My air conditioner is still blasting, but the weather is much more tolerable than usual. School is back, the snowbirds will soon be arriving, and "season" is starting.

This summer has been absolutely turmultuous. I'll save the details but if you want to hear it all, you will have to take me out to drink. I need life to be busy again with so much to do and so little time and soon, I will be celebrating my first year of surviving the desert. Well, barely, but I survived right? Right.

All the big festivities begin. Indio International Tamale Festival. Riverside County Fair and National Date Festival. The Palm Springs International Film Festival. White Party. Yes, and if Mr. Right has not shown up, I will be going to White Party. Yes, they will all be detrimental to my wallet, but other situations have been much worse.

The other thing is softball season begins again. So, my Sundays are thankfully full of things to do again. And by things, that involves chasing balls and throwing them and hitting them. And then, chasing a different kind of balls at social events following said softball games.

Ah yes, the desert is becoming busy again and I am definitely loving it. Of course, I am also much more broke than I usually am, but it isn't so bad. Just look at the mountains and the palm trees and much more chilly weather. Horray.

Oh, yes, and the new car is here. He has given me other reasons to horray. So, horray!

This was the photo of Lance shortly after I first got him from a crooked car dealer in Indianapolis before I started my big adventure into the big and scary real world.

Many of those who have seen my Facebook profile know that Lance no longer looks like how he does above. For those who are just catching up, I will have more details later.

The point is...Lance is gone. A "total loss" as my damage assessor says. My friends and family keep telling me that he is just a car. Well, I hope these words help you understand how sad I am over the loss of such an inanimate object.

Lance was my first car. The first car that I actually owned. On my own. Y'see, I went to a college called UC Davis which was bike friendly. And because of that, my parents didn't think that I needed a car, despite how much I begged and pleaded and tried to show them how much it would have improved my college experience.

Many of my friends and "friends" had cars. They grew up in families that allowed them to drive in high school and, so, they brought their cars to campus and off-campus after freshman year. And they would use those cars to drive to Sacramento. Much of the time without me.

One of the guys that I dated for a short time in college also made me feel bad that I didn't have a car no matter how many times I carried his books in my bike basket to his classes.

So, my big dream was that I would someday have a car. And for me, that car symbolized freedom. Freedom to travel where I pleased. Freedom to follow my dreams. Freedom to be the best person and journalist that I could be to the best of my abilities.

And that is what Lance meant to me.

I was wrapping up my final paid internship at The Indianapolis Star and was just hired to work for a small newspaper that believed in multi-platform journalism as much as I did. At that time, I was renting a car from Enterprise to drive me to and fro my internship because the original plan was for me to return to California and then to Asia.

By securing this job at The Oshkosh Northwestern, I was able to take control of my own life and change the direction that fate/my parents had once set for me.

My friend Amy Bartner, who secured her job at The Indianapolis Star, had gone with me car shopping. I could not bring my vehicle up to Wisconsin. So, we started going car shopping. We found a used car dealer. I didn't know what I really wanted. All that I knew that my dream car was going to be red, my favorite color. And that's when I met him - Lance, my Pontiac Sunfire.

And with everything that I had in Indianapolis, I drove within two days up north in Lance to start my new life in Wisconsin.

We went through so much together. He drove me from assignment to assignment. We braved through snow and sleet and the worst flood to ever hit Wisconsin in the longest time. He drove me back and forth from the homes of two boyfriends.

He drove me all across Wisconsin and Illinois as Jet Fox, sometimes in the middle of the night and at ungodly hours. But he did not complain at all. All he asked for was maintenance every three months.

Then, I got the gig at The Desert Sun and one of my biggest dreams came true - to drive Lance cross country across the United States. It would be my triumphant return to the Golden State after growing up and becoming a man with responsibilities.

That was the best time for Lance and me as we saw all that America had to offer from purple mountain majesties of Colorado to the amber waves of grain in Nebraska. I was truly living the American Dream and was thankful for it all, for all that my life has given me.

For a year, Lance continued to drive me from assignment to assignment. I had to deal with all of his tires. He took me and my friends out of Palm Springs and onto the beaches of Los Angeles and San Diego. I was so glad that I was able to bring such a symbol of my maturity and responsibility back with me to California.

But that all changed on Aug. 5, 2009 at 6:30 p.m. That was when I was driving in Lance to the Indio City Council meeting. I was traveling northbound on Jackson Street. A teenage girl in a new SUV was driving eastbound on Requa. She was in the middle of the lane. I thought I had the green light. I t-boned her car.

Her car survivied with a major dent, but Lance was much worst off. She was able to drive away with her car. Lance left the scene in a tow truck. I was completely devestated and still am.

Geico has been very kind to me and they are working on processing my claim so fast. Thank goodness no one was injured physically. They got me a rental car so that I could still do my job. My premium will go up and I am going to traffic school online, but it will take some time for the wounds to all heal. Okay, a lot of time.

