's FRIDAY! ... June 15, 2:56 p.m. And I can't tell you how relieved I am. I've been a wee bit stressed out and overwhelmed, barely able to keep from sinking in the sand. Then my best friend and I had a knock-down, drag-out fight, which completely exhausted me and sucked me dry.
Things are better now.
I have a full weekend of pool parties and sangria and hiking in the mountains to help me recover.
I've already loaded my iPod with some trusty chill songs ... it's my "Sweat the 110 Degrees Away" mix. (Kinda heavy on the French pop, but that's what I've been into nowadays.)
Go to iTunes, download and enjoy.
Speaking in Tongues -- Eagles of Death Metal Hard to Beat -- Hard-Fi Hell Yes -- Beck J'aime la Bourgeoisie (vive le rock) -- Numero Je Veux te Voir -- Yelle Long Distance Call -- Phoenix The Rejection -- Dangerous Muse Collarbone -- Fujiya & Miyagi L'Amour A 3 -- Stereo Total Get it Shawty -- Lloyd The Comeback -- Shout Out Louds Punk Rocker -- Teddybears Keep the Car Running -- The Arcade Fire Gold Soundz -- Pavement Jogging Gorgeous Summer -- Islands Her, You and I -- The Changes
I hope Kevin Williamson googles himself June 14, 4:27 p.m. Dear Kevin Williamson,
I have a few suggestions for you and your CW show, "Hidden Palms," a moody teen drama that takes place in Palm Springs:
1. Hire me! Take me on as an intern! I can help make the teenage dialogue actually seem plausible. Also, I am super creative and can deliver wild plot twists to add another sinster layer of mystery.
2. Humor. I love the suspenseful and surreal "Twin Peaks" vibe. I really do. But "Hidden Palms" is begging for some brevity. Honestly, we're not all that hot and depressed all the time in the desert.
3. Figure out something to do with Greta. Why does she look wildly different in every episode? Are you hiring different actresses and hoping nobody will notice? I think she got a new face for episode 3.
4. Turn this into the Cliff show. Nobody cares about Johnny. Cliff is way more interesting, even if he is a puppy-kicking psycho. (Actually, BECAUSE he is a puppy-kicking psycho.)
Seriously. I'm a big fan of your work, and I want to keep this show on the air. Help me help you.
Sad Egg June 13, 3:24 p.m. I have many flaws. But one of the worst is that I am completely incapable of peeling a hard-boiled egg.
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
The sad thing is, I really try. And I CANNOT peel an egg.
I've tried all sorts of tricks too: Peeling it under water, cracking it all over, rolling it.
I've tried cooking them in all different methods: salting the water, boiling for 5 minutes on heat, simmering in boiling water off the heat, baking them.
I've tried using fresh eggs, and I've tried aging the eggs. I've used the cheap eggs from Trader Joe's, and I've used expensive free-range Omega-3 fancy eggs made of gold.
And yet, no dice. It almost looks like I peeled this with someone else's hands. I could have blindfolded a bear, and he would have done a better job of peeling my egg.
You should see when I make deviled eggs. It looks like Satan's dog mauled the eggs before spitting them back out on a platter.
I'm open to suggestions. Anyone? Anything?
P.S. How cute is my little lunch wrap with the skulls? It's a cool and environmentally-friendly way to pack sandwiches -- and all sorts of other stuff -- for lunch.
The Tale of the $75 Tank Top June 12, 5:42 p.m. On Saturday I participated in the Girlfriend Factor's El Paseo Shopping Challenge, in which local merchants offered goodie bags, discounts and all sorts of fun things for everybody participating in the Ultimate Pajama Party.
I started my shopping day at Dot, where there was a big beefy guy named Cole serving free bellinis to shoppers.
Now, I'm not even about muscle men. That's not my type.
And yet, Cole had that Mr. Clean thing happening. He was really tall and attractive and he followed me around the store to keep my glass full of bellini. I admit, I was a little wooed.
I tried on one shirt. When I was done and walked out of the dressing room, Cole was there. "What? I don't get to see?" he said, making a little pouty face.
"Uh, no," I stammered. "It's not really my thing." And at that point, I had every intention of leaving the store.
"Will you let me pick out something for you?" he said.
"I dunno. I mean, no. I'm leaving. Too expensive."
But Cole insisted. "Come on. I just want to see you in something really beautiful," he said. "Like this outfit right here. Just try it on. With your hair, this would be stunning. You're such a gorgeous woman anyway."
