Mendocino to Portland

I am in Portland now. I left foggy, rainy Mendocino yesterday morning headed for Eureka (via Rt.1 to the 101). When I got to Eureka (where I was contemplating spending the night), the rain had picked up and wasn't supposed to let up until this afternoon, so (after some barbequed oysters and chowder) I decided to keep trucking to Portland (via 101 up the coast to 199 east through Six Rivers Nat'l Forest to 5) so I could get here one night earlier than planned and be in the same hotel for two nights in a row. A very exciting notion these days...totally worth twelve hours of driving in the pouring rain. The rain was coming down so hard for the last few hours before I hit Portland that I couldn't see the road most of the time, but I just kept telling myself, if there is a big truck in front of me (blinding me with water spray), I must be in a lane...

This afternoon I visited the Lan Su Chinese Garden and had Jamaica on the brain the entire time I was there, mostly because while I resisted the "flower freak" label she tried to stick me with our final night together, I can't really deny it anymore. My moment of truth was at the Peony blossom exhibit when I found myself taking close-ups of my favorite blossoms without anyone forcing me to. When Jamaica and I were on the road together, I was all about my scenic and/or car shots and would only take close-ups of blossoms when Jamaica dragged me over by my elbow and made me do it.

As I took shot after shot of my favorite blossoms this afternoon, I couldn't help remembering our last night together when we rolled in the door around midnight (after the showdown with ice, ice baby) and I immediately sat down in her living room and started tearing through each of her flower books to come up with the names of the only two flowers we had seen our entire trip that she didn't know the names of. After I had done my frenzied page flipping through one book, then another, then another, I looked over and saw a fourth flower book in her lap and said (probably with a little crazy in my eyes), "are you done with that? Can I have that? I need to look at that." She looked over at me slowly with one eyebrow raised and said, "well, my dear, I think you've become a bit of a flower freak." To which I immediately responded (enjoying a nice big scoop of denial with a little bit of rationalizing sprinkled on top), "No, I'm not! You're the flower freak around here, not me. I'm just a curious person. I just don't like not knowing things." Prompting her to inquire (still studying my slightly crazed face with one eyebrow raised), "Really, sweetie? Really? Because you seem very much like a flower freak to me. You look like a flower freak (gesturing to the flower books strewn around me), you're acting like a flower freak (I think she was basing this on my refusal to go to bed until I figured out the names)..."

Finally, I cracked (though I told myself I was just appeasing her), "Fine, fine, I'm a flower freak. Now will you just help me? Please?" Satisfied that she had made her point she took a couple of the books back and we spent over an hour reading through them all to no avail because these two flowers weren't in any of the books. We finally gave up and went to bed, but first thing in the morning she got the names from a friend...because she's devoted like that. So, I am posting two pics of my two favorite peony blossoms because I know they will put a smile on her face...and because, thanks to Jamaica, I am a certifiable (probably in more ways than one) flower freak.

Hall of Brocade Clouds (houses the Peony exhibit)

Peonies and Poetry

More Peonies...

"Cora Louise"

"Color Magnet"

For those of you who prefer redwoods to peonies, this is the redwood I drove through in Leggett...

...and these are some redwoods that I drove past as I worked my way through the Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park (via scenic old 101 north of Orick)

On the 101 somewhere between Eureka and Crescent City (where I picked up 199)

San Francisco to Napa to Mendocino

Just walked into my hotel in Mendocino and definitely feel like I walked into an episode of Murder She Wrote. From the rocky coastal scenery outside that I grew up seeing on that show every week to the clusters of elderly locals, all bundled up in wooly sweaters, having cocktails at the bar while they gossip in hushed voices...it's pretty surreal. I have to say though, that I still don't understand how it never seemed to bother people through all those seasons of Murder She Wrote that the ocean was on the wrong side of the coastal scenes. The sun doesn't set over the ocean in Maine, kids (in no small part because the ocean is off the east coast of Maine). Never has, never will. You heard it here first.

Now that I got that off my chest, let's back up. I ended up spending an extra night in San Francisco and after hitting Cafe Tartine in the mission Tuesday morning, where I had the greatest ham and cheese croissant I have ever had (there are no words...), I headed for Napa.

