This woman is amazing!!!!

You have to watch the entire thing....one moment after another will amaze you.

Palm Springs White Party

Brody and me...at the White Party Tea Dance.

So Palm Springs was amazing- after not having been there for 3 years. Saw lots of familiar faces- out at Hunters and Toucans and El Mirasol (probably the best Mexican restaurant around).

Mark and I checked into the Las Palmas Hotel...a smallish place on Palm Canyon- and upon arriving, discovered that the pool was clothing optional. Surprise surprise... Some things are better left to the imagination.

We danced every night- at the bars, while Brody went to the White Party events- the Military Ball and the White Party. Of course, he got a free ticket to the events. Ah, to be 23.


Brody in White Party Prep



Brody and his friend Lani in Glam White Party Drag.
What's a father to do?

I had to shell out the $100 plus food and drink tickets to go to the Sunday Tea Dance. But it was a good time... red bulls and dancing. Mark got LOTS of attention from some San Diego boys.
As I mentioned to a friend...there was lots to SEE and DO at the party. One guy, Nordic, bearded- the most handsome guy there- in a sea of pretty boys.

We also saw David and Ken in their house on the windy side of Palm Springs- and met David's family who was visiting for the week. Awesome people. Something about six kids all running around the house- puts life in perspective.

Mark and I also hung out with "B"- an Indianapolis bank president....LOL and his cohort Tony.
Tony told us the story about a guy he was flirting with at Hunters. Seems Tony asked the guy, "If I were to have plastic surgery, what should I have done?" The guy responded- "Have your mouth sewn shut."
Hysterical.

So we flirted with tall guys named Trent...and drank and danced...and drove home late on Sunday night. All good.

Until I got home to the hundreds of boxes that still needed to be unpacked from my move.

When I was little, I thought that I had magical powers- just like Samantha on "Bewitched," or Jeannie on "I Dream of Jeannie." All I needed to do was figure out what part of my body to twitch to get the magic to happen. Hours spent as a child working on this.

Still wish I could figure it out.
And then those boxes would fly...

Starbucks is great

Because when they ask you for your name...you can suddenly be anyone.
I have a friend who says his name is "Brando."
I tell them my name is "Essen"-
they always look at me in an odd way and I
end up having to spell it for them.
E-S-S-E-N

Of course, the lie has to be maintained.
One day I went into the local Starbucks and the
gal behind the counter said "Good morning Essen."
I was dumbfounded.

And then I quickly replied..."Good morning."

I'm not generally crazy about Garrison Keillor but...

Heard this poem on Writer's Almanac the other day...
and it made me smile. I realized as I looked around the boxes filling up the rooms in my new apartment- boxes filled with years and years of impulsive purchases- sweaters worn once- books never read- shoes that looked good but pinched too much to wear- artwork and furniture that somehow now defined me...that what we buy is many times a reflection of what we aspire to be rather than what we truly are.

Poem: "Unwise Purchases" by George Bilgere from Haywire. © Utah State University Press. . (buy now)

Unwise Purchases

They sit around the house

not doing much of anything: the boxed set

of the complete works of Verdi, unopened.

The complete Proust, unread:

The French-cut silk shirts

which hang like expensive ghosts in the closet

and make me look exactly

like the kind of middle-aged man

who would wear a French-cut silk shirt:

The reflector telescope I thought would unlock

the mysteries of the heavens

but which I only used once or twice

to try to find something heavenly

in the windows of the high-rise down the road,

and which now stares disconsolately at the ceiling

when it could be examining the Crab Nebula:

The 30-day course in Spanish

whose text I never opened,

whose dozen cassette tapes remain unplayed,

save for Tape One, where I never learned

whether the suave American

conversing with a sultry-sounding desk clerk

at a Madrid hotel about the possibility

of obtaining a room

actually managed to check in.

I like to think

that one thing led to another between them

and that by Tape Six or so

they're happily married

and raising a bilingual child in Seville or Terra Haute.

But I'll never know.

Suddenly I realizeI have constructed the perfect home

for a sexy, Spanish-speaking astronomer

who reads Proust while listening to Italian arias,

and I wonder if somewhere in this teeming city

there lives a woman with, say,

a fencing foil gathering dust in the corner

near her unused easel, a rainbow of oil paints

drying in their tubes

on the table where the violin

she bought on a whim

lies entombed in the permanent darkness

of its locked case

next to the abandoned chess set,

a woman who has always dreamed of becoming

the kind of woman the man I've always dreamed of becoming

has always dreamed of meeting.

And while the two of them discuss star clusters

and Cézanne, while they fence delicately

in Castilian Spanish to the strains of Rigoletto,

she and I will stand in the steamy kitchen,

fixing up a little risotto,

enjoying a modest cabernet,

while talking over a day so ordinary

as to seem miraculous.

What the hell?

Found this online and thought it was hysterical.

Had dinner with Brody tonight...and we're both fighting colds and grumpy with people and work. A dynamic duo. I credited the full moon. Or the stress of moving. I have to drive back down to San Diego tomorrow night and get the last few things from the house there.

It's incredibly stressful to be surrounded by boxes and years of crap- that you have to put away, thinking to yourself that you'll be moving it all again in a year.

It's a sickness.

Looking forward to Palm Springs this weekend. Lots of friends down there: Barry, Gary, Mike, Chris, Dave....etc. Haven't really been there in two years, since selling the house...but that's another bitter story. LOL.

I'm road tripping with my friend Mark and staying at the Las Palmas Hotel. Won't come back until Monday morning because the damn hotel has a four night policy as it's White Party weekend.

OF course I'm bringing the dog, because I'm incredibly lame. I can hear myself now...."Wanna come back to my room? Don't mind the 90 pound beast." The partial truth is that there is nowhere I can leave him...and I feel bad that he's been so displaced...don't even have a dog-walker for him, so I have to come home every day at lunch.

Had dinner with Mark last night- and made the statement, surprisingly, that I was ready again to be in a relationship. I've been playing the monk now for a few years. It's nice to feel that I can rejoin polite society. And so back to dinner, Brody said he was thinking he didn't want to be in a relationship now...it was all too much. I know how he feels.

Below are more pics from the cruise. Videos coming soon.

On our balcony.

Me, Arturo and Kurt...at the last tea dance.

Boys at the 70's Disco Tea Dance. Probably the best party of the trip.

Brody and I talked about doing the Brazil, Argentina cruise next Spring. Will keep you posted.