I don't know what came over me, but suddenly I was less of a thrifty, kickass feminist and more of a drooling pile of "Pretty Woman" goo. Like, I just wanted the big strong man to dress me up and make me pretty.
I went into the dressing room with a pile of stuff.
With the new clothes on my body, Cole made me do a little runway strut and twirl for him.
"My God. You look amazing," he said. "You're so hot in that."
"OK," I said instantly. "I'll take it. Wrap this up."
Only later, when I was signing my name at the bottom of the credit card slip, did I realize that I had just paid close to $75 for a tank top. A plain teal tank top. It doesn't even blink or talk or anything.
That's also when I noticed the store's return policy, which basically is nonexistant.
So I paid $75 for a tank top. I rarely even spend that on an entire outfit. I'm appalled. (But I rationalized it because I didn't spend anything else that day, and I figure I'll feel really good about myself every time I wear it.)
That night Cole showed up at the pajama party I was attending. I had already knocked back a couple of glasses of wine, so all I could do was shake my fist and say, "Seventy-five dollars!"
Also, later I found out that Cole is just a wee 20-year-old, which totally grossed me out. Ew. I could be his grandmother. That's such a Demi Moore move.
The ULTIMATE Slumber Party June 06, 10:52 a.m. As much as we love the boys, this here is a girls-only post.
OK, ladies.
The biggest, best, most fantastic slumber party of the year is this weekend, courtesy of The Girlfriend Factor -- and there's still time for you to sign up and enjoy the fun.
Here's what's in store for you:
FRIDAY NIGHT: Food, drinks, karaoke and a Ben & Jerry's sundae buffet. And did I mention the mechanical bull? Oh hells yeah.
SATURDAY DAY: Poolside massages and fun at the resort. Also, a shopping challenge along El Paseo, where many of the merchants will be offering special discounts and goodies for anyone wearing PJ bottoms and an event wristband. (My favorite is Dot, where they will have hunky guys serving up bellinis and a buy-two-get-one-free deal.)
SATURDAY NIGHT: This is when the party really gets rolling with a Mediterranean feast from East Meets West catering. And then drag queen bingo, where some gorgeous drag queens will be calling all the numbers. It's so fun.
Plus, everything will be taking place at the super-chic MOD Resort in Palm Desert. (Looky here: http://www.modresort.com)
Can't stay the whole weekend? That's OK. You can pay for each portion separately. And you don't have to stay the whole night.
Best of all, the event benefits the Girlfriend Factor, a Palm Desert-based non-profit that is all about women helping women.
This is your chance to meet a great group of women and have fun while doing something extraordinary and completely unique.
For more info, go here: http://girlfriendfactor.org/
Questions? Or just want to RSVP your spot? Call 772-9594.
You won't be sorry. I mean it. This is the event of the decade.
I swear to God I am not making this up June 05, 2:22 p.m. There were two swans at Lake Mirage in Rancho Mirage who loved each other. Swans, as you probably know, mate for life -- so they were ridiculously happy, and everything was as it should be.
Then a wild swan flew in, probably from the Marriott.
That swan was a slut. In fact, the people in the neighborhood named her Charlotte the Harlot, because she preened her feathers and strutted her stuff and blew little beak kisses until the happy swan couple broke up.
Now the boy swan has taken up full-time with his swan mistress, while the lonely swan wife sits alone on the shore.
It is so sad. Nature has gotten so promiscuous.
I guess the lesson here is the next time someone calls you a hussy, just say that you learned it from the swans.
Back to the Future June 04, 4:20 p.m. On Saturday I hiked up the south end of the Lykken Trail, where Mesquite Avenue runs into the mountains.
I had my Camelbak of water hung over my shoulders, an iPod blaring "This American Life" in my ears.
I walked for a good hour or so before the day really started to heat up, with my face red, my skin throbbing, my body pouring with sweat.
As I came down the mountain, a few cars were parked on the road at the base of the trail. And they were all Model Ts.
My first thought was, "Did I hike through time?"
The more I thought about that, the more I loved the idea, and I was kind of excited to see if maybe I was back in 1920. I could bob my hair! I could be a flapper! I could see Babe Ruth play for the Yankees!
And then I realized I couldn't charge my iPod, and the idea didn't seem so cool anymore.