By the time I checked into a B&B in town and headed out to do a couple tastings, I was starving. So, I hit V. Sattui first because I heard it had a great deli, which it does, though the wines I tasted were unremarkable. Then I made a pilgrimage to Charles Krug (where Robert and Peter Mondavi both started out before their big feud sent Robert packing). I was glad to hear that they made up in '06, two years before Robert passed away. As for the wine, I tasted about 7 Family Reserve and Limited Release wines (all reds) and they were all interesting and high quality, but none of them really measured up to my favorite Italian wines (example--'99 Barbi Brunello Di Montalcino--I like my reds fairly dry and acidic with just as much emphasis on earthiness as fruitiness and I only like a really full bodied wine if the body factor is all about packing in as many nuances as possible rather than simplistic heaviness in the mouth). That said, my favorite wine at Krug was the 2006 Limited Release X Clones (100% cabernet, only 450 cases produced) because it had such a smooth and refined, but very firm, structure and a nice acidity that genuinely made me wish I had a steak to go with it. The only California wines that I like as much as my favorite Italian wines (and a couple French--not many French faves though because so many good French wines are overpriced, particularly compared to their Italian counterparts) are from Shafer, but their tastings are booked at least a month in advance, so doing a tasting at Shafer was not an option because I am not remotely that organized.

Today, after pounding a couple iced coffees and a scone at Napa Valley Coffee Roasters (great coffee), I headed to Mumm to do a sparkling wine tasting. I was going to hit Beringer for a tasting too, but it never happened because I was having too much fun at Mumm sipping 5 different sparkling wines on a beautiful sunny patio looking over the vineyards while munching on dried fruit and nuts and crackers and returning a big chunk of calls that needed returning. I also strolled through this great photography exhibit they have up until the end of September--Paris Icons by James Scholz, which made me miss Paris so much that I renewed my little vow to myself that I would get there twice a year no matter what.  I was there for a week in March (seems so long ago), so I just have to get there once more this year to be in good standing with myself.

After I left Napa, I made my way to Mendocino via 116 through the Russian River Valley and up the coast on Rt. 1. The stretch of Rt.1 from Jenner to Mendocino is my third favorite stretch of road so far-basically one big roller coaster ride with its never-ending switchbacks combined with stomach-dropping dips and climbs all the way. Added bonus--everyone had very good etiquette and pulled over to get out of my way as fast as they could when they saw me fly up behind them. Just one gorgeous stretch of road with nothing but team players on it. Fabulous. The downside was that I didn't stop to take any pics because I didn't want to make everyone I had already passed pull over for me again because I was feeling all this peer pressure to be a team player. I will try to focus more on picture taking and less on being a team player tomorrow. That is my promise to you.

San Francisco through the Golden Gate Bridge

A freight ship passing the Point Bonita Lighthouse as it leaves San Francisco Bay

Rodeo Beach

Two comparison tastings at Mumm (the Santana came later): (1) The slightly sweet tasting--Cuvee M v. Demi Sec and (2) The sparkling red tasting--Sparkling Pinot Noir v. Cuvee M Red (96% pinot noir and 4% syrah).  I was a big fan of the Cuvee M Red and now I can't wait to get home and order some so my mimosas can be prettier than everybody else's. That's right, you heard me, I said it.

Quick Update from San Francisco

For those of you who emailed me wanting to know where I am at the moment, that would be San Francisco. Yesterday my friend S and I drove up here from Palo Alto nursing brutal little hangovers after a night of Korean BBQ and Korean karaoke with the Knight Journalism Fellows at Stanford. The beginning of our demise was when the owner of the Korean karaoke place heard that these journalism fellows were in the house and was so honored that he sent a complimentary bottle of scotch to our private room. Given that I was the only scotch drinker in the crew and that wasting liquor is completely against my religion, my wildly hungover fate was pretty much sealed. S could have saved herself, but being the devoted friend that she is, agreed to help me finish the bottle (she knows how important my religion is to me) and so suffered the same fate. We nursed coffee and water all the way to the Cliff House overlooking Ocean Beach where we could start nursing alcohol again over lunch. Once we had enough alcohol in our systems to carry on, we did a little driving tour of the city, complete with a trip down Lombard Street, before I dropped her at the train station.

