The Land of Milk and Honey and Ice.

I went home this month. I went to where my first memories were spawned. I lived for a good deal of my childhood in this cold place. I also spent many a summer there, until adulthood. I caught some fantastic fish in the Snake and baskets full of suckers out of the Teton. Those summers were great days– summer crushes on much older college students (don’t ask, I’ll never tell), building rockets, way too many chores, eccentric college students, motorcycle rides, never ending MTV (especially Headbangers Ball), fights with the “locals,” library reading programs, movies at both old theaters, getting caught stealing at Food Center, building motorcycles, swimming nearly every day, the city water slide (a lame sprinkler park?), homemade Ninja weapons with my crazy Rexburg brothers, fights with my crazy Rexburg brothers, going to work with Dad (how’d you pull that off?); I could go on and on. The Rexburg area has been good to me. I went there after my flop of a mission and healed my troubled soul a bit. I miss this place more than any other.

So, my family and I went home for Thanksgiving. A good time was had by all. It was good to see some of the local landmarks that are tied to my heart. It was even gooder to see everyone.

This is the Teton, it meanders through my Grandmother's property, I was so sure that I would find a super-secret trout hole there. I still cling to this delusion, even after hordes and hordes of suckers and whitefish.

I used to dream of restoring this old stinker. Maybe someday, most likely not. OK, not ever.

My favorite memory of this trip. Going to the Izcalli. By an odd coincidence, Rexburgers who I have never met, read this on occasion. You must go here, it is delicious.

The kids had Wendy's disgustorama instead of Izcalli's and stayed in the Trooper, they preferred this because of the toys in their Kids Meal.

I especially enjoyed the great view of my old friends, the Teton peaks, as I drove to St. Anthony to meet an underworld character who I will post about later. I did not get a picture and I regret it. Those stunning mountains have enamored me since I was just a wee lad.

Here's to cousins.

I am not ashamed II

In a much earlier post I listed my favorite guitar solos. It was a fun post because everyone commented on their favorite guitar work. If you recall, I thought that the best rock solo was by Vernon Reed of Living Color in the song “Cult of Personality.” It is the kind of guitar work that one either loves or hates. The video above is a live version of that song done on The Arsenio Hall Show a very, very, long time ago. It is a raw version of the song, and the solo, while not completely dissimilar to the recorded version, is not the same. I like the this version of the song as well as the recorded solo because it is very jazzy and betrays Reed’s jazz roots. I’m not sure people who don’t play guitar will appreciate it. Enjoy.

Weekend Report

This last weekend was interesting. The Goddess and I got out on the town without the stinkers. I believe that this is the second time since our first child was born (10 years ago) that we have been on an overnight date. We didn’t do anything super exciting. Some good friends came along to keep us company. It was an evening of fine conversation and exquisite food.

We enjoyed the grub at Tucanos, a posh Brazilian meat house in the river bottoms of Provo. It is in a strip mall area that is awash with falseness. The kind of place that you could cruise for stupid rich girls when you were a teenager. The kind of place that gives meaning to the lives of the insecure. It is where someone goes that doesn’t know how to live. And I was there eating meat. And it tasted like Prometheus was in the kitchen. Delectable.

We stayed at the Days Inn and the next morning went shopping at some of the Goddess’ usual haunts. This time we ate at The Gallo Giro in Provo. This place is the real deal. If you are ever in Provo, you need to eat there.

Soon thereafter, we went to Grandma’s and got our kids, whom we missed. Sunday morning was Stake Conference (or better known as No Church Day). Some folks get all worked up about missing Stake Conference. I don’t consider being stuck in a hot building with 1000 other people, taking kids to the bathroom, taking cranky toddlers into an overcrowded waiting room, and barely hearing the message for two hours, a spiritual experience. It is an exercise for a zealot and I leave angry. My attitude is likely to change as my stinkers get older. Don’t worry, I am not doomed to apostasy; just good old pragmatism (the enemy of zealots everywhere).

All in all it was a nice weekend.