"It's a #$@%ing desert, you guys." June 03, 10:03 a.m. Mindy Kaling, who plays Kelly on "The Office," has a shopping blog on the world wide interweb, right heres: http://mindyephron.blogspot.com/
(Having a little trouble with the hyperlink. Sorry.)
For Memorial Day weekend, she hiked in Joshua Tree, dined at the Twentynine Palms Inn and shopped at Desert Hills Premium Outlets.
From the sound of it, she had a great time:
"All in all, this was a surprisingly fantastic little vacation out of a place I thought would be full of dirty sand and ugly lizards. It was completely tranquil and hot and stunning out there and I would go again. Make sure to bring sunblock spf 1000 though ..."
The Boyfriend was watching a movie, while I was dozing on the couch with the cat sprawled across my chest.
All of a sudden everything felt tumbly and sounded all rumbly.
The cat FREAKED OUT. Every hair on his body stood on end.
I automatically lept into action, grabbing flashlights and cellphones and filling containers with water. (Hey, a Midwestern girl doesn't necessarily know what 4.2 feels like. This could have been a 15.0 for all I know.)
How fun! (And also a little frightening.)
The cat is still a little wired, and my hands are slightly shaky. I know this was just a baby tremblor, but I guess I should start taking this earthquake stuff more seriously.
Maybe someone here can tell me this -- what makes noise during an earthquake? I know I heard things go boom.
Is it simply from the houses moving and settling? Or does the earth actually create a rumbling sound?
Overheard in the Theater May 30, 2:56 p.m. I usually stay away from movie theaters because of the crowds; specifically, the rude people who talk loudly throughout the film.
But last night I went to the theater to see "Knocked Up," because, hey -- free screening. Who can argue with that?
Unfortunately, we still had to deal with the chatterboxes.
When the film showed the point of conception, the lady behind me yelled, "Oh no! She's going to get pregnant!"
Now, I don't know what "knocked up" means to this woman, but I went into the movie anticipating that one of the characters would get pregnant.
Maybe she didn't see the commercials.
Later, after a scene featured Joanna Kerns, a guy behind me said to his friends, "I know that lady! Do you remember her? She was the mom from 'Silver Spoons.' Or er ... not 'Silver Spoons.' Maybe it was 'Family Ties.' 'Family Pains?' 'Growing Ties?' You know -- that show with Michael Keaton. "
Plantman Knows Where the Plants Will Grow May 25, 1:46 p.m. Wondering how I've been spending my time lately?
I've been watching plants grow.
No, really.
It's kind of like watching water boil, only a LOT more boring.
The Boyfriend and I ordered an Aerogrow Garden for our kitchen, and we're probably the only people in the world who are legitimately using it for basil and not for weed.
Yesterday we filled it with water and inserted the nutrient capsules and programmed the lights. And then we inserted the seed pods.
I'm actually a little disappointed the seed pods didn't suddenly sprout and go "bwooop!" and become full-grown plants before my very eyes.
"Well, they're not radiation seeds," The Boyfriend said. "They still have to GROW, you know. This just hastens the process."
But I just keep standing there and waiting and watching. I know that something has to happen at some point.
100 Proof food May 23, 3:42 p.m. My Drink of the Week column today focused on the new vino that's being offered at the Tulip Hill Winery tasting room at the River in Rancho Mirage.
But here's what I didn't have enough space to tell you about in that story -- Tulip Hill is also selling the most incredible smoked salmon:
It comes from a place called 100 Proof Smokehouse in Temecula, where all the fish is smoked with some sort of alcohol. Here's the list of flavors:
* Cabernet Chipotle * Apricot Brandy * Maple Rum * Tangerine Sake * Vodka Citrus
(I put those in the order I liked them, by the way. The cab chipotle is fabulous.)
They're also selling smoked cream cheese, which is absolutely worth picking up for your next party. It tasted great, even by itself on a cracker.
Jury Schmury May 22, 2:29 p.m. I know this is my civic duty and all, but man ... jury duty? Why, God, why?
I think there's a loophole, though. Supposedly the juror needs to be a rational, impartial person.
I just need to go in there, all crazy-like, with lipstick smeared all over my face and bloodshot eyes and making all sorts of noise about "The probe! The dang aliens got me with their probe! And I love the death penalty! Bliggidy-bloo!"
And maybe then they won't want me.
But, then again, that might rocket me to the top of their list.