As for today, I spent it walking through Chinatown (stopping to fortify myself with a little dim sum), little Italy, Ghirardelli Square, the Aquatic Park, Fisherman's Wharf and eventually back downtown via the Embarcadero. Late for a date in the Castro right now. My itinerary for the next few days (for those of you who like to know where I am at all times) has me here for one more night, then off to Napa/Sonoma, Mendocino and Eureka before meeting up with a posse of Caymans and Spyders in Portland on Saturday.

Seemed to be a little miscommunication with the woman who ran this "cocktail lounge" in Chinatown when she came outside after seeing me take this picture. Her: "Yes? Yes?" (pointing emphatically at the cocktail that comes with the plastic little girl on top); Me: "No, no"; Her: "Yes? Yes?" Me: "No, really, no." Not totally positive what she was selling, but somehow totally positive that I didn't want to buy it.

This is how you spell Jack Kerouac in Chinese. Don't say I never taught you anything...

Alcatraz from Municipal Pier

The Golden Gate Bridge from Municipal Pier

Monterey to Yosemite to Palo Alto

Just arrived at my friend's place in Palo Alto and haven't seen her since I visited her in Paris over a year ago, so I am keeping this short in the name of quality time with one of my favorite people in the world.  

After a walk and some lunch in Monterey, I headed for the 17 mile drive, then into the Carmel Valley so I could do a tasting at the Bernardus Winery. After the tasting, I continued through the valley on the Carmel Valley Road, which was my second favorite driving road of this trip (for those of you who haven't been paying attention or have shoddy memories, that would be second to the River Road outside Big Bend in TX). This road never lets up, it just sucks you from one amazing curve into another through some of the most beautiful farmland I have ever seen before finally opening up at the end right before you pick up the 101 into a wide open straightaway lined with gorgeous vineyards. The curves were so tight with such dramatic changes in elevation that I really felt like my car was built to drive that road. I can't think of a car fast enough, nimble enough and perfectly balanced enough to keep up with me--all Cayman S drivers should put driving this road (and the River Road for that matter) on their list of things to do in life.  

Around 10pm I ended up at a motel in Los Banos because I was exhausted, it was dark and raining and I hadn't had dinner yet. I had the following conversation the Indian guy who checked me in after he noticed my car through the window: 

IG: "You are driving dat Porsche?"

Me: "Yup"

IG: "It's very nice Porsche"

Me: "Thanks"

IG: "I am very much liking dee German cars"

Me: "Yeah, me too. They're great" (thinking: please just give me my key so I can eat before I pass out)

IG: "Do you know, I am having a Porsche."

Me: "Oh, really?"

IG: "Yes, my Porsche is being a nine tventy-eight" (he looks at me, his eyes glittering with mischief) "Would you like to be seeing my nine tventy-eight?"

Me: "Sure, that would be great."

IG: (laughing hysterically and pointing at a bug-eyed fish in the fish tank on the counter) "Dis is my nine tventy-eight!!!" (doubled over laughing now) "Are you getting it???? Dis is my nine-tventy eight! Are you getting it???"

After assuring him several times that I was getting it and that it was a very funny joke, I finally got my key. This morning I worked my way over to the South Entrance of Yosemite (via 152 and a bunch of farm roads that got me to 41), then took 41 up through the park to 140, which I took over and out. It was a very pretty drive, but it was raining the entire time I was in the park, so I just stayed in my car and chalked it up as a nice relaxed driving day since it couldn't be a hiking or photo op day. So excited for quality time with an old friend...turns out driving around the country by oneself is a pretty lonely existence.  All the great strangers and sights that have crossed my path so far don't measure up to one old friend.

17 Mile Drive

17 Mile Drive

Carmel Valley Road

Carmel Valley Road

I think I can take him . . . without even putting down my camera to shift.

Things have come a long way since 1910 . . .

1910 Locomobile (complete with spare tire), made me appreciate my windows as the rain closed in.

Anyone need any farm equipment? Going once . . . going twice . . .

