Onion Creek

I spent New Year's Eve in Moab, working at the local charter school and hiking a local canyon. This post will not be about the filing at the charter school, though it was some great filing, if I do say so myself.

I hiked along Onion Creek to the Fisher Towers, about 20 miles west of Moab and just south of Arches National Park.  This hike isn't as fun as Negro Bill Canyon, but it's good in its own way.

The scenery is great.  Moab is known for its peculiar rock formations, and this canyon has many.

Behind this one, I heard someone say, "I can smell you."  I thought at first the rock was a person, but nope, it was just a curious rock formation, and out from behind it came a talking dog.  "No time for you," I said.  "I'm looking for wonders of nature."

The camera on my BlackBerry doesn't do these justice.

Also along the way I saw this house. The talking dog ran into it.

How did they ever get a zoning permit to allow this in the canyon?  I don't know.  It was up by some waterfall.  Probably some greedy one-percenter bribed the corrupt BLM bureaucrats and got his bread buttered.  He probably works at a bank! OCCUPY MOAB!


The canyon floor is criss-crossed several times by Onion Creek.  The trail isn't actually a trail, but a dirt road that's used, judging by the tire tracks, by off-road vehicles.  I didn't see any, but that could be because it was New Year's Eve.  Perhaps that's not the prime day to be ORV-ing a canyon in the middle of nowhere.  I did get passed by a Jeep, whose driver asked if I was "walking for my health."  Yeah, you might want to try it, Tubby.

The creek was a real adventure.  It was frozen in spots, but running underneath the frozen edges and the sometimes frozen top layer.  Every time I'd come to a creek crossing, I'd have to figure some way across by stepping on rocks, walking upstream a ways to find a narrow section in could jump, or try to walk across the frozen parts without slipping or falling through.

I totally walked across this without slipping!

Once when I was on some very slippery ice, I inched to the edge to see if I could get a decent enough grip to make the small leap to solid ice on the other side without slipping.  I was just in running shoes--I should have brought my cleats.  I don't own cleats.  I should buy some cleats.  I was inching across very slowly when the ice said, all snarkily, "Walk more for your health, Tubby," and broke.  Into the creek I went.

That's when I swore.

But I soldiered on.  I had a rented car.  Who cares about red mud on the floor mats?

The dirt road is very long and I didn't walk the whole thing.  But I walked quite a ways.  Every time I got thinking it might be time to head back, I'd see a curve up ahead and decide that I could make it that far.  That happened three or four times when I came around one such curve and saw this mountain.

It was there.

I saw an opening that could work like stairs up this thing so I started ascending.  The stairs I hoped were there weren't, just rocks that broke pretty easily and weren't buried in the dirt like they looked.  Plus, I'm kinda scared of heights.  About halfway up I was thinking that this is about far enough and how will I get down.  Then, no kidding, at that moment the next song that came on my ipod shuffle list was "Climb the Mountain of Faith" from the Oakland Temple Pageant.  That song goes, "Climb the mountain! Climb the mountain! Walk paths with respect. Climb the Mountain!"

"Okay, Lord," says I and fake it up some more stairs.  After a few minutes I came to this:

No matter how much faith I have, there's just no freaking way.

Just then the song ended, so it worked out.

Down the mountain was harder than up it.  Not least because the rocks, as I mentioned, aren't nearly as sturdy and strong as they appear.

Sometimes I'd step on a good, solid-looking rock, just o have it break apart and send me sliding down a foot or so. But I had a rental car, so who cares?

On the way back, having learned that moving slowly on semi-frozen creeks leads to falling in, I just dashed across and made my leaps with caution to the wind.  (It was a lot windier on the way back.)  That's no problem for me, because like my old pal Cliff Denney used to say, I can jump like a freaking deer.

Adventures of Tintin

I expected this movie to be good.  It was really good.

First you should know, I love movies about 12-year-old boys, if I can say that without sounding like one of you perverts.  I love Sandlot, Super 8, Little Big League, Holes, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and almost every other movie whose hero is a 12-year-old boy.  I was a 12-year-old boy once, you see.

Tin-tin looks like 14 in the movie, though he acts much older, and owns a gun, and has a job as a reporter, and lives alone, or without parents, at any rate--he does have a dog.  That's really the movie's weakness--you don't know or learn much about Tintin as a character.  He starts out as a young Indiana Jones, but without the fun quirks.  And he ends up that way, too.  We don't know how he got there, or why someone obviously so young does what he does.