McSneezy May 15, 09:19 a.m. Lately the desert has been making me sneeze more than ever. And these aren't tiny, girly ah-choos either. These sneezes are born in the gut. They're deep and loud and operatic. Sometimes I think my eyes are going to pop out of my skull, like in the cartoons.
So this morning I was riding my bike when one of The Sneezes hit me. As I sneezed, my hands instinctively grabbed the brakes. The bike came to a screeching halt, and I came very close to flipping over the handlebars.
Friday at the Movies May 14, 5:32 p.m. On Friday night, the Boyfriend and I joined another couple for the outdoor movies they show at the Gardens at El Paseo.
(Aside: It's a fantastic deal -- $10 for a movie, two glasses of wine and snacks. We saw a selection of itty bitty films from the Palm Springs Shortfest, and they were great.)
Because we hadn't eaten dinner, the Boyfriend and I grabbed some to-go salads from Sammy's Woodfired Pizza.
Just as the films were about to start, I popped open the takeout container and discovered my grilled shrimp salad was actually something of the poultry variety. I did not want that, and it was not what I had ordered.
I returned to the restaurant and explained the problem to the guy at the takeout stand. He didn't say a word. Just grabbed the salad from my hands and walked away.
Several minutes and no apology later, I was handed a grilled shrimp salad.
Then a lady walked out from the back and gave me a coupon that is good for a free Giant Messy Sundae with the purchase of any menu item.
I'm happy to know they value customer service, as long as I buy something else. Like, "Hey, here's a prize -- but not really."
I actually like Sammy's, and this is the only time I've ever had hospitality issues, so I'll give them another shot. Besides, I need to collect on my sundae.
On Saturday, my friends had a going-away bowling party for a co-worker who is moving to Maui.
When I was renting my shoes, the shoe lady told me that she used to be 5'10" -- but a couple years ago, she shrunk to 5'8". Meanwhile, her feet grew from a size 10 to an 11.
"I'm growing OUT!" she said.
Then I talked to the bartender about getting a special drink for my friend. He doesn't drink alcohol, but I thought they could do some sort of virgin daquiri or something.
The bartender shook his head no.
"Anything with an umbrella?"
"I got nuthin'" he said.
"A cherry?"
"Nope."
Then he told me that the alley used to stock cherries. But then all the bowling alley employees started coming by and eating all of his cherries. It was cherries all day, all the time. Some of them existed on cherry-only diets.
Maybe that's what causes a person to shrink two inches and grow out from their feet.
In Anticipation of Sadness May 12, 7:11 p.m. My best friend came up with a fantastic way to spend Mother's Day.
See, my best friend's mom passed away. And my mom is in a nursing home and doesn't remember who I am.
So every year from now on, my friend and I are going to take turns flying across the country to see each other -- and we're going to go to an amusement park where we'll ride roller coasters and eat cotton candy and laugh and remember all the good things about our moms.
It's one of the most genius things I've ever heard.
Today I was skimming spinner.com, when I came across a story about the British band Fields, who spent a swanky night in Palm Springs before Coachella.
The story says:
Two weeks ago, the band was sipping cocktails poolside at Frank Sinatra's former Palm Springs pad. "That was very surreal and brilliant," Peill tells Spinner. "I don't know how much time we spent there, but it's a really beautiful kind of '60s style bungalow. It was [full of] cool kids dancing and jumping in the pool."
And it turns out, Peill and his dream rock co-horts discovered wonders in Frank's former palace too. "The toilet was full of his old records," Peill says. "All of his albums were framed up on the wall. It was nice, very tasteful."
Half a Benjamin May 09, 5:11 p.m. The summer tram pass is here!
Just $5o for the whole summer -- a real deal considering that one ride is usually $21.95.
When it's all sweltering and sweaty down here, and you can't afford to crank up the air conditioning any more, a trip up the tram is the most effective way to cool off.
It's the only way the boyfriend and I survived our first summer here.
Plus, it's true wilderness up there. Like, if you and your hiking partner get lost, you might have to eat him.
All that AND hiking and camping and trees and picnics and German tourists.
What the World Needs Now May 09, 08:42 a.m. You know what the people of Palm Springs could use? Parking classes.
It doesn't matter where I go -- either I have a space THISBIG in which to squeeze my booty out the door, or I have enough space to navigate a Russian submarine.
New Blog on the Way May 07, 4:39 p.m. By now you all probably know that The Desert Sun is launching a new website.
