Golf courses can be strange places. You arrive at the pro-shop, pay your money, and anything can happen after that. Yesterday, our golf partner immediately starts talking about "The Secret" - a book. It's about extremely successful people who simply kept wishing for success every day every hour, and that this desire formed its own energy, and finally they got what they were wishing for. "What you think is who you become".
The guy calls himself "Scottie". Enormous. Big shoes. Flat feet.
He drove truck for 20 years. Then his life starts falling apart. Loses job, loses wife, goes into free fall. Somehow, he gets on the Oprah show. She is chatting with a woman who espouses the philosophy described above. Scottie gets interviewed from the audience and tells his story. He gets hired by this woman's company. He hauls equipment and lighting to all the live shows put on by this woman and her husband. I am adding a YouTube link so that you can get a feeling for what this lady is all about.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTb6mKAwftA&feature=related
Scottie says that his life has changed completely because of this woman and her philosophy.

Today we start talking with the "starter" - the guy who gets you on the first tee. He says he can put us on in 17 minutes. Meanwhile a smallish woman walks over to ask if we are the "Rices". "No? Oh I was wishing you were the Rices and we thought you would be perfect to golf with."
All kinds of things can happen in a golf lineup. Someone doesn't show up. Someone is late. People start talking to each other. Our case was a perfect example. The starter shouts "Rice?" "Rice?" "Is there a "Rice" here"? No answer. He walks over to the smallish woman. We are standing together at this point. "You and your husband were supposed to golf with Rice?" "Yes, but if there is no "Rice", we would be happier golfing with these folks" indicating us. "That's just fine", the starter says. "You're right after this foursome".
Such is a game decided.
It can be fun, or not fun. Partly fun, and sometimes little bits of everything.
In this case, the smallish woman played golf quite a bit better than the husband, so he starts telling jokes. The more poorly his game went the more jokes.
In a perfect golf world, we shake hands while sharing first names. Conversation is sparse, impersonal, but at-a-distance friendly. We are all there to play golf and try to get a good score. Not to win friends and influence people. Hand shakes again at the 18th. The end.

Tuesday is ground maintenance day for the "Desert Princess" - the gated community in which we're living in Palm Springs.
First thing in the morning, the equipment arrives in golf carts, the motors rev up and men appear from everywhere. A lot of them are wearing the equipment in harnesses on their backs. They speak Mexican, and yell at each other, clap their hands, and generally scurry about. No dilly-dallying. Even the "pool guy" is here this morning moving some sort of tall pipe back and forth, back and forth. The biggest grass cutting machine has a good looking driver - and he can make that tractor do a tango! Goes so fast and weaves itself in and out of corners and rock decorations, never misses a beat. Then the men on foot follow him with little grass cutting mowers on their backs. You don't want to be coming out of the shower and brushing your hair in the bedroom at that time. Then the third level guys do the raking and clipping. When they clear out, we're left with the manicured scene you see in the picture above. I just snapped it.
It's astonishing that the desert is so compliant. We're told that as long as the plants have water - you can stand back and watch it grow. The constancy of the moisture is more important than the amount of moisture. I can't comment on added fertilizers, but we are left with the feeling that a desert can become a lush green space surprisingly easily, and inexpensively. Go figure.
All of the workers are Mexican, happy, good-natured and intent on getting the job done well.
Their neighborhoods are not fancy. Their houses humble. The gated golf course communities support them I would think.
On a road trip the other day, we drove through the real desert. Quite beautiful in multicolored pale golds, slightly reddish, and very nubby. The closer the highway takes you to human beings and their communities, the dirtier the desert gets. Debris everywhere. The desert is too delicate for debris. Sad statement about us.
Hey look! Hummingbirds in the shrubs outside my patio door! Beautiful!

"AVATAR"

What's all the buzz about the movie "Avatar"?
Because I seldom go to movies, but still want to know about them, I go to the New York Times. The New York Times knows EVERYTHING.
I used to get simple movie reviews. Now I get clips of the movies. So many clips that my grandchildren will think I've seen the movie when we share our favorite parts.
James Cameron ("Titanic") made the movie. He had the script for "Avatar" in a drawer for some years, but there wasn't enough technology to put it together the way he wanted. Finally he decided it was time.
It's about a distant moon called Pandora in the year is 2154.
The hero is Jake. He has signed on with a corporation that’s intent on extracting a valuable substance from the moon called "unobtainium". (You can go ahead and laugh. James Cameron decided to be a bit funny.)
The natives of Pandora make this difficult and they are awesome fighters.
So a plan is born. Make some look-alike Pandorians, infiltrate the natives and change their minds about letting the mineral be taken.
The story line follows Jake who becomes one of the look-alikes and is sent to carry out the plan. Of course he falls in love with a female Pandorian, and in the end switches sides. (same old same old)
It's lush. The exotic creatures include an astonishment of undulating, flying, twitching and galloping organisms. They don’t just crawl through the underbrush; they thunder and shriek, yip and hiss, pointy teeth gleaming. A fan said "The film is so visually stunning that at times it leaves you breathless. The animation, special effects and real scenery are absolutely seamless. It is a breakthrough film technologically speaking."
As Mr. Cameron says "You'll know you're not in Kansas anymore!"

