If you haven't been here, Las Vegas is shaped roughly like an enormous chips-and-dip platter. The casinos (downtown and the strip) sit in one of the lowest parts of the valley, because that's where the water was, and there's a slow rise up to the mountains on each side. Our mountains don't have foothills; they just hump up out of the desert floor like a ridge on a hog's back. As I was driving to work (I drive west, and the road I take is north of the resort area and on top of a little rise), whenever there was a desert lot on my left hand side I could turn my head and see the city laid out all wanton and arresting below me, green and purple and red and gold, a sprawl of hotel towers and residential lights. Tom Petty was on the radio, singing one of my favorite songs in existence, and for once the air was cool and silky and smelled almost clean.
And hanging over it all, just a handspan above the mountains, close enough that it might be in danger of spearing itself on the Stratosphere tower if it drifted a little east--was a fat, bashful, wonderful moon as big as my fist, gold as a ripe peach and looking like she desperately wanted somebody to kiss her and was far too shy to ask.
And now the sun's peeking over the mountain, and another day in the oven begins. Still, it was sure pretty while it lasted.
In other news--from the "Department of Life Imitates Snark" (which is right next door to the Department of Redundancy Department, and also the Planning Depart-
US Officials call for UN observers in 2004 elections.
Of course, consider the source, and so forth.