Palm Springs

The final stop on our recent US trip was Palm Springs.  Someone asked me, "Isn't that where old people go?"  The answer is N-O.  (OK, a little bit yes, but mostly no.)  You want grammas?  Hitch it over to Palm Desert, honey, where the olds sun themselves like lizards and dinner service starts at 3 pm.  At least that's what I heard.


First, I give your our digs.

The living room:

The exterior:

The pool:

NICE, RIGHT?

This was the payoff at the end of our trip.  Four glorious days, ringing in the new year with dear friends and lounging away the go-go-go stress of the holidays.  

This is how a man enjoys Palm Springs.  

The fridge was stocked with essentials (note the colon tonic at left).  B and I assumed clean-up duties while the rest of the crew cooked delicious treats and mixed yummy cocktails.  Also, more tamales were had so that B and I enjoyed fantastic tamales in THREE cities this trip.  Ohmygod, the tamales.  I have to learn how to make my own to survive, as Sweden has no idea what a terrible tamale shortage it has been experiencing for these many many years.

Here are other photos of assorted palm trees and the like.  I wish I had a photo of the driver waiting at the stoplight next to us with his sunny g's on top of his reggo glasses (that means two earpieces) WIPING OUT a tub of guacamole with a BREADED CHICKEN TENDER.  G and I were marveling  (in the form of yuk-yuk-yuks!) at our luck to behold such a sight when we realized that not only was his window down but so was ours.  At least G will be there with me to relieve this memory for eternity... in hell.  But seriously people, breaded chicken tenders are the new tortilla chips?!  Why did nobody tell me??

But oh right... the photos!

Here he is, the magical G.  Great minds on the chambray shirts, huh?  How do I survive most of the year away from this one?!  We certainly do maximize the time we have together.  And we meet up in some fabulous places, that's for sure.