Bryan and I spent our fourth wedding anniversary in Palm Springs. He booked us a room with a patio at the Ace Hotel, which is built on the foundations of an old Howard Johnson and features what I’d call utilitarian chic. It was a little outside of downtown, but that turned out to be a blessing since downtown was swarming with bikers and the snarl of Harleys was hard to take. We were plenty happy hanging around the hotel, going to the spa, eating at the King’s Highway restaurant, listening to the record player in our room. (The Apollonia LP was random, but I actually really liked the Mongo Santamaria.) It was around 90 degrees, so we lounged as much as we could by the pool. That was quite a scene, with a drunken guys playing a drinking game with a plastic pink flamingo. But once those guys left, we could watch the light change on the San Jacinto Mountains in peace. On the drive home, rain fell thickly. I picked up dinner at Pita Pita in shorts and a t-shirt. Everyone else was wearing a jacket and sweatpants. It was then I realized that summer was really over.