Palm Desert Escape

The pink gerber daisies left a trail from the Roanoke tavern birthday brunch to the Backes/Dierickx compounds in Indian Ridge-Palm Desert, which is good 'cause I might want to find my way back there someday! The day was full of surprises. I had accepted the invitation to join the girls on an adventure-with girls it is always an adventure-to escape to the desert. It is a diverse group of 5 women all of whom can both kick up their heels and have a good time and be comfortable relaxing or simply discovering their inner child. Standby travel with 3 is somewhat stressful if you are the person in charge. Sue,the flight attendant, took over the role sweetly. Jill and I were the children in the scenario-along for the ride and carefree followers, a great way to start a trip. Jean and Marilyn drove the route, leaving a day earlier and arriving before we landed.

A packed day of power shopping at Cabizon shopping extravaganza then home in time to change clothes and head out to a round of golf in the 94 degree weather! Cheap as we are, we had found a deal (that's us, always looking for a deal) for $29 for a round of golf, but we did have to play in the heat of the day. Hole 4 found both Sue and I fishing for our golf balls in the pond and as luck would have it the ball I had on the end of our fishing gadget teetered on a cliff side ridge. "Leave the ball and let this guy play through" yelled Jean. The ball appeared to be in the basket and on the way toward my reaching hand when Sue and I looked up to see Mr. Red Shirt on the tee ready to tee off. "Just a minute" I said. "Just leave it, he's going to play through" Jean replied. We walked back to our waiting cart barely on the edge of a narrow fairway. "Whack" and the ball flew over out heads and off to the far side of the ruff. "Sorry,Let me just take another one". "Whack"-the audacity of a not perfect player to ask to play through at the expense of my sinking ball! This prompted the song "Mr Red shirt, who do you think you are, Mr Red shirt" to the tune of Mr Big Stuff. We laughed about it the rest of the trip. As we melted in the heat Mr Red shirt appeared again behind us after another hole and stayed behind us till we quit on hole 12. A stalker?

Monday we had a lesson from Jean on erotic pool aerobics. You had to be there as the pool boy came by to heat up the pool. Sue and I were taking instruction from Jean now doing the frog move. "Push it down...harder...feel the burn...harder...now faster...harder". I was nearly in tears as I quietly asked her to switch exercises, but she didn't get it and she didn't see the pool boy either. "Faster, harder...okay!" She switched and the pool boy walked down the other side of the pool and disappeared into the restroom. Jean got it, and we all belly laughed till we were sore and the exercises and language deteriorated till we had to get out or drown.

The dancing divas of the Yaya sisterhood gathered to prepare and feast on dinner of marinated shishkabobs, rice and salad followed by white robed, crazy hat club clan who danced around and sang with the likes of Cheryl Crow, Frank Sinatra and my favorite, It's a wonderful world by Louie Armstrong. Then we joked about what crazy things we could dress up as for Sue's upcoming Halloween party including dumb bald (instead of dumb blonde). Not so reluctantly I became the center of attention as the girls sang a chorus of Happy Birthday to me and dressed me in a white robe seating me in Pete's favorite reclining chair and at the direction of Jill, the cosmetic expert from Nordstroms, proceeded to give me a facial and massage that took 3 years off my age. I should have been ready for bed after that, but we flipped on the TV to see the devastation of the San Diego fires where Sue's sister had been evacuated from her home with wonders of whether or not her home and possessions had survived.

Time to explore the place and release my real estate inner child to the throws of Palm Desert. Anyone needing a second home? Early morning with sunrise warming the crisp desert air I took the golf cart out to explore the houses-don't go too far-all the houses look the same-what street am I on? Sue called her agent, Judy, to give us a tour, even though our self guided tour had already lead us to a house Sue was interested in that had conveniently been left unlocked. Like Curious George we were all over it, the respectful adult side of us leaving it as pristine as we found it. Suddenly hearing noises we devilishly concocted excuses for why we might be there. "Did I leave my cover up here?" The pool feature was most inviting. "It's okay, I'm a real estate agent".

We scheduled Pilates class with Mariko at 11. Marilyn had a loose agenda written on the white board in the kitchen. House maintenance was on her to-do list. Plumbing issues and a details the trained agent eyes picked up. My morning mission was to get a card reader for my camera so I could download pictures from my camera but as always, m mind was multitasking. "Marilyn, where can I get photo equipment". "Walgreens is right down the road, take my car." In unknown territory I ventured out on a mission and prided myself returning just as the gang was convening for Pilates class with my own bag of tricks-a handheld sewing machine for easy mending, card reader for the camera, safety corner for a deadly corner cabinet that was bound to bite some unknowing guest...I had found Home Depot (almost by mistake) and returned without getting lost and in time for Pilates class! Pool time, sun time, down time, and soak up the sun time then off to tour with Judy. We hit several homes in Indian Ridge an several more in Palm Valley with tours of the respective clubhouse and facilities.

Our last evening out took us to The Nest for some wild dancing with all 5 women in their tiaras, down to karaoke singing which we almost missed, and out to eat and check out the lighted shopping strip where we will no doubt return some day when it is open and we have more money.