LA to Monterey and the Girl Who Would F*ing Die for Me

I arrived in Monterey around 11pm last night after 11 hours on the road (the last two and a half winding along the PCH in the dark with dense fog and rain, dodging most but hitting a couple of the big rocks strewn across my lane--not fun at all, but that's what I get for leaving the agenda up to some wildly hungover, sleep deprived girl). I need to go check out Monterey before I head for Yosemite, but have to quickly share this highly edited version of the story of my last night in LA (the unedited version will no doubt be in my book).

I was at a certain establishment, spending some quality time with the only hot girl who was working at this establishment, and her boss kept coming by and pestering us and making weird little snide remarks, prompting me to ask her if this guy was always such a jackass and her to explain that no, he was just doing it because I was gay and never bothers her when she hangs out with straight customers. When he reappeared a moment later and fired off one more comment, I was done. I followed him out to the main room and proceeded to dress him down to nothing in front of about 20-30 onlookers to the point that when I was done and asked him if he had anything else he wanted to say to me, he just shook his head like a scared little kid. I think the nicest thing I said to him was something like (after a quick recap of my credentials), "if you think I'm going to let some short, fat, illiterate, homophobic illegal immigrant harass me because I'm gay...you are out of your f*ing mind." 

Now, the girls who work at this place hate this guy because he harasses them all the time. So, when I returned to the hot girl whose eyes were just wide with amazement, she grabbed me and hugged me and when she was done laughing hysterically, but still hugging me so hard it was hard to breath she said, "I can't believe you just did that. You are amazing. Oh my god, I f*ing love you. You have more balls than anyone I have ever met. I can't believe you just went out there in your f*ing bare feet (I lose flip flops easily) and said [maybe I'll tell you exactly what I said in my book] to him. I would die for you, girl. You are the most amazing person I've ever met. I would f*ing die for you." To which I replied, "yeah, that was pretty awesome...even though I'm going to be kicked out in about 20 seconds. totally worth it." We sat back down and waited for the bouncers to come for me while she repeated her favorite lines over and over, until we were laughing so hard we were crying. After about 10 minutes of reliving the smackdown, the bouncers still hadn't come for me and she said, "I can't believe it. I've never seen this before. He's so scared of you, he's too scared to try to throw you out. Oh my god, this is amazing. Unf*ing believable. I have never seen him scared of someone before. You are so fierce and brilliant and amazing, I would f*ing die for you."

When we realized that I wasn't going to get kicked out because this guy was too scared to tangle with me again, I said I might leave anyway because I just wasn't going to have any fun there at that point. To which this girl replied, "if you go, I'm going with you." Knowing they were short staffed to begin with and that she was the only hot girl working that night, and that basically that place was screwed for the night if she left, I asked "aren't you on until close? If you leave with me now won't they fire you?" To which she replied, "I don't care, I seriously would f*ing die for you. I just want to be able to hang out with you for one night before you go. I'll meet you by the door in 5 minutes." Which she did and then grabbed me and spun me in the direction of the bartender and shouted to her, "do you see this girl? I'm leaving with her because I would f*ing die for her." She proceeded to deliver the same message to her boss, the bouncers, the cab driver (to whom she told the entire story complete with direct quotes) and a few innocent bystanders just walking past on the street.  

Somewhere around the fifteenth time she pledged her willingness to die for me, a cautionary flag went up in my wasted little head because her level of enthusiasm reminded me of a crazy slovakian model I met the last time I was in LA. The short version: (Day 1) Danced all night, made out for a few seconds on the dance floor, wouldn't let her come home with me despite (or because of?) her begging, but did exchange numbers with her so we could grab dinner the next night; (Day 2) woke up to 7 missed calls and 27 text messages from her and sent her a nice brush off text telling her some work had come up that I had to deal with asap and that I wouldn't be able to see her before I left town; (Day 3) she showed up at the chateau in the middle of the night demanding to be let into my room and, when they wouldn't give her a key after calling my room several times and getting no response, camped outside my door for hours leaving me several text messages and voicemails begging me to let her in so she could "say goodbye" because she knew I was leaving the next day (must have stalked me online for hours to come up with my last name because she only knew my first name and the city I was living in at the time).  

