Palm Springs, Pt. III

So...here we are.

Just shy of one year ago, Mark, Dennis, and I all plunged forward into Palm Springs, renting a small location in the quiet, lovely gated golf community of Desert Princess, located on the north end of Cathedral City, just a few minutes traipse away from the airport yet clear of its flight patterns. Our first place was small and basic but got the job done: getting us a toehold into the town. We quickly appreciated what Palm Springs had to offer three middle-aged gays not into the gay scene: serenity, beautiful winter weather,  year-round pool access, gorgeous views, free citrus from the many trees around, and frequently delicious food. We also learned that our location was prone to high winds and dust much of the time, and that life in California was quite a bit more expensive than Colorado. We also experienced the annoyance of trying to enter the community at the mercy of license plate readers that couldn't do their job and complaining to HOA representatives that didn't care.

Six months afterward, we moved within the community to another place—this one, a two-level villa that boasted a pool directly onsite, perhaps the most gorgeous view from a back patio I'll ever have, and an attached garage. The downsides this time consisted of the travails of a desert summer: heat that climbed as high as 118 combined with a western exposure and one heat-averse Dennis meant that we ran the air conditioning way too much in May. Our prize? A $1000 electricity bill. So, we immediately raised the ambient temperature from 73 to 78, blasted the fans all the time, and eventually fled town for most of the rest of the summer. The second half of September, however, was pretty lovely.

Two days ago, we moved again, leaving Desert Princess and its wind and dust behind (hopefully), and settled in what feels like a mountain getaway in the Cove, a section of Cathedral City that juts southward beyond the 111 (one of the very few sections in the valley that does) and feels like a quiet enclave. On the surface, it's an ideal location; many people have encouraged us to move down here, and our location, near many other parts of the valley (especially where the 111 is concerned), is quite nice. The house itself is much more spacious than our previous two domiciles, and it feels like when summer hits, we'll be able to avoid the heat perhaps a bit more. Oh, and there is a pool onsite. A truly lovely one.

However. It's been two days, and I can't shake my skepticism about where we are. There's a sense of "welcome to Austria!" when you've expected to land in Spain. I guess the last year has built up in me a sense of what Palm Springs is supposed to be like, and this mountain retreat just ain't it. It's darker, more gloomy, with the outside walls painted gray and dark green. The inside is likewise pervaded by grays and darker woods and rustic-feeling (and behaving) furniture that looks bulk-purchased from Cost Plus and Pier 1. Meanwhile, the kitchen is a serious IKEA kitchen. It feels like whoever designed this had...some idea in mind of what aesthetic to pursue, but couldn't quite land it. Contrast this with what Palm Springs is: mid-century modern, light, bright, bold, colorful, exciting...heck, gay, and happy. If nothing else, this place needs a serious smudging (or as we wypipo should apparently call it, smoke cleansing). Not just sage, as I've learned, but sage and something alongside. I'll have to research this, then do it while at least Mark is not around; I'm not sure how into stuff like this he is. Dennis will be much more open to it.

At any rate, energetically, this place needs to change somehow. Maybe even get a few beeswax candles and burn them. (This, despite the many Buddhas around the home.) My work is clear at this point.