I would give you a blow by blow account of what I did on my long weekend except you'd fall asleep reading it, and bonk your nose on the keyboard, and I'd hate for that to happen. All I did was sleep, eat, talk, shop, and read. It was incredibly relaxing. I love my parents' home, and I really like Palm Desert. I only wish I could do a bit more sightseeing when I'm there, but unless I rent a car I never do. It's been ages since I went to the Living Desert Museum, or Joshua Tree National Monument, or even Palm Springs. Instead, I usually go shopping on El Paseo, the main street in Palm Desert, and I never miss the flea market (or crafts fair or whatever they're calling it these days) next to the Palm Desert Community Center on the weekend. The rest of the time I loaf.

It's an enticing lifestyle. I often wonder if this is where I'll end up: warming my bones in the desert sun, tanned year round, smiling and greeting all our friends who have flown in for a month or the winter, wearing genteel pastels or tasteful neutrals. I don't think so, though I love the desert. John and I aren't part of this social strata. We don't play golf, or tennis, or attend church. We haven't managed our money properly over the years, which is to say we've squandered it on travel and toys, so we won't have a comparable income when we retire. We will, however, have a similarly far-reaching social network. We are, after all, science fictions fans, and as fans are fond of saying, Even Death Will Not Release You. I simply can't imagine where we'll retire, though. Still too far away to take seriously, I guess.

One of the things I do when I'm visiting my dad is check my memories against his. We sometimes have quite different versions of mutual family stories, and I like to get it straight. I'm also likely to get rather graphic reminders of what an odiously forthright child I was. He trotted out a long-forgotten story about me in response to my saying how surprised I was in 1985 when my Mom told me I wasn't a "people person," a disagreeable revelation to me at the time. I'd always thought of myself as being quite outgoing and sociable, but as someone else once pointed out, I am only that way with people I like, and I don't like all that many people.

Anyway, I had no memory of this particular story. It involved an unexpected guest dropping by and my parents serving her some freshly popped popcorn. I loudly announced, with what I assume was outraged indignation, that the guest was eating all our popcorn! Rude and greedy, how charming. I wasn't all that young, either, probably 12 or 13. I was forever embarrassing my parents in this manner as I rarely found any adults very interesting, had awkward social skills, and tended to speak without thinking of the consequences. It's a miracle my parents ever let me out of my room, really.

So that was fun, chatting over old times, and catching up on family stuff. We don't pursue genealogy much, but I mentioned that I hear from Huntzingers all the time who are not related to us, and my dad said that's right, it's a far more common name than people suppose. It's French, which a lot of Americans find unlikely, thinking it sounds German, but there are Huntzingers all over Alsace. In fact, a Huntzinger is the French ambassador to Israel right now, but I don't think we're related to him.

Of great interest to me was the news that my brother will be visiting Palm Desert later in the month. I am hoping I can entice him to stop over on his way north and paint our house. This is what he does for a living, and he does a great job. I'd like to get the outside painted for sure (I'm campaigning for something distinctive and colorful), but I secretly cherish an ambition to get him to do the insides as well. In particular I long to have a warm shade of persimmon on the living room walls, and painting the room would spur me to finally replace the hideous Miss Kitty's Western Saloon light fixture that is there now. It would have the added benefit of generating income for Mark at a time when he needs it, and I'm very happy to do so if I can.

I don't feel a strong sense of family, but for the last several years I have tried in my own non-people person way to appreciate my relatives for who they are now, leaving the baggage of the past behind without giving up the memories of how we got here. I particularly value spending time with my Dad and Mary Lou because they're such thoroughly decent, kind, and loving people. I hope I'm becoming more like them as I grow older.

Though I still have a problem keeping my mouth shut. Some things never change.

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