Too Cool

During the early months, one of us would sit her diaper-clad bottom on that space. Learning to crawl, she tenaciously moved her small body up the slight incline to settle comfortably on what she dubbed the 'cool tile' when she mastered language. Located immediately inside the door at our old house, this rectangular entryway provided a welcome transition from the often blistering sunshine. Our daughter always loved her 'cool.'



Now a grown-up twenty something, she lives in her favorite city, subsisting on sunless days and plotting desert getaways. For the most recent sojourn, she informed me that she'd be packing light. Three 'S's' were being tossed somewhat cavalierly into a carry-on bag. No need for anything more. Sundresses, sandals, swimsuits (3).

As the date approaches, weather.com forecasts unwelcome numbers. It's mid-April, not January. What's happening here?

Arising at an unseemly hour, Caitlin and her jaunty gentlemen trio fly south then drive north. They're destined for one of her personal meccas....Magic Mountain Amusement Park. Fortunately it's dry, not uncomfortable and rather reasonably crowded. Let the roller coasters undulate. She blithely chooses to ignore the respiratory infection that invaded her body the previous evening.

Nearly twelve hours later, there's a bright rental car in our driveway and a quartet of exhausted revelers spilling out its doors. Caitlin, Bobby and their Portland buddies, Conor and Jonathan, are here to eat, tan, tour the town, converse with relatives, and swim. The night sky does not look friendly and by the next day, the temperature is chillier than predicted.



For such a short visit, the agenda is impressive and exhausting.



Start the day with breakfast at Cheeky's. Drive by special sites with commentary from the native daughter. Drag the chaises to the pool deck and slather on the sunscreen. Wishful thinking meets triumphant determination. That evening, a rare rainstorm rages, bringing snow to the mountain peaks.



Guests arrive for a long-anticipated family dinner. There are no sad faces. The unwelcome weather surprise makes good conversation.

More food and drink to consume at Tyler's (famous for its burgers), Cactusberry (frozen yogurt), Rio Azul (Mexican treats), Toucan's (friendly bar and room to dance), and Lulu's (even better breakfasts.) She did it. Hit all the places on her formidable list.

Saturday afternoon is warmer. The spa heater kills a bit of the chill, but our pool is still frigid. Resolve that dilemma by cajoling the neighbors to share their solar blanket heated pool. Bliss. Four happy Oregonians. Maybe more than happy, euphoric.



Even with the return clock rapidly advancing, there is time to linger in the backyard, sit in a shady spot and read electronically, catch up on e-mail, talk about the upcoming return visit in June.



It's time. Suitcases crowd the trunk. Jeans are once more the appropriate apparel. Swimsuits are stored. There's a small bag filled with 'car cake,' remnants of the beloved Lemon Apricot Cake that might not make it all the way to the Long Beach Airport. It's such a temptation and contains fruit, so how bad can it be?

The traditional departure photos will remind us of a few days when the desert was too cool.



For always bringing us so much warmth, we