Chrisonomicon

Wednesday, November 27, 2002

The yucca plants in the Nevada desert grow tall and thick, bow under their own weight in a hasty attempt to reach the sun. They grow like trees, whereas here in Colorado they sprout small and stay small. We used to collect yucca pods on the walk to school when I was a kid. If you pick them at the right time — right after they've ripened and begun to dry — you've got a pretty nifty maraca. Pick them after they've dried and split and classmates beware! A good shake and you're showered with a spray of black seeds.

M and I drove through the desert, through the mountains, cross-country to "the fertile valleys" of Las Vegas, seduced by the warm lights, warm air, and warm possibilities of much, much more than real life — a skin of glitz and glamour that floats atop the pea soup of vice and desperation. More than that, however, we wanted to spend time together. Tim was kind enough to meet us on the strip to show us a few of the more touristy things, the white tigers at the Mirage, the Venetian, the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace. We gambled at the dollar tables at the Sahara and lost our money at craps on Fremont Street. As Tim quoted, the house always wins. We had a great time, nevertheless.