This was uttered by The Better Half while we were staying at the Enchantment Resort in Sedona, AZ. He was there on business; the girls and I tagged along just to stare at the red rocks and notice how incredibly large the ants are in that part of America. The son-and-heir could not join us; he was busy with Freshman Negligence 101 (also known as summer school).
The rocks did not disappoint! And I say this knowing I left my expensive anti-wrinkle cream back at the Enchantment; I hope a nice woman appreciates getting her skin cells rejuvenated. Our favorite things were: the blood hound tied to a skinny rope out side a shop named What You Want, the Mexican import store where the proprietor made me a coffee (pretty sure she thought I would spend more money), the Jamaican porter who was going to see his kids in two weeks, and the shower in the room. But you’d have to live with us to understand that one: our shower is like a someone is spitting on you from very high up; not much water pressure and kind of lukewarm.
Back to Sedona. It is magical. It is impossibly beautiful. The rocks change with the light, the soft night air turns even the most anxious human into a wise owl. The heat, while relentless and intense, is great on the joints and conducive to tasty, sprawled-out naps. And while I consider myself fairly shallow, even I could feel the healing quality of those red mountains and their ancient power.
I was not inspired to read any new age literature, however. The drive from Phoenix, desolate, desperate-looking and dry, dry, dry, reminded me of the Jack Reacher novels by Lee Child, which make for some entertaining summer reading, in a 7-11 Big Gulp sort of way. Once in Sedona I stuck with the moody and noble Venetian, Guido Brunetti, in the newest Donna Leon mystery. I think he would appreciate the red rock spirit.