Today, I visited Lance at the Collision Center off I-10. But, Lance is "a total loss." His front frame is completely wrecked. You can see his insides. The repair could cost at least $10,000. So, they have offered to pay off Lance and take him to a salvage yard.

Holding back tears, I worked with one of the Geico assistants to clean Lance out. All of my belongings fit in two boxes. But the memories of Lance will last a lifetime.

For now, I am going to use a rental car and I am working with my parents, who have now accepted the direction that my life has taken and are there for me no matter what, on a replacement for Lance. I know that it will not be a red car. 

I will announce those details very soon. But for now, Lance is gone and on Friday, I will take the certificate and Geico will issue me a check and Lance will be physically gone forever.

My only hope is that these words will be able to keep Lance and his memory alive.

His body may be recycled into scrap metal to help repair thousands of other cars all over the nation.

But I know his spirit will be soaring across the highways of America. He is smiling through the amber waves of grain in the Midwest, and feeling the sense of freedom that he gave me when he came into my life three years ago.

Good night, sweet prince.

Although disguised, Oshkosh was the main star of the movie "Public Enemies" to me. Sorry, Johnny. You're hot, but this blog is much more about Sawdust city.

I missed the premiere night of the movie for many reasons, but mostly involving Indio City Council. But yesterday, in my pinstriped vest and tie (in 100 degree weather), I stepped into the Palm Springs movie theater and saw the movie that brought back memories.

With the first bank robbery located in Oshkosh's First National Bank (yup, it's that fabulous scene where Johnny Depp leaps over the desk with his tommy gun), I screamed "That's where I paid rent!"

As I watched the movie, memories came back like the dark waves of trees that Johnny Depp had to run through during the entire movie. They were memories of my life as a Sawdust Boy.

I remembered walking through the set, days before the movie was going to film. I was wearing a full-blown three-piece suit with a hat and interviewing people for an article that I was writing for The Oshkosh Northwestern. Our city's main street had been transformed into North Dakota thanks to the magic of Universal Studios.

Vintage billboards lined up the tiny central park and covered up the historic sundial. I walked on cobblesetone roads made out of rubber that were especially rolled out for this scene. I saw the hippie-ish New Moon Cafe transformed into a 1920s restaurant called Skalsa and the "House of Heroes" comic book store become a men's clothing store. And the nearby record store The Exclusive Company was a Walgreens with a vintage neon blue Walgreens sign dangling out front.

I remember that article came out on the first edition of a very vintage looking Oshkosh Northwestern, one that is in a box somewhere in San Francisco. The paper is printed in the classic style of newspaper with a hundred articles fitting on one page in more than nine columns. It would be the day before I hopped on a plane to Palm Springs, Calif. and fate would start turning its wheels toward The Desert Sun. I delivered this article to Rick Green, my to-be executive editor on that fateful day.

I was not there for most of the filming because I was interviewing for a job in Palm Springs, Calif. but I did return in time for the last few days. I remembered crowds blocked by chainlink awning. The streets were closed to the public but people were walking around main street in awe. I remember the sound of gunshots during filming sounding like the clang of rocks hitting pans. My Sawdust City had become Hollywood.

And, yes, I remember Johnny Depp in his bright orange jacket and blue shirt taking the time to shake everyone's hand...right outside my studio apartmenet building! He smiled and thanked everyone, including myself, for coming, as the cameras flashed and people pulled out their cell phone cameras. Of course, this lady has much more intimate memories of that experience.

When I saw it on the screen, I remembered it all. The Oshkosh Library with its two lions. The Masonic Temple that was always empty and had magically become another bank where Depp dragged out two hostages from a bank robbery onto the rubber cobblestone. A quick glimpse of Main Street Oshkosh as Johnny drove in the getaway car with a smile on his face. And of course, the First National Bank building where I paid my $350 in rent every single month.

But other memories also came back. The snow. That little studio with the heater I could not control. The Mr. Wisconsin competition. The old-fashioneds. Fish Fry Fridays. Christopher Allen's Club 1226. My two bofyriends. The two years that I had in Oshkosh and the stories of my own personal life that I have woven in. The streets that I have walked on, now eternally emblazoned on film so that the whole world can see that my small town America was once the center of the universe.

Mark my words, the Universal Studio employees did their job, but I could still see beyond the magic to the Oshkosh, Wisc. that I spent two important years of my life at in a small town newspaper and a small-town life that allows me to enjoy and value the life that I have now in Palm Springs.

As I prepare to go to work on Fourth of July for The Desert Sun, I quietly thank the Oshkosh Northwestern for everything. It never was destined to be my "anchor newspaper" but I was lucky to have experienced such an important moment in Oshkosh's history and to have been able to be part of the telling of its story.

Goodbye blackbird, goodbye.

And if Public Enemies does get an Oscar nomination this year, which I really hope it does, may the Sawdust City celebrate the success of being a historical Hollywood location. And I hope that when I do return to the state later this year, the city will have been transformed by this experience.

Oh, and so this blog enetry isn't entirely heavy, guys with pin-striped three piece suits are H-O-T. Why don't we dress like that anymore?