But don't let that stop you.  The movie is quite a ride, with great action sequences that remind you of the afore mentioned Dr. Jones.  None better than the chase through the city following a bird with important sheets of paper.  Sometimes great action gets discounted if its animated, but it's no less animated here than the action in most heave f/x movies.

And the movie wastes no time on expository dialogue, which I hate.  (It was the real weakness of Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol.)  That may be why we know nothing about Tin-Tin the character, but not wasting time on back story has its advantages, too.

Christmas with kids

I haven't had Christmas with a non-teenager since 1997, when my sister-in-law was 12.  This year i got to watch my neices, ages 10 and 8, open their Christmas presents, and it reminds you how great Christmas can be.

Every present was just a new thing to be over the moon about.  A pillow pet?  A CD? A doll? A pack of gum?  Everything was awesome, and under $20!  The hit of the day was the hamster, which was also under $20, though with the cage and everything was a bit more.

I wish I had video, but that probably wouldn't be safe online with all you perverts, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

Christmas music videos part 3

The best version ever of this song.

Need a little Christmas

Here is this year's Christmas Card and message:

Never have I needed a little Christmas throughout the year like this year.

For those of you that I don’t speak to regularly or that don’t check my facebook wall enough, you may not have heard about my divorce. It’s awkward to write about that in a snappy letter that mixes in Christmas Carol references about the happiest time of the year. I’ve never grown sadder than during the months just before and after. I had built quite a life with Alli, and losing all that felt like a long fall, hitting and scraping every evergreen bough on the way down.

Six months on, I am more grateful for the birth, life, and sacrifice of the Savior than I have ever been. His Love has power to help us overcome any trial and heal any wound. Little Christmases have been around all year, like little angels sitting on my shoulder. Some of those angels are my brothers and sisters. Among those I also include those that are no longer technically in-laws. If they all were lights, they’d make the brightest string I’ve ever seen.

I did some traveling this year, too. Went back to the old homestead in Foster City, California for the most rejuvenating visit, leaving troubles behind in the blue lagoons that wind through the city. I added four new ballpark candles in my window, seeing games in Philadelphia, Washington, and two in New York. I also went to the ballpark in Tokyo, where the Yomiuri Giants play. Baseball crowds in Japan are completely different than in the States, with raucous singing ringing through the rafters when every batter comes up.

And I’ve started dating. I may be rushing things, but no time to deck those halls again like now. That’s led to some other firsts, including a first trip to the Symphony, and also the Cowboy Poetry Festival. What an adventure life is.

And what a friend Jesus is. Just when we need a little singing, a little laughter, a little Christmas, His Love is there, right this very minute. So, while I’ve grown a little older (no leaner, unfortunately) and the weather’s grown a little colder, I feel warm and hopeful, knowing that around a corner here is waiting a little happy ever after.

Mission: Impossible review

Except for all the talking, Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol is a great movie.



Under Brad Bird (The Incredibles, Ratatouille) direction, the action scenes are incredible. Impossible, too, but the whole movie is based on that, so who cares?  Who cares about dangling from the 134th floor of the world's tallest building swinging from a computer cable.  Who cares about head-on collisions and sprinting through sandstorms.  It's so much fun!

And nothing is funner than the chase and fight in a parking garage with shifting parking spaces--and another head-on collision.

But the talking and talking.  It's really too much.  And really boring.  Way too much explanation of what happened, what happened before that, and what's going to happen later, and why, and why Jeremy Renner is all mopey and scared.  I can't write fiction, good narratives, and certainly not screenplays, but I think it's cheap when we find out a character's feelings by him announcing, "This is how I'm feeling."

So, for all the action the movie is completely worth your ten bucks.  But on the other hand, during the sitting around and talking times, you can reflect on how much better Brad Bird's best action movie really is.  There's no wasted dialogue at all in The Incredibles.

Great Christmas music part 2

Great Christmas music videos, part 1

For the season, here is a great video to enjoy.  I'll have more fun and awesome songs celebrating the season each day.

 

Sherlock Holmes

I've never read a Sherlock Holmes book or story, but I've seen several movie versions.  I recommend Without a Clue, Young Sherlock Holmes, and the recent one that was a BBC series last year, which is now available to stream on Netflix.  I wouldn't recommend the Robert Downey, Jr. version of the movie from a few years back, but I just saw the sequel, and it's awesome.

And for all the Jason Bourne-ness that Sherlock takes on in the movie, the best part is the chess match, when you really see the mental game unfold in Sherlock's and Moriarty's heads.  And the best shot of the movie is Moriarty screaming--no sound, but a great visual.

