Somehow I convinced my grandfather, who hates to get dirty, to go to The International Date Festival in Indio, California. I’m not trying to say the date festival actually is dirty – just that anything that takes place outdoors (except golf ) makes my grandfather feel the need to wash his hands with an unusual measure of frequency.
There is also an eclectic diversity at the Indio festival. It’s in a part of town where you can get the World’s Best tamale (check back tomorrow with Iphonetos from that excursion) or perhaps a threatening glare slash gun wound (at least according to some).
I felt nothing but comfortable and the festivities are a kick in the pants! Camel races, piglets, more food than you can imagine (or eat!). And it’s sharing the news about the Date Festival that I randomly learned a fascinating tale about my mother-in-law.
When my mother-in-law got engaged, he father (fondly know as “Fufu”) was frequently working as a architect in Saudi Arabia. His very good friend and client, at the announcement of her engagement, promptly delivered a beautiful and prime racing camel which Fufu traded-in for a chic rug. I had to sit and pensively imagine what it might have been like to received such an engagement gift, had it traded on a whim, and have missed out on the adventure of owning such an exotic creature.