At any rate, after a quick drunk analysis of the mental health of the very hot girl who would f*ing die for me, I decided she was more passionate and wasted and full of big romantic notions than genuinely insane and I let her come back to my hotel with me for a fabulous (though sleepless) night. Everytime I picture her jackass boss's face when he realized she was walking out with me, and that they were screwed for the night, still puts a big smile on my face. Not sure I would die for her, but that girl was solid. I'm all about loyalty and fighting the good fight. So, when she asked when she would see me again in the morning and I said I would call her the next time I was in LA, I meant it.

The PCH between LA and Santa Barbara

Sleepy, smelly sea lions off the PCH

Night and fog closing in around me on the PCH...the driving rain and resulting rock slides would come later when it was pitch black out just to really test my skills...

My Long Lost Brother

So, I'm resting in LA for a week, staying at the chateau (always feels like home-mostly because my full size fridge here is stocked with nothing but alcohol and red bull...just like home) and sleeping until 3 everyday, trying to gear up for the next six weeks on the road. I love to spend my evenings here just sitting out on the patio people watching while I work my way through a bottle of wine, which is exactly what I was doing when I met my long lost brother the other night.

I was on my fourth glass of wine when two of the four guys at the table next to me started chatting with me and shortly thereafter asked me what my plans were for my week in LA. Now, whenever guys start chatting me up, I always immediately put something out there about being gay so I'm not wasting anybody's time. So, I replied jokingly that I had a tentative line item on my LA agenda to hook up with Lindsay Lohan if the opportunity presented itself, but other than that my agenda was pretty open. They both burst out laughing and exchanged a knowing glance, whereupon one of the guys asked me if I knew who he was. I told him I didn't, but based on the fact that the four guys were all wearing matching ensembles, my money was on them being some boy band. Turns out the boy band imposters were Tyler Shields (the guy who took the picture of Lindsay with the gun in her mouth) and his posse. Tyler is very smart and intense and immediately started drilling me about whether I really want to hook up with Lindsay, if she's my type, etc. Now, my "type" can be a long and complicated topic (though the short version is that I do tend to date ridiculously beautiful closet cases who I want to save in some way), so I invited them to join me at my table. After we talked about girls for a while (most of which I promised Tyler I wouldn't blog about), I told them about my trip and the conversation quickly turned to Tyler and I one upping each other in the bad behavior department.

After going back and forth for a few rounds, Tyler finally upped the ante with "have you ever been in a police chase?" Resigning myself to the fact that I was going to lose this bad behavior battle, I settled back into my chair for the following story (though I have to leave out some of the details to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent). Tyler (who used to do a fair amount of racing when he was younger-from motorcross to F1) was hanging out one night with 2 of the top 3 executives at a big household name public company a while back when he was too young to even have a license. One of the execs was so drunk and coked up that night that he told Tyler (who doesn't drink or do drugs) that Tyler was going to have to drive his Dodge Viper because he couldn't. The other exec had a low end ferrari and a lot to prove. So, they left where they were partying and a little road racing ensued, with Tyler (a young kid in an American car) running circles around the guy in the ferrari, making said ferrari guy very angry. Finally they pull up at a light and ferrari guy, enraged by the humiliation, starts insisting (shouting, screaming, etc.) that they drag race out of the light (this was the first indication of what an idiot ferrari guy was because his car didn't stand a chance against the viper, but I digress).

Knowing the viper will easily crush the ferrari, Tyler agrees and puts it in second to start, so when he pops into third, it'll be game over. They take off and rocket through the next intersection doing around 130 and all of the sudden (he tells this story just like I tell my Marfa story-siren sound effect accompanied by swiveling index finger) one cop is tearing down the road after them and then a second cop joins the chase. At this point, ferrari guy pulls up next to Tyler and starts waving frantically that they should turn onto a side street to get away from the cops. Tyler, knowing he can outrun them easily, refuses and just stomps on it. This is when dumb as a box of rocks ferrari guy decides to try to make a 90 degree turn at 130+. The next thing Tyler sees is the front end of the ferrari flying past his passenger side window prompting him to look in his rearview mirror just in time for a quick glimpse of one of the cop cars t-boning the ferrari. At this point I had to interrupt and ask if it occurred to him to just pull over and talk his way out of it (I mean, if I wasn't so charming, my Marfa story could have been a police chase story too-I just decided to cut my losses once I got in the multiple felony zone instead of piling more felonies on top, but I guess this is one of those things about which reasonable minds can differ). Tyler just shook his head and explained that between the totaled police cruiser and all the coke that the passed out guy next to him had on him, pulling over was not an option.

