It Might As Well Be Spring - Shouldn't It?

Has spring sprung? According to my calendar, it began at 12:07am GMT - otherwise known as Greenwich Mean Time. I googled GMT and discovered it's seven hours ahead of PDT. Last year this wasn't a problem. We were in Palm Springs, which at its coldest is spring-like. It's a two to two and a half hour drive - depending on who's driving. In spite of being considerably lighter than my husband, I seem to have a heavier foot. Nevertheless, we know we're almost at our hotel when front yards are stones and cacti instead of grass and shrubs.Our hotel doesn't allow children under age of sixteen. Oh, darn. My husband and I have to talk without being interrupted, never have an opportunity to yell and realize we have things in common besides our sons. Some guests golf. Others play tennis. We used to run, but now we leave that to road runners of the feathered variety. Instead, we relax by the pool.By midday, when other guests gather around the pool, there's a screen test - a sunscreen test of tanning lotions and potions - everything from a white plastering of sunblock to bikinis that barely - in the true sense of the word - block anything. When it comes to tanning, my husband is a 15. I don't mean to brag, but Bo Derek and I are both 10's. When it comes to swimming, you soon realize pools are as necessary in Palm Springs as fireplaces are in New England. One provides warmth. The other provides inspiration to send warm wishes via postcards to family back east, who undoubtedly shiver with gratitude when they receive them. When I'm not in the water, I'm drinking it - flushing my system, so to speak - not surprising for a plumber's daughter. My husband's a fireman's son, but he doesn't like fighting heat. When he wants to take a walk, we leave our air-conditioned room, get in our air-conditioned car and drive to the air-conditioned mall. While he exercises his cardiovascular system, I exercise my IV amendment right of search - for bargains. Breakfast and lunch are bargains - we make them in our kitchenette. We make reservations for dinner. Because I'm part Indian my husband thinks handling reservations is in my blood. Without air conditioning, Palm Sprigs would still be Indian land. According to my grandmother, women don't perspire, they glow. Without air conditioning I'd be a Knight light.
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About the Author: KNIGHT PIERCE HIRST takes humorous looks at life. Take a minute to make yourself smile at http://knightwatch.typepad.com