It's going to be super cool and include all sorts of interactive things -- which means if you want to get involved with your community and your local news, you can.
It also means a new blog for me.
Very! Exciting! Stuff!
I'm most excited about the comments feature, which will allow you guys to respond to my posts ... and will allow me to stop feeling as though I'm typing into a dark and faceless void.
So I'm in the process of selecting a name for said blog right now. If you really hate "The Desert Diaries" (which was only intended to be a temporary name anyway), this is your chance to speak up and help me change it. Just email me at maggie.downs@thedesertsun.com. (See, this is where a comments feature would come in handy.)
Also, I'll be changing my photo, which some folks have complained about in the past. I've been told I look like Bridget Jones in a casket. Apparently closed eyes = dead.
Rollin' Down to Stagecoach May 07, 3:09 p.m. I headed over to the Stagecoach festival on Saturday. Mostly I wanted to check out how it compares to Coachella. (Hint: It's different!)
But I also like Robert Earl Keen, and I've never seen him perform live before. And I wanted to see Willie again; I only caught a little bit of his show last weekend. And I want to be Neko Case when I grow up.
Here are a few snapshots from the down-home party:
That Earl Scruggs is a ferocious performer.
Yikes! The fans have begun to clone themselves.
How hot was the music? You couldn't keep your shirt on. (And neither could the chicks in the beer tent. They were flashing for tips.)
We Get Letters May 07, 10:49 a.m. In today's inbox:
"I love your toes and would klike to see more of yur toes and feet . do you have oppen toed shoes and sandles I could see you modle? I really enjoyed your feet ! I would love to hear from you."
Of all the great things about the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, one of the best is that for three days I'm surrounded by music nerds.
They know how to pronounce !!!. They can tell you that Tokyo Police Club actually hails from Canada. They knew the Fratellis long before the iPod commercial. They know Mika is a boy. They think the Black Keys went downhill in 2003. And they believe Arcade Fire is the biggest band in the world.
These are my people.
It still makes me laugh, though, when I hear exchanges like this in the parking lot after the show:
GUY 1: MSTRKRAFT rocked the house.
GUY 2: Hell yeah. But that guy on the right side of the stage, what was he doing?
GUY 1: I know, right? Did he think he was in We Are Scientists?
Set Times April 24, 10:43 a.m. The Coachella set times have been announced!
This event always makes me ponder the important questions in life:
Should I go see a solid band that I've seen a couple times before (Interpol) or use this opportunity to check out a band I like but have never seen (Brazilian Girls)?
Who will win in the battle of Ratatat vs. Happy Mondays vs. Teddybears?
Why, oh why, is Andrew Bird playing at the same time as the Decemberists?
When will I have time to eat?
Also, it's official: I will not be using the bathroom on Saturday. There's no time.
Coachella: It's Ours April 23, 2:24 p.m. I get a little thrill every time I see the Coachella Music & Arts Festival mentioned in national/international media.
(Of course, I'm also 12 years old, so my thrill is of the "Neener, neener!" variety. Ha, suckas! You have to book hotels! And travel! And we're right here!)
Some items of interest:
The Wall Street Journal had a recent feature about music festivals and their pricy VIP tickets.
The story says: "Music festivals are going after an older, wealthier crowd this summer with more mainstream acts, higher-priced tickets and a slate of VIP perks ... Holders of American Express Gold Cards have received a special offer for the Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival in California; for $549 -- more than double the regular price -- they get entry to the only cocktail bar on the grounds."
Also, the New York Times had an excellent article about the fantastic reunion shows that make Coachella such a hot ticket. (For example, Rage Against the Machine this year, the Pixies in 2004, the Stooges in 2003 and so on ...)
The story says: "What about that weird web of logic that made $249 for a three-day pass to the Coachella Festival next weekend seem an allowable expense, because you’d be seeing Rage Against the Machine, the radical-leftist punk-funk band that wrote timely songs challenging the domination of real-life power structures until 2000, when it ceased to exist?"
And I'll include another part of the story, just because it made me laugh out loud: "Isn’t it more accurate to see music as music, and not as philosophy or policy? (Put it another way: If you admired Rage specifically for being a forthright radical-left political band, how could you ever forgive it for being absent through George W. Bush’s presidency to this point, only showing up after the Democratic landslide of the midterm elections?)"
First I put bunny ears on the cat. Then I did some ballroom dancing with the cat. Then I played a game called, "Hop Over the Cat While He Tries to Nap."
