This Desert Life

Last night a loyal clatter follower and his fiancée came over for dinner. I shamelessly broke the rules of entertaining and tried all new recipes (plus an original, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants dessert), at their expense: spinach & meat loaf and winter slaw with lemon/orange vinaigrette from The New York Times Cookbook (more on this tome at a later date), and Julia Child's pomme de terre sautées (that's sauteed potatoes with butter for all those non-French speakers out there). If I wanted to be really tough on myself, I would tell you of the improvements that could have been made had I tried these recipes beforehand, e.g. use one egg instead of two in the meat and cut the amount of butter even more than I did in Julia's recipe. I would perhaps describe how I used a faulty serving bowl for the salad which caused the vinaigrette to drip out of the bottom, or how I should have allowed more time to tweak the tomato sauce for the meatloaf. I'd also maybe reveal that I made the stupid mistake of adding a splash of cream to my melting chocolate, creating a fudge-like texture instead of the silkiness I was striving for. Then I would tell you how I used this misstep to make a crowd-pleasing, Dairy Queen-inspired dessert with chocolate hazelnut chunks, crushed sugar cookies, and vanilla bean ice cream. But I wouldn't want to waste your time on such stories of clatter kitchen blunders. So I will move on.

Meat and potatoes in the dead of winter to warm the body and soul are all well and good, but I will happily take a little break from all that heaviness. At the Portland airport now, I am on the cusp of enjoying the sun of the California desert for the next six days. While I've been looking forward to this and am very much overdue for a vacation, every time I'm in the Palm Springs area, I feel as if I'm caught in some kind of weird time vortex. My clients are often asked by the judge during their hearing what they do on a typical day. It seems like a simple enough question, but they often struggle with it. When I'm in the desert, I can suddenly empathize with them. The days go by quickly, but I’m left with that overwhelming feeling that I’ve accomplished exactly nothing...and I have aged about 50 years.

If I were questioned by a judge what that typical day in the desert looks like, my answer in the court transcript would read something like this: "Well, your Honor, I get up, grab some coffee, sit out on the patio, watch the golfers go by, and hope they don't judge me for still being in my PJs. I read a chapter or two in my book until I start to sweat from the warm morning sun. It's around 11:30 by this point, so I start to think about what I want for lunch. I prepare and eat lunch, put on my swimsuit, head to the pool and read a few more chapters of my book. Some days during this time, I will go shopping for nothing in particular instead and complain to and fro about how everyone on the road is much too old and slow to be behind the wheel. Once pool time or shopping is over, the sun starts to set and I can't focus on anything but the thought and execution of drinking a margarita. After all, it's a cardinal sin not to imbibe alcoholic beverages daily at 5 pm and not a minute after. After happy hour it's dinner time. I won't be very hungry because I will have just eaten a half of a bag of tortilla chips and guacamole, but I eat a full dinner anyway. Then it's time to wind down after such an exhausting day and get ready for bed. I will need lots of rest to do it all over again the next day."

I realize I've painted a picture that life in the desert is a relaxing one, but take heed it's not all fun and games. It has its share of major stressors too: an abundance of water hazards and bunkers on the links, nerve wracking ping pong games, and gripping rounds of Scrabble. And I thought being a lawyer was stressful!

Well, my flight is boarding, so it's time to shut down. Off I go to the land of early bird specials and streets named after old/dead guys!