notes on life : desert, desert, never deserted

It's 5:54am. There's low, flute-y music piped into the pool area, which we are adjacent to, and I'm sitting outside on our private patio, blissed out.

I'm always a little confused when I write desert, knowing that desert is also spelled the same and wondering, is there another S in there? And very often I'm opening another browser to check the spelling.

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There is something completely magical about the desert. It wasn't always this way for me. Palm Springs was a spring break destination when I was a kid, 18 friends piled into a cheap motel, we'd walk/drive up and down the main street to see who we could see, (read: where are the boys). 

Fun at first, and then the sunburnt skin, sleeping on the scratchy carpet in a room with shit air-conditioning and too many people isn't and you vow you won't go back again, which I didn't, until I was an adult.

Now...I can't even. I freaking love this desert, probably as much as I love desert. Three hours outside of Los Angeles and I'm here. Every time, I'm always questioning myself why I'm not here more, but you know, life gets in the way, (more like I get in the way of myself), and a year has passed since I've last been. 

This is my first time at The Ace Hotel, and friends, it is aces. I made our reservation months ago, scoring a room with an attached patio for a few bucks more, and it was/is worth every penny and then some. 

We spent the entire afternoon and evening here on the patio; back and forth to the pool, to the restaurant, walking the grounds. Did I mention their signature cocktail? 

And there's the photo booth.

We had big plans to shoot the desert and I packed too many cameras to prove it. Once we arrive our plans were improvised and we aren't leaving this place until we drive away Friday  morning. We both need a proper, relaxing, vacation and this is the place for that to happen.