I've missed a couple weeks - but with good reason. We were having a hot time in the old town. The old town was in another Washington County, but not my Washington County. The temperature there rose quickly to 106 degrees and stuck there like the needle of the fuel gauge on the old Dodge Dart. Pardon me while I digress. After some driving, the needle on that fuel gauge would drop from full, or from whatever level I had filled it in the usual manner until it reached a quarter tank. It would remain at a quarter tank as long as I kept driving. I knew that the next time I drove it, I could go anywhere, but then I would have to gas up after the trip. I could go anywhere on a quarter tank: One trip to school and back, a trip to Caldwell and back, wherever. It didn't matter how far I went. The needle would stay at a quarter tank until I returned, at which point it would measure empty--there was no in between, no 1/8th of a tank, no almost empty. It went from a quarter tank straight to empty. The car would go anywhere within the realm of my travels, near or far, on a quarter tank.

Back to my point -- it was hot. It was hot every day until the day of our return. Then it rained. The temperature over the pavement was 111 degrees, according to the information provided by my car. 

We walked all over the college campus and made multiple trips to mega mart as well as Smith's. I hadn't been in a Smith's for years, as they had all pulled out of Idaho well before the turn of the century. The motel represented that it had breakfast for us. It did not. Stale madeleines in plastic wrappers and old, brown bananas do not a breakfast make. 

We did find some good places to eat. A place called Capeletti's Restaurant turned us away one night. By which I mean that we hadn't made a reservation and there was a 25 minute wait--and I know that 25 minutes really means at least 40 minutes. So we made a reservation for the following night. I recommend the Caprese Bruschetta. The bone-in pork chop came with real mashed potatoes, delicious squash, onions, and some other sauteed vegetable that I can't recall. The chop itself filled most of the plate and slanted like Vasquez Rocks from atop the mound of mashed potatoes to the edge of the plate. I would certainly have it again.

If you prefer your meat ground and nestled within a bun among tasty sauce and toppings, I direct you to Morty's Cafe. Morty's specialized in hamburgers. Wife and daughter had the Iconic burger. I had the Hawaiian burger. Certainly among the best burgers I've ever had. Juicy and delicious. I would like to go there again.

In addition to eating and going from campus to stores and back again, we enjoyed the park on the bluff overlooking the town. The pictures above are from the Narrows and the picture below is the Arch.

The Arch is small. It's a very short hike up to the right and above the Narrows. The journey to the Narrows is more of a short walk, and the rock formation squeezes together such that it would be difficult for even a starving child to make the full passage through and up the stairway of broken rock.

We visited Brigham Young's winter home and took the 25 minute tour. Our guide was a gentleman from Rigby, Idaho who had moved south to retire.

Perhaps the best part of the stay was the trip to the visitor's center. The temple renovation won't be complete until next year. We met a wonderful sister missionary from Rigby, Idaho who has only been out for a month. She explained the role of the cannon in building the temple and how the lightning strike on the anniversary of Brigham Young's death resulted in the change he had directed for the temple's cupola. She also directed us to some touching videos about some missionaries who had been featured on the show The District. That proved to be a great way to cap our visit to the domain of saints, students, and sunshine.

I also completed a re-read of Warlord of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs. I should do a full review on it later.

Are there Christmas songs you hate? -- My answer is at the end.

There are a lot of Christmas songs. Most of them are great. Nevertheless, many are the opposite of great. Most Christmas songs are eggnog and cookies, candy canes and Christmas trees, angels and hallelujas. Others are gray, gritty snow and cold sores; frozen pipes and an ice-ball in the face. I just watched Christmas with the Tabernacle Choir featuring Kristin Chenoweth. It was very nice. I could have listened for another hour. I also heard some great music at the service this morning. I remember other music I had heard in previous weeks. Some of the choirs, small groups, and solos I've heard have not been so great. I suppose that mix of talent and quality of performance is a good metaphor for life. Our efforts are sometimes excellent; at other times they don't live up to our hopes. I have to admire those who perform and fall short of excellence. They are out trying. Maybe they'll get better with time and experience. Some will never get better; they'll never reach excellence, yet they continue to strive. (I hope they're striving, and not merely showing up for performances to inflict pain on my eardrums). They're the souls in the arena.

In my own arena, I continue to write, churning out books that few will ever read. Maybe they will make a difference for someone who does read them. If someone smiles, laughs, catches of vision of the world in one of my stories that lets them escape the daily grind for a time and forget their troubles, think about some deeper meaning, or simply enjoy a story, I'll count that as a success. However, as satisfying as that is, I would not resist a boatload of royalty payments sailing my way. Unfortunately, if no one reads and thinks to leave a review, I'll never know how much they enjoyed my work--and that boatload of royalty payments will never dock in my bank account.

***

One reason I didn't get much writing done this week was because of daughters. It was a 3 daughter week. I had to go visit a couple of my daughters and sons-in-law for a few days and couldn't do any writing. It was a small price to pay for the trip. One daughter and son-in-law graduated from college and set sail for Arkansas the very next day. They've arrived in that land of opportunity. They're worried that they won't fit in because they're not cousins. (My sincerest apologies to the people of Arkansas for that joke. It was uncalled for and cannot even redeemed by being original. It's an old joke. I would like to promise that I won't make such jokes in the future--but I know myself too well for that). While one daughter and son-in-law were graduating and embarking for the wonder state, another daughter and son-in-law continued the struggle, looking forward to the day when they too can don the black moo-moo and mortar board hat, and step up to the launchpad and rocket to a new place with promising careers. The other daughter involved came with us. She got to spend quality time (which is code for shopping and playing games) with the sister with whom she shared a room and everything else for so many years. Now she's alone at home with grumpy, old mature parents who possess all the excitement of a discarded work boot--or so it seems from her perspective. What that really means is that she benefits from parents who have already successfully raised several other children to adulthood. What incredible wisdom, knowledge, and experience they must possess! Could she possibly be any luckier? I'm sure her answer would vary from mine.

