seasonal affective blah
The gray sky and monochrome environment have really been getting to me. I’ve been anxious and listless and desperate all at the same time.
Usually when it gets this dull, I get homesick for the desert where I grew up. At this point I could hug a palm tree- even one of those short, spiky ones with the fan- shaped leaves, though I’d prefer to hug one of those gorgeous 200- foot graceful palms that line Palm Canyon Drive in Palm Springs.
It’s the perfect temperature there right now: mid- 70’s during the day. If only my hometown hadn’t been overrun by gangs to the point that the neighborhood grocery store is dangerous to traverse alone. The last time I went there to visit- as my parents were permanently moving out- we were almost carjacked.
Palm Springs- at least parts of it- are still relatively safe. I’d like to visit again one day and hike Taquitz and the other canyons again, maybe even go up Mt San Jacinto on the tram. At least I know to stay out of Gateway (Northern Palm Springs, but not North Palm Springs, which is another town entirely and kinda scary. One of my friends was shot to death there when I was 17) and the Dream Homes (East Palm Springs, where a developer in the 60’s or 70’s started building a housing plot and ran out of cash, so it crashed and is now one of the area’s most affordable and most dangerous neighborhoods). Gateway and the Dream Homes were the area’s most notorious rival gangs when I left. While visiting Palm Springs, CA, stay as far south as possible, and don’t carry all your cash or any credit cards in your wallet. Anything north of Vista Chino is not safe, at least the last time I was there.
The area of Indian and Palm Canyon Dr. (parallel streets in the downtown area) around where Peabody’s Cafe and See’s Candies are is still pretty and peaceful and safe and fun. It’s where I got addicted to coffee and chocolate and blues guitar.
So here I am in the drudgery of the last great expressive BLAH of winter, but at least it’s a peaceful drudgery. Nobody is playing guitar for me currently, but when Cody is done burning his old ones in our backyard fire… er… fire box, maybe I can get him to play me some blues while I break open a whiskey bottle.
I can’t wait for our tax return to get here. We’re already planning on putting some flag stones down and cutting some Kokopelli shapes into the fire box, but I really want our yard to look pretty. My dear husband, for the life of him, can’t figure out what I see wrong with this picture:
-sigh-
Hopefully I’ll have some “after” pictures up for you soon in a blog titled “landscaping on a food stamp budget” or something. Until then, I’m going to make some s’mores with the family. Gooey chocolately marshmallow stuff generally cheers me up as long as I don’t think about where the chocolate probably came from.
February 13 2010 04:07 pm | culture and kids and life and mental health and photography and utah
February 14th, 2010 at 2:58 pm
Why, oh why, would someone burn their guitars?
February 14th, 2010 at 5:48 pm
They were actually old parts of guitars that he never really got around to making whole guitars out of.
February 15th, 2010 at 7:43 am
I’m missing Palm Springs too. I’ve been chilled to the bone since December. I’m trying to remember what warm felt like.
February 16th, 2010 at 10:27 pm
Huh, I have always heard Palm Springs is where the rich people in California go to play.
Why oh why are those guitars being burned? Wah. Or maybe I should say wah pedal.
Hope you can see some greenery soon.
February 19th, 2010 at 5:56 pm
The only think I have ever associated with Palm Springs, are the windmills near Mariahs Pss, the Tram and Bing Crosby for some reason.