Downey is fantastic, as he always is.  I normally think Guy Ritchie is a bit to affected as a director, but it didn't bother me here.  The story, pacing, and humor were all much better this time around.  And since it's the first movie since Moneyball that's worth seeing, you should go see it.

The Game of Things

I played a new game this weekend, called The Game of Things.  It was really fun, but I sucked at it.

It is kind of like Balderdash, but instead of writing down fake definitions to words, you write down what the card asks for ("Things that make me nervous.") and then try to guess who wrote what.

For "Things that make me scream" I wrote "That one part in Jurassic Park."  Well that's my problem, I'm a completely open book who likes to try and be funny.  So, everyone knew that I had written that one, and I was out of that round early.

There was a couple on a date.  The girl knew most of us, but the guy didn't, so he was at a real disadvantage.  The guy, Justin, came with Heather.  On "Things that make me nervous" somebody in the group wrote "kissing Heather."  It was a funny answer, but he blew it by cracking up as he wrote it.  We all laughed when he was writing, and then again when it was read out loud, because it was hilarious.  But he got out early that round.

I usually don't have much fun at games when I lose so badly, but this one was really fun, and I think I might buy it for myself for Christmas.

Lion King sucked

I saw The Lion King on stage in Las Vegas on Saturday, and except for the costumes and stage, it could have been done by a high school for Math, Science, and Engineering students.  So sad.  This was the Tony-Award winner.

First off, the sound was awful.  You could hardly hear.  If I didn't already have most of the dialogue memorized from watching the movie so many times, I wouldn't have been able to tell what was going on.  All the emotion (if there was any from the actors) was lost because it was so hard to hear and follow.

And the additions to the play that aren't in the musical are laughable and actually detract from the story.  There's the Scar-and-Nala (call them Nar) forced romance angle, that doesn't extend beyond a single scene and just disappears from the story after one song about it.  And Simba's should-have-been-show-stopping-number plays like he's a completely different character than the one in the scenes just before and after.  And the big note at the end wasn't held out for any effect at all.

And the choreography was the (unintentionally) funniest part.  The director would send out some costumed animal running and leaping, and occasionally twirling across the stage during scene changes.  During numbers that exist specifically to show off the dancers, all they do is twirl and jump.  I had just come from seeing actual choreography, like this:

That was taken on my way into the Holiday Dance competition held at Luxor over the weekend.  My nephew, Malachi and his partner took second in their Latin group.  Here's about twenty seconds of them, shot before I found out I wasn't allowed to video tape the performances.

This was actual dancing.  Lion King was jumping while music played.  At least I think music was playing.  I couldn't really hear.

CTR? Nope

At the hotel pool today we went to the hot tub.  Getting out was a guy with a beer and several tattoos.  As he walked by and we exchanged passing greetings, I looked back as I passed and saw that his backwards hat said CTR on it.

Seriously?  Sure thought so.  The T was a sword, and I've seen rings with that design before.

He came back in the hot tub later with another drink and the same hat, so I could get a better look.  We asked him what the CTR stood for.  He had no idea, but he sure talked fun explaining that.  He's from Vancouver, and talks like he was in Strange Brew--like how I talk when I want to make fun of Canadians, eh.



On close inspection, I could see the CTR was actually a backwards D and an R (I didn't have my camera--I was in a hot tub--so no picture) with the straight left side of the R being a sword and the hit above the logo.  Wow, did that look like CTR.

Instead, it was more like DTR, which is another Utah acronym, but one that means something much different and much more annoying.

Claim Jumper desserts

Someone asked me what my favorite restaurant was the other day.  I had a hard time coming up with one because I love so many.  But really I had a hard time because my favorite place I hardly ever get to visit--there are none within 400 miles of my house.  It's Claim Jumper.  (What's a Claim Jumper besides an awesome restaurant?  It's one who illegally occupies property to which another has a legal claim.)

So, whenever I'm in a city that has one, I stock up.  CJ is good for its food, but is fantastic for its dessert.  The menu used to be more like a novel, but they've shortened it since I went last.  Still, they have steaks, ribs, and chicken, plus pasta, pizza, sandwiches, pot pies, soups, and, the most delicious desserts.

The best is the Chocolate Chip Calzone, which I ordered to eat today.

It's rich, but the bread is unsweetened so you can eat more than you think.  It is a heavenly dessert.

To take home to Utah with me, I ordered a Raspberry and White Chocolate Cream Cheese Pie, which is better than cheesecake, and a Lemon Bar Brulee, which is as good as it sounds.  These both are in the fridge at the hotel and travel well.  A lucky girl will get to share this with me once I get back home.