Good week April 18, 3:37 p.m. I promise I'll stop talking about my vacation soon. It's just that my body is here, but my head is still back in last week.
Here are the highlights:
Dinner at Robin's Restaurant, the cutest little place in Cambria. Hundreds of frogs croaking all night in San Simeon. Touring the gorgeous Hearst Castle where I got the OFFICIAL official proposal from The Boyfriend.
Finding pocketfuls of jade in beach coves. Exploring tide pools. Writing messages in the sand. Walking together next to the ocean.
Freaking out at the price of gas in Big Sur. ($4.45!! For the CHEAP stuff!) Making friends. Waiting for the sun to set on the patio at Nepenthe.
Camping out. A smoky campsite fire. Waking up under the redwoods.
Hiking along the coast. Stumbling upon the quirky Henry Miller Library. Breakfast at Deetjen's.
Making the 17-mile drive around Pebble Beach.
More beauty than I could handle.
Catching up with friends at their swanky new pad in Russian Hill. Cherry blossoms in the Japanese Tea Garden. Thick and hot coffee in North Beach. City Lights bookstore. Driving down Lombard Street. Dim sum in Chinatown. A rainy ferry to Alcatraz. A rocky road cupcake and acoustic guitar. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl.
(I haven't uploaded those photos yet.)
It was amazing.
For you guys at home who didn't join me on the road trip, I do have a special surprise ... here's a little game you can play. I call it, "Where's Maggie?"
Picture this: We're in the middle of a dark redwood forest in Big Sur.
There are signs all over the place that say, "Please respect the quiet of the redwoods."
We've even been handed a pamplet about the campsite that stresses "quiet hours," which run from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m.
The boyfriend is at the fire ring, trying with little success to make our wood become more flame than smoke.
We end up burning the Sunday New York Times; when that's gone, we start tearing up the AAA travel guide. (But only the parts where we've already been.)
While he's still messing with the fire, I'm drinking cheap shiraz, straight from the bottle, and dancing wildly in the inky darkness under the big trees.
I feel like a magical wood nymph, a fairy of the forest, a goddess floating through the night ...
Until I stumble into the car and set off the alarm.
The horn blasts. Lights flash. And I can't seem to find the keys to make it stop.
Pitching a Tent April 08, 00:55 a.m. The debacle has already begun.
The boyfriend and I leave tomorrow for vacation, and which will involve some camping.
I've never really camped out before. (The Bonnaroo music fest doesn't count -- that was just passing out among thousands of hippies, with a grilled cheese vendor no more than 10 feet away at any given moment.)
So tonight the boyfriend and I were at a little party and we mentioned the camping thing. And then some guy jokingly said, "Hey, you did make sure your air mattress fits the tent, right?"
And we were like, "Uh, we need to go."
Because we haven't. We haven't looked at the tent at all. We just borrowed the thing from a friend of ours, and then we bought a nice queen-size air mattress this afternoon for extra comfort.
We just ASSUMED that the two things would fit together.
But you know what I've learned? Never assume anything about a tent called The Tadpole.
The Tadpole is small. It's not people-sized. Especially when one of those people is well over 6 feet in heels. (That would be me.)
It actually looks like some ancient fertility dome -- cram more than one person in this thing and they're making babies.
And we don't want babies. Not yet.
So I just returned from a trip to Wal-Mart where I bought a tent big enough for the air mattress and maybe a recliner or two. It even has a lanai. I think it's called The Tremendous 3000.
It's no Tadpole, that's for sure.
Anyway, I'm out for a week. And I forgot to turn on the out-of-office autoreply on my work email. So if you're trying to contact me ... well, too bad, so sad.
I'll share pics when I get back. Wish me luck in the wilderness!
I'm About to Contact NASA April 05, 4:28 p.m. Has anybody else noticed that Rancho Mirage is a gigantic black hole?
Nothing personal, Rancho Mirage. I think you're great. You look fabulous. Have you been working out?
Even so, every time I drive through the place, my cell phone calls are dropped. There's also this Bermuda Triange at the intersection of Monterey and Dinah Shore where I always lose signal on my satellite radio.
I can understand the cell phone thing with those huge mountains and all.
But no satellite radio signal? What causes you to lose THAT? Is there a big bubble over the place? Is Costco sending out some sort of secret interference?
