Coming to you, mostly live, from the Blythe Hampton.
Meanwhile, at the Hampton I am stretched on the couch with a $10 fleece blankie I picked up at the Rite Aid in Blythe while getting water and snacks for my “suite” overlooking the desert and the freeway. And the pool.
This is the least creepy hotel in the greater Needles area.
Feast your eyes on this stunning view and try not to get too jealous.
Got to be honest, reader. I’ve been going through some stuff in my heart and soul. Changing. Growing. Evolving. And while this trip is to see my bestie Betsy, it’s also an attempt to heal more or gain some perspective on . . . everything: what am I doing? why am I doing this? what the fuck is even happening? — those questions. I think those questions are best grappled with by the sea.
So I’m on my way to the sea.
I was going to stop in Joshua Tree, but decided to go the direct route and stop in Blythe which was almost exactly “four hours in.” Sometimes I drive slow, sometimes I drive fast. For this reason I measure drives in hours, not miles.
This morning, driving, I thought a lot about Uncle Al. Some thoughts made me smile, others made me cry, and all along the drive, thinking of him, I looked at sky and mountains and thought, “And now he’s here and here and here — everywhere. He’s not gone.”
This journey is intended to be for my spirit, my soul, but I’m also tending to my body much more mindfully now and when she’s tired, we stop. So though Blythe may not be the spiritual epicenter of the American West, it is the halfway point between Tucson and Ventura. So here I am. And yeah, I’m tired.
But my health, according to my oncologist, is “relatively good.” The main problem in my labs on Thursday were “low potassium.” Basically I just need to eat more bananas, rest, and stop stressing so much.
This morning, I talked with a friend about God.
Yesterday, I talked with a friend about God.
I am thinking a lot about God.
Yesterday, school was canceled because of COVID. Instead of snow days, we have Covid Days now. While I was waiting in a room with a handful of students whose parents were en route to collect them, a kid requested the BeeGee’s, said he wanted to listen to “Stayin’ Alive” and “dance like John Travolta.”
“What do you know about John Travolta?” I asked him. He’s all of twelve. John Travolta is well before his time.
Then he explained that he liked the movie Saturday Night Fever and had taught himself how to “dance like John Travolta.”
So we listened to “Stayin’ Alive” (that we chose this song, on this day was purely coincidental) and he danced for us. And he was quite good. Good enough that my boss and I asked him to do the whole routine again so we could record it. His second time around, he was more polished, more aware of himself, and the kids knew what was coming, we cheered him on and clapped and yelled and laughed.
“And that was God,” I told my friend yesterday. “That moment of joy was God.”
So I guess what I’m telling you, dear reader, is I’m going out Californee way looking for some God.
You really would think I was relocating if you glimpsed in to the Honda. Or that I was living out of the Honda. Whatever. Don’t judge. I like having many clothing options because I never know what band t-shirt I’m going to be in the mood for on any given day.
Actually, when I talked to Betsy last night she told me “pack cozy.” And I loved that. I’ve never traveled to a friend who simply said, “pack cozy.”
I’ve mentioned Betsy on this blog before. We taught together in Flagstaff. We shared a wall. Her music room on one side, my English room on another. Betsy is magic, and she lives — authentically — on a higher plane of existence that the rest of us can’t access without psychotropic helps. Betsy is one of those very rare friends women make in adulthood — the kind of friend who feels vaguely familiar, the kind of friend who you can’t imagine life before or without, the kind of friend we mostly only make in girlhood.
So I’m lucky. I woke up this morning and drove to fuckin’ California because one of my closest friends said “be here” and “pack cozy.” And it will be nice to sit seaside with a buddy who has been ringside with me for the past two years and more.
This is, in fact, my first time out of the state since COVID hit.
Wow. That just occurred to me. The last time I was out of the state was October 2019 . . . in California . . . with Betsy. And students. Lots of students. We took them to the pier and museums and a tightly packed concert in downtown LA. I drove the school van through the city of Los Angeles. In October 2019.
And here I am. October 2021. Emerging from a nearly 3 year hibernation to return to the ocean with Betsy.
Most auspicious. I think.