Now, back when the viper first came out it was the fastest street legal car out there, capable of 250, which Tyler knew. What he didn't know was that there was a governor at 180 which made his plan to outrun the cop much more challenging because he couldn't just leave him in the dust, though he was putting distance between himself and the cop who was doing about 120. When he hit 180 on this highway out in the desert with the next exit about 30 miles away and the car wouldn't go any faster, he realized his initial plan wasn't going to work because they would have time to have cops down the road waiting for him before he could exit. So, he turned off all the lights and, having put some serious distance between himself and the cop, turned on the next dirt road he saw that took him out into the middle of the desert. Needless to say, there was a whole lot of bottoming out going on and pieces of the viper were flying off left and right as he raced down this dirt road as fast as he could. Eventually, he got far enough out into the desert that he thought the cop wouldn't be able to see him and he turned off everything and just sat there in the dark trying to figure out his next move. After over an hour had gone by without the cops or a helicopter making an appearance, he realized he was probably in the clear...except that he somehow had to explain what had happened to the owner of the pretty much destroyed viper, who was still completely passed out next to him.  Or not...

Brilliant (slightly evil) Tyler picked the guy up, moved him into the driver's seat, woke him up and started berating him for almost killing poor little Tyler with his police chase shenanigans. By the time he was done, this guy was totally wracked with guilt and apologizing over and over for endangering Tyler's life. Of course, the truth came out later when this guy bailed his fellow exec out of jail, but by then Tyler was long gone...

Love that story and Mr. Tyler Shields. By the time we were done talking, I was pretty much convinced that we had been separated at birth and reunited not a minute too soon, because I never heard from Leisha (I've heard since that she has a gfriend and the woman she was having dinner with did stalk off as we were chatting, so I'm thinking that might have something to do with me not hearing from her ;-)) and still need someone in LA who will bail me out as necessary. It occurred to me that maybe Tyler isn't the best person to have on call to bail me out since the odds are very good that if I end up in jail, he'll be there with me, but then I remembered his boy band and I'm sure one of them will come get us, so I'm feeling like I have a pretty good bail out system in place.

Latest development on the what I'm going to do with the rest of my life front: Jamaica did get me pretty excited about the idea of being "a commander," but last night Tyler texted me around 11 about still being stuck at work...bullwhipping a supermodel...and I'm thinking the bullwhipping supermodels gig might be an even better fit for me. Now, I'm pretty sure that Tyler thinks he has the bullwhipping supermodels market locked down at the moment, but let's just say that I think the market might shift very quickly when these girls learn about all the body shaping and hair styling techniques (see below) that I can share with them if they start playing for my team. Just sayin'...

The Mojave and Death Valley

As promised, as soon as Jamaica came home Monday, we set off for the Mojave National Preserve, but decided to pass it and head to Needles for the night and then come back to it in the morning (a) because Jamaica was bent on seeing the Colorado, her “absolute favorite river” because, if you ask her, the Mississippi “is just tawdry, so dirty, so tawdry”; (b) Jamaica thought it was important that I see the Eastern-most town in CA because it’s the closest thing CA has to the wild west; and (c) Jamaica has an inexplicable fondness for Best Westerns to the point that I don’t think she would stay anywhere else if there was a Best Western within 50 miles (and there is a Best Western in Needles-so that settled that).