I didn't order the I d'Eclair, which is an eclair with Bavarian Cream and Ice Cream the size of a football.

It's awesome if you're staying at the restaurant and have four people to help you eat it, but the ice cream doesn't travel well on six hour road trips, no matter how cold it is outside.

Amazing whom you run into

I went an hour out of town for an adventure on Wednesday and ran into more people I knew than I usually do at Costco, where you always run into someone you know.  It's Christmas season, so I thought it would be fun to go to the North Pole on the Heber Valley Railroad.

And since I'm going to Heber, why not find a fun new place to eat.  Trip Advisor rescues me at these times, and let me know about he Sidetrack Cafe.  Their kitchy website made me a little nervous--sometimes these little restaurants close up shop on you without leaving such an announcement on their website or making their coupons disappear.  Happily, I didn't have any coupons.

Sidetrack is more coffee shop than restaurant, but every Wednesday they do a pasta dinner with live music.  I was going on Wednesday, so this must've been meant to be!  But when we got there, this sign was on the door:

On the one hand, that sucks, because I was really looking forward to some pasta and live music. On the other hand, what a great adventure!  We passed a barbecue place right on the way over, so let's go there.

And eating my brisket sandwich, Chris Anderson (does anyone else always end up typing "Christ" when you just mean "Chris"?), former board chair at Weilenmann School of Discovery, one of my many client charter schools, whose former school saves lots of money on administrative expenses.

Then it was off to the train station to catch the creeper to the North Pole.  

And who was waiting to board, but Gayle Ruzicka, head of Utah's Eagle Forum, whom I've met once or twice, the first time in college when she was a guest speaker in a class on social movements opposite a gay-rights advocate.  (Fireworks!)

And after an hour, who gets on the train but my buddy Santa Claus (does anyone else always end up typing "Clause" when you just mean "Claus"?  Damn you, Tim Allen!), whom I hadn't seen in close to a year.  He didn't even remember me and just passed right on by my seat to say hi to some dumb kids sitting in front of and behind me.

But I sang songs with gusto anyway, but not as loud in the train as on the car ride home.  "Snow Globe" by Matt Wertz (who? I have no idea) is the best new Christmas song this year, and you all ought to download it.

Lucky I had a great burger

Here's the burger I had for dinner tonight.

It's the Celestial Burger from Lucky 13, a bar that gives its burgers tongue-in-cheek names.  This has bacon, cheddar cheese, grilled onions and barbecue sauce, as well as leafy lettuce and tomatoes.  That's a fried pickle in the basket along with some beer-battered onion rings.

The bun was fantastic, the barbecue sauce was sweet, and the meat was perfectly cooked.  The Cajun fries were also awesome.  I've had better fried pickles, though.

Lucky 13 is across West Temple from Spring Mobile Ballpark, and they have the leg lamp from A Christmas Story as part of their decor.  All in all a kitschy and delicious place.

Traffic School

I got a ticket in the worst spot, I-15 through Utah County.  I was going too fast, having a fun conversation on the phone and didn't notice my speed.  Deserved it, but that doesn't make it any less annoying to have to pay a double fine ($290!) plus the cost of traffic school.

Last time I was in traffic school was because I was a devoted husband and I went with my wife when she got a ticket.  That was many years ago, and we went to a classroom and listened to a police officer give three hours of driving safety.  But technology has moved on since then, and now traffic school is online.

It's quite the package too.  They've come up with a good way to keep me from cheating.  You have to spend at least three hours online "in" traffic school, but with a limit as to the amount of time you can spend on any one page.  You really have to go through all the material and answer all the questions.

I started on Sunday morning, but three hours is a really long time.  In fact, it's as long as church.  I'm bringing my iPad anyway, because it has the scriptures and all the manuals on it.  And it's hard to hear in Elders' Quorum anyway.  So, thanks, Steve Jobs, you really made church productive.  I got through the rest of traffic school no problem.

And I actually liked learning some things.  I found out that no one ever actually has the "right-of-way," but rather drivers in certain situations (like turning left) must yield the right of way to other cars.  I also found out that failure to drive defensively can get you cited in the event of an accident even if the accident was the fault of someone who failed to yield the right of way.

Anyway, I thought I would be a better driver--more careful, more defensive.  But today when I saw a car in the right turn only lane who wanted to get into my lane, I could have let him in, but I didn't because it was my right-of-way.  And this was after I sneaked into the right turn lane to get around a long line at the traffic light and then sneaked back in when I found a small, but large enough, opening.

