Indio, California: Hard to believe we have only spent three nights in Indio, yet we are pretty-much settled in and right back to our routine: coffee, exercise, work, eat sleep. Rinse and Repeat. I suppose our routine is very similar to your routine, we just do it in this Paradise:
I went to the grocer Saturday morning. By the time I returned, DT had unpacked the four boxes of dishes, pots, pans, etc., and had everything back in the cupboards and drawers of our outdoor kitchen. (We snapped photos of the cupboards before we packed everything up for the summer, as reference. It sure made the chore easy. And it was super easy for me because DT did it all.)
Stupid palm tree ruining very cool photo of a heron taking flight
The bird life along the canal is extraordinary. Already this year we have seen a Night Heron, a Blue Heron, a crane and an owl. Yesterday a bunny hopped through our campsite.
And by campsite, I mean:
The most difficult job was hooking up the satellite receiver box and get it working again. All the cables had been tagged, so we knew it was wired correctly, but then we had to put in a code so all our boxes could talk to each other. Goodness. We need to either improve our memory, or take better notes. Don’t worry, DT was able to watch the Ducks beat up on the Trojans Saturday afternoon… and several other games over the weekend.
Many of our friends have already returned, which makes walking/jogging around this resort difficult – too much chatting and catching-up after a summer away. But, again, we have this view as a backdrop as we circle the resort:
You knew it wouldn’t take us long to get ourselves over to Tacos Gonzalez (corner of Highway 111 & Jefferson) for our favorite taco. Still only $1.79.
But I’m not a cheap date. I can take down two of these babies.
And that chicken taco wasn’t the only bird consumed this weekend. I’ve been working on a Buffalo Chicken Meatball recipe, which I will include in the next newsletter (early December). These morsels will be welcomed the next time you have the posse over to catch the Big Game.
It’s like Buffalo Chicken Wings without all the mess. Actually, without any mess at all.
Until my next update, I remain, your basking correspondent.
RV PARK: The Motorcoach Country Club