the Tiger saga

"I feel sorry for Tiger".
Merv always laughs when I say this. I think he's laughing because Tiger's got so much money. That whole thing about - if he has a lot of money, why would you feel sorry for him.
But I still feel sorry for him. When I think about Tiger's Dad, I can't help but feel that Tiger is devastated right now. His Dad would be so disappointed in his son. And what he's done to his reputation.
I feel sorry for his kids. I wonder whether they will ever know their Dad very well, or be very close with him.
And I suppose like everyone else, I'm surprised that he handled his "other life" so badly. He would never lose that kind of discipline on the golf course. He would never lose that kind of concentration on the golf course. Everything about his "other life" seems to fly in the face of the kind of guy he is.
Think about it. His tournament face is a sombre one. Rarely smiles. Never laughs. I don't think he has a "silly" bone in his body. He's basically just your ordinary guy, not emotional, not artistic or creative, not the kind of guy who cracks up at a joke, or acts out. Just a straight ahead, ordinary type of guy.
His Dad would mourn for him right now. Surely we're not heading into an "O.J. Simpson" scenario here! Please Tiger, not that! Don't sink to that.
I want the old Tiger Woods back.
Could we start over again?

Desert life

Palm Springs is an interesting city. It's in the desert surrounded by dramatic wind propellors. And it has a vaguely Las Vegas characteristic - you know how you can be driving down a crowded street in Las Vegas with bright lights and energy vibrating from the casinos - when suddenly you're right next to 3 acres of desolate property filled with burned out grasses and dirty gravel. Palm Springs has those moments.
Every year we've come here, it seems to have grown another 30 miles.
We stay in one of those "gated" communities - where you drive up to the traffic control centre - have your credentials checked and then enormous gates open and let you in. You drive down endless streets that all look the same - with the green green grass of the golf course on both sides. When those gates clang shut, you're not sure whether to be happy or sad. This policed entrance seems to have been there for 30 years, so people must still feel that they need protection from the big bad world out there. When we were moving luggage, we parked a little off the designated area, and came close to getting a ticket from some official policeman or something!
It's very pretty! Every blade of grass seems to have been studied and probed and proper treatment administered. A cast of hundreds do this important work. The vistas are solidly and overwhelmingly green and lush. Trees are trimmed, hedges carefully managed, flowers lovingly tended. This could easily be B-roll for one of those web sites where you sign in to fashion your own neighborhood, family, and friends.
These gated communities are popular here. The natives assure us that there is virtually no crime in Palm Springs. But still, they are popular. The residents beyond the gates seem happy to pay for the policing, the formal lawns and gardens, and everything else that adds up to a fairly healthy monthly charge.
Palm Springs has the Bing Crosby bar and the Frank Sinatra bar, the Buddy Rogers Street, Dinah Shore Drive, and Date Palm Highway. Every shopping mall plays "White Christmas" and everyone shows you Bob Hope's house on the mountain. Americans are good at promoting their heroes, and Palm Springs especially promotes entertainment biggies because they picked out Las Vegas and Palm Springs and literally propelled them into existence. These were masterful moves.
But all this talk about Palm Springs is not the real story. The real story is the weather. While our homes back in Canada are inundated with cold cold cold and snow snow snow, we're on the golf course basking in warm sunshine and lush meadows!
The golf? Courses everywhere. Wanting your business. Offering this, that, and the other. Sometimes it seems as if there are more Canadians here than Americans. You're more likely to get partnered with a couple from Edmonton, than a couple from Los Angeles.
We're researching. Arizona is our next stop. We'll get back to you.

Dream

"Suppose last night you had two dreams. In one, God appears and commands you to take a year off and travel the world. In the other, God commands you to take a year off to go work in a leper colony. Which of those dreams, if either, would you consider meaningful? Or suppose you had one dream in which your friend defends you against enemies, and another dream in which that same friend goes behind your back and tries to seduce your significant other? Which dream would you take seriously?" This opens a New York Times article about dreams. It goes on to say that finally we know whether dreams are good or bad and how to interpret them. The rest of the article says no one knows for sure.