Some habits are hard to break.

Jonathan Toomey

When I was in college, I worked at Deseret Book.  I was taken in by the cover of a new children's Christmas book one year, The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski.

It's a story of a wood carver, Toomey, who suffers from the loss of a wife and child, and Thomas and his mother who ask the carver to carve a Nativity set to replace one they've lost.

It's full of beautiful prose that is better read aloud--the sounds of the vowels and the cadence is meant to be performed, as many great children's books are. Illustrations, by P.J. Lynch are also fantastic.

The book can't be more than 24 pages, but loses nothing for its brevity.  I had it in my head that I would make a great movie of the book one day, but discovered today that someone beat me to it.  And now there are musical versions playing on stage, including at SCERA in Orem.

This version adds music, about a dozen characters, and about 90 minutes, but adds nothing in the way of connection to the main characters or emotion to the story.

Do yourself a favor--read this book.

Cribbage

I learned to play Cribbage yesterday.  The game is unlike any card game I've ever played.  In fact, the game it reminded me most of wasn't a card game at all, but Calvinball.



This game, invented by Calvin and Hobbes has only one rule, and that's that you make up the rules as you go along.

Cribbage has such weird scoring rules, and has scores and points for so many different things, that I think someone like Calvin invented it.  He probably got some dupe to play cards, and kept making up ways to get points as the game went along.  "Oh, I just turned over a Jack, and that's called "Nibs," and I get two points for that."  Then later in the game, "Oh, the Jack I have in my hand is the same suit as that card, so I'll call that "Nobs" and take a point for that."

"Oh, I just played a card that added up to 15 with the card you played, so I get two points for that."

"Oh, you can't play that card because with the four previous cards we played that makes more than 31.  I'll go ahead and take a point for that."



Next time I play, I'm going to bring base wickets.

Green Beans

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday.  Hard to compete with Christmas, but that's spread out over so many days that Thanksgiving probably gets the best concentration of cheer on a single day.  For the past four years, I've made the entire meal except for dessert.  This year I'm single, so no point in making the whole meal just for me.  My brother hosted me and two of my sisters' families.  This muse is all about the food.

My brother smoked a turkey and so was also responsible for the dressing and gravy.  All were delicious.  His wife's family has a traditional dish of a lemon jello-type dish made with cottage cheese.  It was fantastic.  Oldest sister brought yams and made a cobbler with peaches, blackberries, and raspberries for dessert.  Middle sister made cheesy biscuits that were sweet and yummy.

I was responsible for mashed potatoes, a vegetable (I was going to do Brussels Sprouts--don't judge), and a banana cream pie.  I left the sprouts at home (oops!) so I had to improvise on the veg.  Middle sis was planning to do something with green beans, but let me commandeer them and try something new with them.  Here's the result:

Here's the recipe, if you can call this musing a recipe:

Vanilla and Pomegranate Green Beans with Bacon
Green Beans, like two hands full (that's what you can hold in two hands, twice)
Pomegranate Seeds
Half pound of good, thick bacon
Pomegranate Juice (not a blend)
A little sugar
Half-stick of soft butter
Vanilla bean
Salt and pepper

Reduce about 1 to 1.5 cups of pomegranate juice with about 1/4 cup sugar in a sauce pan until less then half in volume and thick.  This will take a half hour at least.

Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and stir them into the butter.  Maybe make extra of this to put on rolls.  It's delicious.

Cut the bacon into 1/2-inch pieces and cook those until crispy.  Keep about half the grease in the pan.

Blanch the green beans in boiling water for about three minutes.  Drain and put in ice water to stop them cooking.  Put the pomegranate seeds in a big bowl.

Once the beans are cool, drain them on paper towels so you don't get as much popping when you sautee them.  When mostly dry, put into the bacon grease over medium high heat, season with salt and pepper, and stir until heated.  Add the crispy bacon and stir that for a minute or so.  Then dump this into the bowl on top of the seeds.  Put in the vanilla butter and toss or stir so the butter melts and coats the beans and seeds.  (Almonds might be good in here, too, but older sister has trouble with nuts.)

Pour this out onto a platter or serving bowl, and then drizzle it with the 1/2 cup or so of pomegranate syrup that you've reduced.  Take a picture and put that on your blog and on facebook.

Mashed Potatoes and Parsnips
This is a secret I maybe shouldn't give away, but it's not original to me, so whatever.  This is a great dish and always impresses because no one has ever had mashed potatoes that taste like this.  And since parsnips are just white, they add a unique flavor without changing the color or consistency of the mashed potatoes.

