Valley of the Antelope

We were gone this weekend. Joe's cousin got married in the high desert town that he and Joe grew up in. The last time I reported on Lancaster was full of huge grey skies and an equally grey sprawl of 99-cent stores and abandoned shopping plazas. But that was winter; now it's the autumn of another year, and Lancaster is bathed in bright sunlight holdign over from summer. The sun made a lot of difference.

There's still not much to do there. Joe and I skipped out on church, instead visiting a handful of thrift stores. Lancaster, I decided, has the best thrift stores I've seen in California. If you're lucky, you can make out very well. Last visit yielded no goods, but this time I scored a stretch denim blazer and skirt, a short-sleeved western shirt, a sequined top made by Avon in the early 80s, a book about country music published in the 70s, and a top sheet and pillowcase with a pattern similar to the sheets I had on my bed when I was growing up. All of that stuff is clean now, and the sheet is on our bed.

The wedding was sweet. Very Lancaster. It was nice to attend a wedding and not have to be in it.