We went to a casino this evening. Specifically, the Desert Diamond Casino on I-19. Took us about a half an hour to get there, and along the way we drove through part of an Indian reservation. And here's something to make you scratch your head... right before we got to the reservation and all the time we were in it, the highway signs were in kilometers instead of miles. The speed limit signs were still in good old American miles per hour (because American drivers would kill themselves driving 120 MPH instead of KPH.) (That's 75 to you and me.) The distances between exits were in those damnable base ten kilometers. I like my units of measurement to be cumbersome and involve irrational comparisons, dammit!
Anyway, the casino was OK. Nothing huge, but it served its purpose. Painfully easy to get there. It used to take me less time to get home from school when I was a kid. (And not because of anything interesting, either. Plain old travel time.) (Uphill, both ways, in the snow. With locusts and brimstone and stuff.) Ooh! And Rick Springfield will be there this weekend! Deb won't go back, though. We each have snazzy new casino cards too. With our pictures on them, which is a first. I wonder if it'll serve as photo ID...
We also took some pics of the grounds of the apartment complex. Because it's so darn cool!
One more thing... while moving and sorting and organizing stuff today, one of the items I moved was the plastic container that holds Deb's mom's ashes. Ideas coalesced in my brain because of it, and this is the result. I normally don't share my poems, but I'll make an exception with this one.