Make mashed potatoes like you always would, but before adding potatoes to the boiling water, boil parsnips (about half as much by weight as potatoes, cut about the same size) for a few minutes first.  (The parsnips need to be quite tender for their core to mash well.)  When all are tender, drain them and mash them as you normally would.  But, you can't use a beater or the parsnip cores won't mash and will float around looking ugly.  Use a potato masher.  I use butter and half-and-half with salt and pepper as my mash additions, but if you normally use garlic, cheese, sour cream, or whatever, the parsnips will really make them shine and bring a unique flavor.  This dish is great with gravy or without.

Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers.

Fried rice

I went speed dating last weekend.  (I didn't feel well, but I was on the branch committee that planned it, so I was obligated to go.)  In one of my three-minute sessions we got talking about food.  I like to cook, so it's a good topic for me.  She asked my favorite food, which I responded was steak, but I never cook it.  Steak is one of those things best done by real experts, and, especially when cooking a great piece of meat over a fire, I really screw it up.

I realized that the things I love to cook the best are those things that I can make better than I can get at a restaurant.  Saturday I discovered that one of those dishes is fried rice.  (If this were a proper food blog, there would be pictures of the fried rice I made Saturday, but it's not, and I didn't take any pictures.)

I've made rice a lot since I got back from Japan and I had some leftover.  Plus, I was on the bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast (BRAT) diet because of the stomach flu.  Saturday afternoon the bananas gave me non-stop gurgly-murglies and totally embarrassed me in the men's room at the Salt Palace.  (The guy in the other stall started cracking up after my symphony.  "Sounds like you ate something really good," he said.  Stall doors closed.  Anonymity protected.  But is this turning into a potty blog?)  So, I knew it was rice on the menu Saturday night.

Fried Rice

Oil (I use Olive)

Garlic

Ginger

Onion

Carrots

Broccoli (other veggies would also good)

Peas

Ham

Soy Sauce

Rice Vinegar

Sesame Oil

Oh, and rice

And eggs.

I had some leftover rice, and only use Calrose.  So heat up the oil.  I use fresh ginger with a fine mesh grater, like you'd use for nutmeg.  Grate that in (I like a lot) along with chopped or minced garlic.  (I don't measure quantities.  If you like garlic and ginger, put it a lot, if not, use a little.)  I had diced the carrots and onions into small pieces, and then put those in.  Stir it around plenty.  It will smell delicious. I usually add a little salt and pepper, but not a lot of salt because the soy sauce later will make it plenty salty. I like to keep both the carrots and onions a little crunchy, so I don't let them go too long while I chop the broccoli into tiny florets and add those.  I add a little soy sauce at this point, which from now on I will call shoyu, because my dad went on a mission to Japan, and that's what we call it.  After cooking that a bit, I like to add the ham so it will have a little crunch and blackness to it from cooking a bit in the hot oil.  Again, it's diced pretty small, like you've seen when you've eaten fried rice before. 

Now for the rice and flavorings.  You may need some more oil at this point so the rice doesn't stick to your pan, so make sure you have enough oil.  Dump in the rice.  Don't dump in more than will fit, that's my guidance.  That's less than you think, because stirring the rice in that skillet or wok is going to make a mess.  Then add more shoyu, the rice vinegar and a little sesame oil.  How much?  Enough shoyu so the rice is brown.  Enough vinegar so it tastes like you want, and not so much sesame oil that it will be all you can taste.  I start with less then I think I'll need, and then add more until it tastes right.

As the rice gets warm, I add frozen peas and stir that around.  Then I scramble a few eggs, stirring them so they break into small, bite-sized pieces, and add those.  Tada!  Saturday I had it with a simple chicken breast in teriyaki sauce (Soy Vey), and tonight I had some leftovers with potstickers.  Delicious both times.  I really feel badly about having no pictures here.  I wasn't thinking ahead.  

Next time.

Nose vomit

This week I got a stomach flu.

Wednesday I had a temple date.  We went to Zupa's, which is always tasty.  I ordered grilled cheese and tomato soup.  I was being so good, right?  I was even being good other days--much better, food-wise, than usual.  I had eaten school lunch (all healthy, Mrs. Obama), yogurt, fruit, and veggies with dinner.  All the good stuff. But after dinner during a session at the temple, I could tell things weren't right.