I mean, I even get signal in the desertest of desert. I had signal in Amboy. And yet, I lose it in Rancho Mirage. What the hell is going on?
The truth is out there. I'm just not sure what it is.
Pretty Music in My Ear April 04, 11:14 p.m. Today I watched this Teddybears video over and over in preparation for Coachella. I'm so excited, I'm about to jump out of my pants.
Upcoming Trip April 02, 3:54 p.m. Here's the boyfriend, hiking in the middle of nowhere.
We're spending next week on a road trip together, and I'm a little worried. We haven't spent that many hours together ... oh, ever.
Luckily, my friend Laura gave me the best bon voyage/road trip present ever: a Starbucks card and tiny bottles of Baileys Irish Cream.
It reminds me of my friend Shannon, who used to be a social worker. Before work, she used to add a little bit of whiskey to her morning coffee, just to take the edge off.
At least I haven't graduated to the hard stuff. That bodes well for the relationship.
Dinah in the news April 02, 10:33 a.m. Anyone else see the Sunday New York Times style piece about the Dinah Shore parties?
In case you didn't, here are some of the most interesting parts of the article:
* They describe the party like this: "In the years B.E. (Before Ellen DeGeneres), the Dinah was the province of mostly polo-shirted women seeking a low-key getaway. Now, in the years A.L. (After "The L Word"), it has been transformed into a fashionable bacchanal, nearly a week long, with celebrity guests like Carmen Electra and Joan Jett, large pool parties and dozens of corporate sponsors."
* The story says that when the Dinah was portrayed on The L Word's first season, the scenes were actually filmed in Vancouver. What's up with that, Canada?
* It was interesting how the event is becoming a promoter's dream. From the story: "Once an advertising pariah, the event has become an attractive place to promote their wares, from clothing boutiques and brand-name liquors to television shows and sperm banks." That's pretty true. I love the shopping at Dinah -- you'll never find cuter undies or tees anywhere else. I didn't see any sperm banks, though.
* Also, a spokesperson from Finlandia Vodka (a major sponsor for this and the men's White Party in April), says in the story: "The women drink 40 percent more than the guys." You know, my friends and I had that exact conversation during the pool party on Saturday, but we drew the opposite conclusion. The men sure seem a lot drunker at White Party. Maybe the women just drink more vodka?
Anyway, it was another fun weekend -- I love Dinah.
Oh So Tired April 02, 10:11 a.m. Is anyone else tired after this weekend, what with the Dinah Shore parties and the art shows and the Indio Grand Prix and the Sunday brunches and the cocktails by the pool and the tennis and the wine and the long dinners with friends?
This lady at the Wyndham Resort on Saturday sure feels my pain:
Don't Poke the Bear March 29, 4:29 p.m. How to Annoy Me in 5 Easy Steps:
1. Leave a message on my voicemail saying that I didn't include a phone number for Power of Fitness in my article about Power of Fitness. Especially when I did, in fact, include the phone number.
2. When I return your call, continue to insist that the phone number wasn't included in the story. Even when I'm looking at the phone number printed on actual newsprint and everything.
3. Say, "Well, it would have been a really good article -- if only you had included the phone number."
4. Argue with me some more.
5. Say, "Actually, could you call me back tomorrow? I'm in Wal-Mart."
April Affirmations March 28, 08:22 a.m. Local life coach Leslie Gebhart is doing something really cool throughout the month of April. Here's what I just received in an email from her:
* Do you already know you'd like to exercise more or differently?
* Are you ready to make fresh choices about what goes into your grocery cart?
* Is it time to discontinue smoking toxins into your body?
* Would you benefit from an accountability partner as you increase your emphasis on your optimal health and vitality?
Details:
This telephone coaching group focuses on your choices, decisions and how to make change with ease.
Thr group meets via phone every Wednesday in April 5:15-6:30 p.m. PST -- for a one-time fee of $100.
Phone* from the comfort of your location & you'll find support, community & vibrations of 'YES.'
Using science and clarity about the law of attraction, you'll create a plan to make change with ease, grace and delight.
To add your name to the class list, please call 760.218.8865.
Feel free to invite a friend or relative from any area code.
*special class telephone number provided upon receipt of fee payable to Leslie Gebhart & mailed c/o PO Box 600 Palm Springs, CA 92263. Please include your contact info.
*Long distance charges may apply.
Who is Life Coach Leslie Gebhart? Visit www.lesliegebhart.com or www.lifestylecatalysts.com. Your questions are welcomed.
