Coachella 2013 - The Year of the Sandstorm

Coachella 2013

The following is a guest post by my little sister Kyrsti, my partner in crime.

Day 1

The weekend began with the familiar feeling of anticipation, the sun beating down on our faces, the dust rising in the air, and the faint sound of music drifting into our ears.  We could hardly contain our excitement as we walked onto the grassy polo fields on Friday afternoon.  Coachella 2013 had officially begun.

From Baby Jesus to East Jesus - Part II

Sunday afternoon at The Range, Slab City

... Continued From Baby Jesus to East Jesus - Part I

Hopefully you haven’t been holding your breath for too long.  Please resume your regular breathing immediately.  You’re turning blue!  In the last post, we mingled with the ghosts of old Hollywood along the shore of the Salton Sea.  Now, let’s get to East Jesus before the sun goes down. 

From Baby Jesus to East Jesus - Part I

Photo Cred: Saul Escobar

In February, my friend Marcela hosted a Baby Jesus Tamales Party, a Mexican tradition that begins with the sharing of Rosca de Reyes, or Kings bread, twelve days after Christmas.  The person who finds a plastic baby Jesus in their slice of bread must host a tamales party on February 2, Dia de la Candelaria.

At the Baby Jesus Tamales Party, I met Saul, an artist from Mexico.  Using my high school Spanish and his iPhone translator app, we shared enough words to have a conversation.  One word stood out from the rest: adventure.

Saul had trouble understanding the meaning of this word, even in Spanish.   He admitted that he had not been on an adventure in a long time, but his friend Cain had invited him on a tour of Slab City, a squatter campground inhabited by artists, vagabonds and Canadian snowbirds.  I convinced him to go, and he agreed to take me with him.

A Sand Castle for Giants

Shredding the Kelso Dunes

Over winter vacation, I found myself wanting to feel like a kid again.  I had two weeks off of “school”, and I was going to make the most of it.  Sledding is an activity that has the power to make the most serious grown-up feel like an eight-year-old.  You can do it in snow or on sand, and you don’t have to drive more than a few hours from Los Angeles to do both.  With that in mind, my sister sidekick and I set out on a two-part sledding adventure.

Desert Fever: Road Trip to Salvation

Last Friday, my little sister and I headed down to Palm Springs for the weekend.  When I told her I'd be waking her up early Saturday morning to get "saved", her only question was "What should I wear?"

Ever since I made the New Year's Resolution to get into more trouble, my little sister has been my biggest supporter in kicking off my goody two-shoes.  She is my good bad influence.  Even if she's been out partying until 4 am, she will show up at my door by 8am, ready for whatever I have in store.

Desert Fever: A Look Inside My Time Machine

The Integratron

I used to view the desert as the kind of place where you don’t stray far from the swimming pool.  I should know better.  One of my favorite childhood memories is camping in Death Valley in 132 degree heat, where the only swimming pool within 50 miles was 95 degrees and standing-room only.

The desert is anything but a barren landscape.  It’s a blank canvas that has inspired rocks musicians, UFO hunters, and artists alike... Oh, and little old me.  So far, my work of art includes a time machine, a secret waterfall, and some painted mountains.  All set before the bluest sky you can imagine.  Now let me paint you a better picture, starting with the time machine.

The Last Poppy

The Last Poppy

I have this fantasy.  I am running through a field of golden poppies.  No shoes.  Just soft velvety flowers underneath my feet.  The skirt of my dress dancing in the breeze.  The sun hitting my face and the wind tossing my hair in every direction.

Reality check.  Running barefoot in a field is not pleasant.  There are rocks.  And snakes.  And last I checked, stepping on a California poppy is a punishable offense.

Once Upon a Time in the Desert

If only this house could talk.

As promised in my previous post, I'd like to tell you another story.  This one is about a magical fairy, a blue-bellied lizard, and house with eyes.

In February, I called my friend Stacey and told her I wanted to go on an adventure.  I met Stacey in preschool before I could count to ten.  She is a magical fairy, a yoga teacher, a vegan chef, a raw chocolatier, and a world traveler.

Stacey told me she was going to take me to a special place called Liberty Advance, a yoga retreat center near San Diego.  On that weekend, we would join a dozen teachers who had volunteered to do some maintenance on the retreat property.

When we arrived on a Friday night, I felt a little disoriented.  The light from my hi-beams led us down a dirt road for several miles.  When we reached the end of the road, the house greeted us with two glowing eyes that had been painted on the second story windows.