Man, did I pray to feel better.  How embarrassing would it be to rush out in the middle of an endowment session?  Would everyone think that I suddenly didn't feel worthy?  And what about the guy whose work I was doing?  He must've been so excited when I came in.  Sorry, dude.

About an hour in, I found a good time to excuse myself and rushed out.  I think there's not a lot of cause for visitors to use the restrooms on the upper floors of the temple, because no one knew where they were.  But I found the men's room, and just in time.

It was a bit like this.



But more orange.  Needless to say, I had to bleach my whites.

After I had purged all that yummy tomato soup, I waited for my date so I could take her home, like a gentleman would.  Also like a gentleman would, I made sure to stop at a storm drain for my vomit stop on the way home. "Excuse me for a minute," I said, all gentlemanly, as I got out of the car and spewed into the sewer.  And like a true lady, she had tissue all ready for me when I got back in the car.

It's dates like this that can really bind a couple.

Denver is occupied

While on the way to Steuben's Food Service for a disappointing lunch, I found more disappointment getting there.  Timing just couldn't have been worse.  Just as we got to within a few blocks of the restaurant driving downtown, this started walking by:

Those are the Occupy Denver protesters about to stage a sit-in twenty yards in front of me while I was in desperate need of chicken and waffles.  So, twenty minutes go by.  Do does a guy shouting to everyone that Wells Fargo is guilty of predatory lending.  Protesters sat in the middle of the road, why, I don't know, other than to be specifically annoying.

All I wanted to do was go to eat at this restaurant corporation I'd seen on TV on a station owned by a massive other corporation.  But, then I own a corporation, so I'm part of the problem.

Steuben's Food Service

I love Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.  I'm talking about the show, but I also like to eat at Diners, and at Drive-ins, and at Dives--at least good ones.  And the show highlights good ones from all around the country.  On a whim a few years ago I went to the show's website and suggested they come out to Utah to feature Ruth's Diner, which has okay food and fantastic location up Emigration Canyon.  A few weeks later, I got a phone call from them inviting me up to the restaurant when they'd be shooting a segment there.  Here's the result:



And here's me at Guy Fieri's Camaro.

So, whenever I travel, I check out this website that shows all the places that have been in the show on a map, with links to the videos on youtube and menus.  I've been to a few, including Chino Bandido, a Mexican/Jamaican/Chinese place in Phoenix. I can't recommend that place highly enough.

Today I'm in Denver and I went to Steuben's Food Service, which had a great video and looked so awesome.  It's built in a former auto repair garage, and they kept the garage doors and some of the ambiance.  It's not as kitchy as Donnie Mac's Trailer Park Cuisine in Boise, but it still looked fun.  

But I was disappointed. My sister ordered the Lobster Roll, which was highlighted in the show.  My nephew got the Shrimp Po'Boy.  I had wanted to try the roasted chicken from the show, but it wasn't on the weekend brunch menu, so I got chicken and waffles.

The chicken was actually really good, spicy breading, and who would have guessed, but even better with a little maple syrup.  The waffles were fine, too, but the meal was cold.  Nephew said his roll on the sandwich was stale.  The place was all I had hoped on the ambiance side, but left a little to be desired on the food front, so I wouldn't go back.

Vegetables and Celine Dion

I like to eat at Chinese buffets. They are inexpensive and have good vegetables.  They have plenty of non-vegetables, but I can always get some fresh broccoli and green beans, and I don't know any other place for such at lunch.  I never order salads when I go to restaurants.  It's a weakness, but that's what it is.  If I want to eat some veggies, a Chinese buffet is where to go.

Today I was at Hong Kong Buffet in Cedar City.  I recommend it.  Independent of the two stories below.

Once I was there with a friend.  We were piling up plates and someone walked out of the kitchen.  While the door was open, someone back in the kitchen audibly hocked a loogie.  (I assume he just needed to clear his throat--happens to all of us right?  The point isn't that it was gross, it was just a setup to Bob's punchline.)  Bob said, "That's how they make egg drop soup."

Today they were playing some random Chinese music for the first few minutes I was there.  That happens at Chinese restaurants, and it's not a bother.  But today, the next song was by Celine Dion.  And the next one, and the next one.  The restaurant was playing a best of Celine CD while I'm trying to enjoy Sesame Chicken and sugared biscuits!

Have you ever noticed that when you listen to Celine Dion, things just seem to look and sound worse?  The Lo Mein suddenly looks like pin worms, and the Egg Drop Soup looks like, well, you know.

Cultures

It was a cultural weekend.  On Friday and Saturday, I saw what you might call Utah's cultural bookends.

