Stars come out at night unless they don't

This weekend was spent at a wedding in Joshua Tree, which has become the ad industry destination of the moment, at least among the ad industry people in Southern California. So much so, that the ranch where my friend got married is owned by former ad people.

While the wedding was a few minutes’ drive from Pioneertown, we stayed in Yucca Valley which is still shabby and somewhat forgotten, much like the hotel I nicknamed the Sequestered Destination. It seemed like the type of place they'd house jurors during the Crime Of The Century. No newspapers. No TV. Chinese food eating from carboard containers. Or if you're feeling domestic, the mini-kitchen complete with two electric burners and fridge.

And if the bed's mattress was too firm and the pillows too deflated at least there were no bedbugs.

The wedding itself was lovely. It was great to catch up with colleagues, some I haven't seen in more than a decade.  It was also fun meeting new people and eavesdropping on a slice of someone else's life. Parents giving misty-eyed and tipsy speeches, kids in little suits and dresses. Random family members who seem like black sheep.

The weather was unseasonably cool. Great for daylight, not so much for when the sun dropped and the clouds covered the moon and stars. Wish I would have brought a jacket

I don't get the appeal of the desert. I like the desolate nature but not the heat; my skin becomes a science experiment gone awry out there. Beet red despite not being in the sun, cheeks like sandpaper.

In the morning, rainbows were everywhere.