We had a great time with all three daughters and both sons-in-law. The latter are fine gentlemen who are great matches for the two daughters. While the last daughter is only 16, she did have an unexpected encounter with a male individual during the trip. The graduation ceremonies concluded so late that most of the restaurants in town were closed. That left fast food as our only option. We adjourned to a Swedish diner famous for the image of the red-haired girl with the swooping braids. At one point, a young man of college age stopped at our table and asked if we were here for the graduation. Then he looked at the 16 year-old and said, "You're the cutest girl I've seen. I've been all over campus and never seen a girl as cute as you." --or words pretty close to that. My daughter responded, as did we all, with awkward silence. He likewise replied with a witty, mute, awkward repartee before hurrying out the door. At least that daughter gained an interesting story from the trip.

For the record, I killed at Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. I was much better at those than at the shopping activities. The bonus was the 28 mm cowboy figures one son-in-law printed on his 3d printer for me. Naturally, there's a lot more to tell, but I'm amazed anyone has read this far, so I won't add anything else about the trip. I won't go on about the songs we listened to on the way home and the memories they brought to the surface, or the minor car issue, or the premature departure and the call back, or the moving movie we watched, or the old friends encountered, or the... There's too much to include here, other than that it was great.

***

As for my answer to the Christmas songs I hate. Yes, I do have some, but it's simply not in my nature to dwell on the negative. (Maybe someday I'll be able to make that statement and believe it to be true. For now, I'm still working on that attitude). I would still love to here your responses.

We arrived here on Monday and began the nine and one half mile hike through rugged country in the middle of the day--during the hottest week of the year. 

Part of the view from the first summit. The smoke from the nearby fires wasn't too bad that first day.

It was somewhere near here that we met two diminutive lads who mentioned something about being on their way to return a piece of jewelry that had been giving them problems.

I haven't succeeded yet in downloading the remaining pictures. The story of the death march and the successful plotting of a new book will wait until I can get the other photos--the much better ones-- included.
***

I did get back in time to attend a daughter's wedding. There are days that shine like the brightest stars in the firmament. Yesterday was one of those days. To see one's children gathered in an important place, doing the right things for the right reasons is a premium parental pay-day. I couldn't help but look upon them and say, "I guess we didn't totally mess up. We may have even done a thing or two correctly." Of course, the self-congratulations may be hollow. Probably, the material we had to work with had an innate resilience; the other influences, especially that of my wife, overcame most of my mistakes in the life lessons and personal responsibility department.

The wedding was a wonderful and simple affair followed by an excellent luncheon put together by the groom's family. Fantastic souls turned out to setup for the reception at our home in the evening.

The canvas of this daughter's life is painted in laughter. I'm sure that pattern will continue. Tears and sweat mark the canvas in vivid colors as well, but the dominant theme has been that of fun and good-spirits. She has matured much in the last two years. As she pushes away from the secure shores of youth to set out upon the windswept waters of adult responsibility, there is an air of expectation, an aspiration for life on a higher plane united with another heart. The waves will roll, the storms may rage, but their quiet confidence in each other and in the principles that have brought them together will guide them through the difficulties of life. Of course, it may not be the rolling thunder, banks of fog, or tumultuous waves that present the greatest difficulties. The doldrums of life where supports seem absent and progress stalls often try the soul as severely as any storm. Tenacious perseverance and steadfast determination in the face of the seemingly empty void, like the long, slow trudge across the desert expanse, may build more character and unity than does the fierce melee against the contrary elements. May they live long and prosper in love, laughter, and learning of each other and the many subtle secrets of success.

They do as we did...

Daughters are strange and magical creatures. Absolutely nothing is more adorable than a baby girl. Whether she’s laughing, or staring questioningly from beneath the bowl of oatmeal that she has just poured over her head, she’s a tender, fragile, and lovable manifestation of the goodness in humanity. Unfortunately, she soon embarks upon a steady course to gradually, almost imperceptibly, shed all that is sweet and lovable.

At thirteen, the slow process is rushed to completion; the slow melt becomes a deluge. Almost all that is sweet and lovable is swept away. A cold, barren, bitter blade covered with thistle, shrouded in a cactus, and wrapped in barbed wire remains. Fortunately, this state is only temporary. Once again, slowly, imperceptibly, sweetness, with an alloy of maturity, begins to accrue. 

By the time she reaches sixteen, she shows definite human characteristics…many of which are good. She retains the light, doe-like grace of her early teens, adding to it the beauty of a young woman. She is… usually…a joy to be around. Young men have noticed her; they’ve been noticing her for a while. She has noticed their noticing, and she has been cultivating that fertile field; she has been dabbling in the dark arts of maquillage, and has pressed into her service potions of potent perfumes both penetrating and pervasive.  

She advances in years, knowledge, talents, beauty, and charm. Eventually, she finds a young man who has spent a number of years doing his best to become human. He finds her irresistible; she reciprocates, seeing in him evidence of what she hopes he may yet become. He sees in her all that he could ever want, hoping that she will never change.

They don’t know what lies ahead. They don’t comprehend what trials loom before them. They don’t see the obstacles that will cross their path. They cannot conceive of the heartaches that they may face. But they know that their parents before them didn’t understand these things either. As parents, we don’t know what the future holds for them any more than we knew what it held for us when we were young and in love. We did, as they do, pledge ourselves for today, tomorrow, and forever. We did, as they do, hope for the best, and struggle to maintain the hopes, and the dreams for the good and meaningful life, to see our children do, and be…better than ourselves.