On Friday, I went to the Heber Cowboy Poetry Festival.  I've never been to anything like it.  Well, that's not ture.  It's not that unlike other small town fairs, except for the theme.  There were booths of people selling arts, crafts, clothes, jewelry, and toilet paper dispensers made of bridles.  You know, the kind of stuff you can find at the Farmers' Market at Pioneer Park.

There was also a vendor selling Cowboy Bubble Bath.

Besides potty humor, there was some awesome looking costumes and art.  Nothing was cheap (sculptures went up to $3,500), but it was mostly amazing.  One photographer has captured some great pictures of wild horses, which she showcased in albums with pictures of weddings.  She'll just drive out on ranges with her camera, find the wild horses, and then get out and follow them around for a few hours, and her results were amazing.

At least I think they were fighting.

So, walking and marveling at the booths took plenty of time, but the real reason to go is for the concerts and readings.  There is in fact a lot of poetry at the cowboy poetry festival.  Poets take turns on stage with country singers and bands.  Scratch that, it's not country music, it's western music.  The best we heard was from Carin Mari and Pony Express.  She's a 17-year-old girl who plays with her older and younger brother. Here's a video of the song we heard that makes me think she's got a future.

 

And then the poems.  MCs at concerts would suddenly break into rhyme.  I'm not sure what the difference between cowboy poetry and regular poetry is, but we did hear a poem about old people losing their teeth when they rodeo.

There were also some big has-beens (I say that very kindly) at the event, including Suzy Bogguss, whom my sister loves, but I didn't get to see her.  We did sneak into the Michael Martin Murphey concert. He sang a bunch of songs I've never heard.  Lots of banjo and guitar, and no percussion.  The music was actually really awesome for that.

I'd go again. Even though you can see booths and free concerts at about any small-town fair, I've never seen this much of this culture anywhere else.

To round out the weekend I went to the Utah Symphony for the first time on Saturday.  I suited up, had a nice salmon dinner and sat in Abravenel Hall for Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, one of my favorites.  I would have paid $50 just to watch the conductor--the music was just dessert.  Seriously.  The folds in his tailed jacket were worth the price of admission.  He looked a lot like this:

 

And since I think I've never heard the 7th symphony without waving my arms to it (it's about as peppy as the above), it was hard to sit still.  My date had to tell me to tone it down.  Beethoven's seventh symphony has the distinction of being the only of Beethoven's symphonies to be featured in an episode of Seinfeld.  (I couldn't find a video to embed, but you can go here and see it at the :36 second mark.)  The second movement is awesome also, and it's the underscore in the king's speech section of The King's Speech.

I used the restroom before the symphony started, and, as I suspected, the toilet paper dispensers were not made of bridles.  It's a completely different kind of culture.

Didit

A didit is what you call someone doing or saying something obviously wrong out of habit or lack of any forethought.  Something like saying "Where are my sunglasses?" when they are on your head.  Everyone does didits at one time or another.

Today I was working with a friend cutting, carrying, and installing fiberglass insulation.  We learned by experience two days before that it's best to do this with gloves, long sleeves, and masks.  (I inhaled some fiberglass particles doing this on the first day, so if I have a "coughing up blood" post in a few days, you'll know why.)  That's not a didit, just a learning experience.

When you're wearing those gloves and cutting thick fiberglass outside in the wind, fiberglass particles get caught on your gloved fingers, which, having thick gloves on them anyway, are already not very good for fine work.  So, Adam got a piece of fiberglass caught on his glove and then, wearing a white mask that covered his mouth and nose, raised his hand and tried to blow the fiberglass off.

That was a didit.

Fatal Fiesta

This is was my first Halloween as a single person since I was too old to go trick-or-treating.  (The last time I did that was 1998 when I was still a baby at 24.  I was a ghost with a sheet and collected candy on my knees.)  Single people, I find, usually don't stay home to pass out candy and make Harry Potter-themed meals (Like Cream of Whomping Willow Soup and Grindylow Cakes) like I used to do.

So, I helped plan and went to a Halloween murder mystery party, the Fatal Fiesta.  I played the Mayor of Fortunado, Diego Dumas, which opens up some great humor if you borrow a joke from The Shawshank Redemption, and becomes even better when everyone is using exaggerated accents.  I was having an affair with the victim, who was my adopted niece.

This party was a blast.  Everyone was into their character, was cracking jokes, and just ate the concept up along with virgin pina coladas.  I'd totally do one of these again, which I found at www.host-party.com.

Also, I won the Best Accent award that night, so that was nice.

UPDATE: A picture.