I wasn’t expecting a gigantic playground of art I could climb or a hallucinogenic Dr. Suess movie, nor was I expecting A Mad Max movie, but it was all that and more in my desert experience. The first night of my arrival, Gage and Brooke took me to the Thunderdome, which was straight out of the movie “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” (1985). A huge geodesic dome, housing three-round fights between two people (both sexes) battling each other with huge soft bats. The gladiators were strapped into harnesses that swing from the ceiling, while assistants on the ground pushed the harness/swings with great force toward their opponents. The crowds climbed up the sides chanting, cheering and jeering. It reminded me of the boxing gloves I bought for my sons when they were preteens, so they could duke it out. What a spectacle!

My two daughters were in their element, even with me there. Dawn, as a teen, was funnier than any Saturday Night Live script when she was around her cousin Patrick. Her role as a business owner in the city of San Francisco and as a late-in-life Mom of two has been taken seriously, but letting loose is tough. I saw my playful fun-loving daughter one day, as she used my handicap flag to take the car deep into the Playa to view more art. We pulled up to a faux desert gas station and she decided to get out and pretend to pump gas. “You’re on the wrong side! Turn around and pull your tank to this side,” yelled some burner, who was getting a kick out of the car as part of the scene. He filled us up with pretend gad and we roared.

Brooke and I attended a “Stitch n’ Bitch” session in a camp near ours one afternoon. The camp had two sewing machines set up; a basket filled with ribbons, buttons, and doo-dads to decorate outfits and plenty of advice and help. Men and women were sitting on cushions cutting, sewing and embellishing shirts, hats, and outfits. Brooke had a long, beautiful taupe satin skirt, a sequined dress in a similar color and a beige crocheted sweater. In my past life, I would have set myself up at the sewing machine and whipped her creation into a new one, but my fractured wrist was in a brace. I contented myself with design details and she left with a bustled creation of adorable.

Her happy place is in the kitchen and she whipped up some great meals for anyone passing our camp. On the night before camp closed up, Brooke emptied her coolers of homemade soups, chili, hot dogs and Girl Scout cookies. Strangers were pulled in to enjoy “real food” and there were delightful conversations with burners of all ages from all over the world.

I found out where Dawn felt in her element on the day she and I biked out to the Playa to see more art. The wind was blowing, as we rode for miles. I was happy to have my goggles and scarf to cover my face, but never once thought to myself that I desired to be anywhere else. “Mom, this is my happy place—just riding my bike on the Playa to see the art, not talking to anyone.” (She was the impetus for our visit to both the sunrise and sunset, which were spectacular.) I loved the day and she snapped photos of me hugging a bee/wasp, which in real life I am deathly allergic.

Teri and I were like kids everywhere we wandered. She jumped on the front of the art car seat and switched the toggle switch and found out that Jim’s seat vibrated. We laughed at the clothes we brought that would have transformed us into creatures of fantasy, but never wore them. (The tutus did make nice decor hanging from our shiftpod.) We tried not to stare but cracked up at the nude marathon runners racing around the Esplanade with all parts bouncing. We loved the middle of the road spritzers that sprayed us as we biked by and the visits to the ice tent to retrieve ice, so we could hug on bags of cold ice.

I will forever be grateful to my wonderful daughters and husbands. They encouraged me, made it possible to be there, and enjoyed my childlike glee as I enjoyed my first “burn” and I enjoyed seeing them in their element outside their normal lives.