My dream was like a video. I'm on a mountain lift - one of those things that take you for a ride up the mountain. It's an incredible view - desert with mountains and a lot of sky. Right near the top, I know that we're falling - falling to our death. I hold up my cell phone, and we (not sure who my companion is) both smile a big smile for the picture. Then it seems I win an award for this astonishing picture. I'd had a restless kind of night - leg cramps. Sleep was scarce and I believe this dream happened in the latter part of the evening.
It was a very clear story, clear enough that when I woke I played it over in my mind. I felt sure I had the story line down pat, but I had done this before and knew that I had to scribble the outline somewhere or it would be gone.
Sure enough. I start describing it next afternoon, and it's gone. I came back here and found it scribbled on the side of a newspaper crossword puzzle.
I've heard that it's good to dream. It's the way the brain cleans itself out. Or something like that. I don't know whether that's true or not. The brain is a very complicated item - perhaps. Or also it could be that it's just like a video that replays stange clips sometimes in the right order, and sometimes in the wrong order.

"the poor little thing!"

I noticed her right away - "not a baby anymore" girl child in a harness on her back - facing her mom's back with legs spread out dangling back and forth. And that's what they did. The mom was walking quite fast - enough to make the legs dangle back and forth.
We were sitting close to the gift store on the ferry in an outdoor eating area. The Mom went into the store, but even then she slowed only a little. In fact this pace was why I started watching her. Somewhat frantic about it. Another reason was the age of the child. This was not a Mom trying to get a baby to sleep. There was something else going on. The little girl seemed happy enough.
We moved around a bit and I lost track of her.
The weather turned cold and we wandered indoors. A main area with lots of empty seats. Football on TV.
Suddenly she was there again. Up and down the aisle right next to us. Same pace but the little girl looked unsettled and weary.
I started working on my crossword puzzle. A family of Mom, Dad, and 2 little boys were having a wonderful game with puppets and this took my complete attention for a spell. They had window seats and suddenly I saw her again walking quickly on the outside deck. A wicked cold wind. The little girl was crying hard and moving her head back and forth. The Mom ignored this, kept pounding back and forth. The same piece of deck, up and down, up and down. No sweater on either of them.
When she appeared inside I realized why it was the same piece of deck. A young man sat at a table with a lap top open. She stopped there and started rummaging in a bag lying on the seat beside him. Everything came together in that instant. They were a couple and there was something amiss between them. She was pounding that same piece of deck because he was sitting there and couldn't miss her. By this time the little girl's face was red from the cold and the crying. My heart went out to her. Something distant between man and child made me wonder whether this little girl was his little girl. Saying nothing, her mom took something out of the bag and disappeared. 10 minutes later we were heading down to our car. I never saw them again.

Breakfast at Denny's

We hear it as soon as we open the door.
"You have a good day now!" "Can I get you more coffee?"
Americans have always been good at service. They seem to like their jobs. They seem very happy to bring you food, keep you happy and take your money for it. As well they should.
"Denny's" in Bakersfield, California was full. Every table. Every booth. When you walk into a place like this for a good breakfast, you know they are doing something right.
We are taken to a clean table and promptly have a cup of coffee put in front of us.
I want granola and fruit. It is new on the menu and seems tied in with a bigger breakfast item.
Our waitress explains that the granola will cost me $2.95 and the fresh fruit $3.95 if I don't take the bigger breakfast item. I say okay.
Merv orders his breakfast. She looks at him with a smile. "Sir, if you make a small adjustment to your order, your wife can get her granola for 49 cents and her fruit for 59 cents! We'll just make it all one order."
We are very happy with this and away she goes.
The breakfast is delicious.
And somehow they have figured out how to keep you happy without constantly being in your face. They put a thermos of coffee on your table. They slip in and out the odd time, adjusting this or that, but never do you feel put upon or pestered.
A friend said this was because jobs are so hard to come by here, that they have to do all this to keep their jobs.
I don't agree with him. We have been in the U.S. many times, and many years ago. This service style was around then, and is exactly the same now.
In Canada, service people often make you feel that they wished they were anywhere but there. That life dealt them a bad blow when they had to resort to "waiting on tables".
Not Americans. They wish you a "good morning", give you their opinion of whatever comes up in the conversation, make sure that you get the kind of order that you want, and send you on your way with a cheery "See you again!"
I like that.