In the morning we made a quick pilgrimage to the Colorado (which was crystal clear and lovely, not tawdry at all), then worked our way across the Mojave Preserve (south to north), continued north from Baker to the east entrance of Death Valley Nat'l Park, then travelled west through the park and finally, home. It was a solid 13 hours of driving 85-120 (broke 120 3 times after explicitly asking Jamaica if she wanted to have some fun and getting an affirmative response). Our entire 13 hour journey, Jamaica (who first cemented her notoriety in the literary world long ago with her gardening column in the New Yorker) was calling out every flower we flew past (and screaming at me to stop for the very rare ones). We literally only saw two flowers all day that she didn’t know the name of. Mindblowing.

Non-wildflower oriented highlights include Jamaica figuring out what I should do with the rest of my life: "be a commander.” She was very adamant that this is my calling, as I am “so brilliant, so fearless and so utterly intolerant of any sort of incompetence.” This revelation came to her somewhere after the third time I pulled over and took the map away from her so I could figure out where we were going. Her conviction was reaffirmed at dinner when I confronted a table of blind drunk, unbelievably obnoxious guys who were making it impossible for anyone else in the room to hold a conversation. After exchanging multiple eye rolls and head shakes with our fellow diners, I finally went over to these guys to ask them to keep it down, whereupon the ringleader in his black shirt, black suit and gold chains stood up and shouted at me “hey baby, why donchu chill out and have a drink and get on our level." My response was something like, “um, I’ve actually already had two bottles of sake and I still think you are the most obnoxious people I have ever had to be in the same room as in my lifetime…jackass.” 

After I had them moved to another room and returned to my table, getting little thank you nods and smiles from our fellow diners, Jamaica’s immediate response was, “that’s why you should be leading our troops! That was wonderful. Oh, our fearless leader.” After a moment of thought she continued, “I’m just so glad nobody got shot. I really thought they might pull some guns out, especially that ice, ice baby one. Do you think he’s that ice, ice baby? It could be, looks just like him.” “No,” I said, “I will grant you that they might share a wardrobe and a lot of fashion tips, but I don’t think that’s actually vanilla ice.” Nodding her head in thought as she picked her chopsticks back up, she concluded, “well that was wonderful, really well done and I’m so glad nobody got shot. I’m telling you, you’ve really missed your calling. All your men would be so happy to follow you into battle...and they probably wouldn't even get shot!”  She was adamant enough that she got me thinking about whether I really had missed my calling, but then I remembered that I am gay and that my girl ban will expire in a year and a half and I would have to start all over again as a boring lawyer then, so I decided it was probably best not to run off and join the military just yet.

Also included in the non-wildflower oriented highlights has to be doing 100 down the highway with Jamaica dancing in her seat next to me, both fingers snapping in the air, singing every word of  “Rock Steady” by the Whispers.  That is one that I will never forget.

Finally, I promised Jamaica I would tell my readers how I've stayed "in such great shape" over the last six weeks of eating junk all day and all night and almost never exercising, so...I eat beef jerky all day and do 100 push ups when I get to my hotel every night.  She seemed to think that my beef jerky and push up diet could really help some people achieve the body they have always dreamed of. Now combine that with the secret recipe for my fabulous windblown hairstyle that I shared in my "Ready to Launch" post and you might just wake up gorgeous one of these day.

Jamaica was very excited to find this rare Desert Milkweed between Essex and I-40

Mojave: Jimson Weed/Sacred Datura with the Kelso Dunes (or as Jamaica calls them, the "Nothing Dunes" because they are nothing compared to the Imperial Sand Dunes) in the background.

Mojave: Indigo Bush, Joshua Trees and the Amboy lava fields in the background.

Death Valley: This hungry little coyote prompted quite the window war between Jamaica and I-I kept trying to put hers down for a better picture, while she kept trying to put it up because she didn't "want to die with that thing attached to [her] neck." He was so cute and hungry...I wanted to just hug him and give him whatever the equivalent is of a 16 ounce ribeye in the coyote world...but Jamaica said no.

  

Death Valley: Artist's Drive

Death Valley: Artist's Palette (and Jamaica)

Death Valley: Badlands around Zabriskie Point

Death Valley: Wildflowers, from front to back--Mojave Sun Cup, Apricot Globemallow, Indigo Bush and Prince's Plume (top left corner-long stems with yellow flowers).