An overcast day always makes me feel like I'm looking at the desert through a kaleidoscope. Everything has more depth and appears more colorful. Then it shifts and changes.
Cold weather March 21, 1:36 p.m. Last night I went to The Falls in La Quinta to celebrate a friend's birthday. It was frigid outside, but I didn't wear a jacket; I just assumed we would be sitting inside the building.
And I was wrong.
We sat outside on the blustery, chilly night, and the restaurant didn't have any heat lamps.
I hunched over and pulled my cotton cardigan around my arms. I was wearing just a thin skirt, so I sat on my legs to keep them warm.
It was too cold for the mojito I really wanted to order, so I sipped on coffee and Bailey's.
Eventually, the eight of us began pulling tablecloths off the surrounding bistro tables and using them as blankets.
The waiter laughed and then brought us another stack of tablecloths.
"Here are some more blankets for you guys!"
We wrapped them like shawls around our shivery bodies.
My friends and family back home in 20-degree weather might disagree, but damn ... 60 degrees here is COLD.
And no, it's not nearly as scandalous as it sounds. (Well, it sounded slightly more dirty when I mispronounced it and told everyone I was having a Ditka.)
A deeksha is a blessing of oneness in which a guru transfers their spiritual energy into you.
And if I'm ever a guru, that will TOTALLY be my pick-up line.
There were two gurus at the ritual, actually. One was a wiry and owlish older man, the other a beautiful and golden woman.
First the man placed his open hands upon my head while I sat quietly with my eyes closed. Next the lady walked behind me and rested her hands on me -- my head, then my shoulders. Then she pressed her palms together like the classic prayer pose and held her hands above my head again.
I tried to think peaceful and joyful thoughts, but sometimes my mind strayed: My boyfriend. Our recent bathroom flood. The Amazing Race.
Also, halfway through the ritual, I remembered that I hadn't turned my cellphone off. So a good portion of my energy was directed toward the phone, which I was mentally commanding to not ring.
Hey, I don't want to piss off a guru.
Honestly, it was an awesome and powerful ritual. I'm not sure that it accomplished anything. I don't actually feel different today.
But supposedly the spiritual energy travels through your body and works where you need it most. Kind of like Advil.
So it's possible that even I don't know where my deeksha has taken me yet.
And I will say this: It was nice to having someone praying for me. I mean, beyond the normal "I'm praying for your terrible soul" prayers that I get from so many readers.
It just felt good to have these people standing with me, holding me with comforting hands and hoping the best for me -- even if it was only for a few minutes.
Opera in the Desert March 16, 3:42 p.m. I went to THE BEST party last night.
Sherry Halperin -- author of "Rescue Me, He's Wearing a Moose Hat" -- hosted a night of opera and champagne at her La Quinta home.
The singers included the lovely Janet Hopkins, a soprano with the Metropolitan Opera, who commutes from the desert to New York, as well as performers Melody Kielisch and Giorgio Aristo.
Opera is really powerful anyway, but it's even bigger and better in someone's living room.
It was one of those super-sensory experiences that awakens everything in you. My hair tingled, I had goosebumps, I nearly wept. There just aren't enough words for that kind of beauty.
As the night wore on and the champagne flowed, the singers got sillier. They danced and sang funny songs -- one tune was done entirely in meows. A violinist joined the wonderful pianist Dennis Alexander. Sherry jumped in on the bongos.
I can't believe I forgot my camera. I'm kicking myself.
Although, sometimes you just can't capture that kind of magic anywhere except in your mind. Maybe it's better this way.
Go Girl! March 15, 2:47 p.m. The coolest thing about girlfriends is that they can accomplish some pretty amazing things.
Case in point, the Girlfriend Factor.
You might have heard me talk about this local charity before. They're the non-profit organization that I raised money for during the Dancing With Our Stars event.
The Girlfriend Factor is dedicated to helping other women achieve their goals through support and education.
Now, they're giving out the first of their Go Girl! grants. These will be presented to women in difficult situations who want to continue their education.
Please attend the luncheon and support the extraordinary things that women can do.
The Go Girl! lunch will be at 11:30 a.m. on Thursday, March 22 at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in Palm Desert.
Busy Girl! March 14, 10:18 p.m. I feel like I've been running all the time lately, zipping from one interview to another. I've barely had time to come into the office and check e-mails or return phone calls.
