Plaza di Liberace

On my neighborhood walk, found another Liberace house. For some reason this one made me think of a funeral parlor. Over the years he owned four homes in Palm Springs.

After the Rains

A stream bed had come to life, cutting short our short walk. Recent rains have made any trail that crosses an arroyo (a normally dry creek) suspect. We backtracked and drove back into town to share a grilled cheese sandwich washed down with IPA.

Driving Blue Betty

Finalized details for picking up a car tomorrow. Rather than renting through a traditional car rental company, we’re renting peer-to-peer via the Turo app. Blue Betty (the car) will be waiting for us in a parking lot; we’ll find the key in a lockbox in a wheel well.

View from a Couch

Lying low feels good while we both wait out stubborn colds. A 10-minute walk to a cafe for coffee and Madeleines provided a sufficient sense of accomplishment. We’d rather be up on the trails, but our bodies say otherwise.

La Vie à Palm Springs

On my neighborhood walk, “an Americano for here” became “un Americano pour ici” in Café mon Amour where all the staff speak French. Edith Piaf sang her heart out while I lingered.

Remote Plant Watering

In Minneapolis I lay on the couch, grouchy, nursing a cold, periodically flushing out radiation. From Palm Springs Dwight remotely watered our apartment garden. The plants look good to me, but doubtless he’ll see issues when we both return to Minneapolis at the end of the month.

Corporate Spoken Here

On my walk, looked around a hotel populated by conventioneers who may never leave the property except to fly home. I can enjoy a night or two in a place like this, but it’s poor value: I don’t sit by pools or play golf or want to overhear business jargon.