We got a very welcome surprise this week when my sister Claudia and husband Ted dropped by to see us for a few days.
They live in Temecula, California just a few miles from Bear Creek (Murrieta), where we lived for thirty years prior to coming to Mesquite, Nevada. It’s about a six-hour drive from there, which Claudia and Ted broke up with a stop in Las Vegas for the night.
They stayed at the Trump International Hotel which, according to Claudia, was bright and shiny but had lousy service, pretty much in keeping with the Trump brand.
After a good meal and an evening of catching up on family news, the four of us spent most of the next day in St. George, Utah. Charlie and two medical appointments there and I had the chance to chauffeur our guests around town.
They hadn’t seen the Virgin River Gorge, which is in Arizona en route to St. George, and were suitably impressed. It’s like driving a car through the Grand Canyon: very dramatic. I never get tired of the commute to St. George because the drive is a feast for the eyes.
Our first destination in St. George was an estate sale. Claudia and Ted go to these all of the time and find all manner of treasures. They found this one on the Internet: it was a three-storied house that was jammed-packed with stuff. The man of the house had been a handy guy, a hobbyist, a photographer, and a collector. Claudia and Ted know exactly what they’re looking for and didn’t find anything that excited them. I bought seven good-as-new tools from the guy’s garage and only spent $5.
After dropping Charlie off at her doctor’s, I took Claudia and Ted up to Snow Canyon to see the Tuacahn Performing Arts facility.
Tuacahn is a small-time version of the Red Rocks amphitheater in Colorado, where the stage is in a red rock canyon and the music and lights bounce off the sandstone walls at night.
Charlie and I have never had the chance to see a show there but it’s on my bucket list.
We took a photo looking down into the amphitheater and some of the self-absorbed performers, wearing street clothes and doing a walk-through, got all upset that we were watching them and shouted, “No photos! Delete that photo from your cell phone!”
Sure, I’ll delete it right after I post this blog.
Back in Mesquite, the four of us went down the road a mile or so to a badlands area where some local artist has been sculpting stuff in the sandstone cliffs for the past year or so.
Later that day, the four of us had dinner at the Golden West Casino/Bar (delicious hamburgers, but I had the Chicken Fried Chicken) and then we went over to the Casablanca Casino/Hotel for some gambling.
We lost, of course.
In the evening, we all sat on the couch and watched YouTube videos of big rig truck accidents and boat ramp launch failures. Lots of “Oh, Shit!” moments and laughing at imbeciles who shouldn’t get in a boat, let alone own one.
The boating stuff reminded Claudia and I of our youth, when we always had a nice ski boat and how skilled my Mom and Dad were at the boat ramps that we visited. It also reminded me of the time that my brother Terry and I saw a Class A motorhome submerged up to the roof at the launch ramp down in Long Beach: the doofus had launched something but had ventured too far down the mossy, slippery concrete ramp and had paid the price.
It’s a funny thing: one must obtain a license to drive a car but nothing is required to own and operate a trailered vehicle or captain a boat.
Nothing but machismo.
Anyway, Charlie and I and the pooches had a great two days with my Sis and her guy and can hardly wait to see them again, probably in Southern California during the Fall.
