I’m coming to you from one of the quilt covered couches at the Red Ant Rancho (my aunt and uncle’s house) in Fairfield, Idaho. Even the leather ottoman coffeetable is covered in a quilt. I’m sipping a 20 oz. Breve from the Soldier Creek Brewing Company and listening to "She & Him" while my Mom and Barb (our family doesn’t really use "aunt" or "uncle" unless I’m using it to clarify who’s who in a blog or conversation) watch "Elizabeth: The Golden Age and read cooking magazines. At 2 pm they are going to go to Twin Falls with my uncle, Marshall and the contractor who is building my Mom’s house to look at house stuff. I’ll be making banana bread while they are gone.
On the way here, though, a few interesting things happened, not to mention leading up to today. I thought I’d share these moments with you.
Mr. Appliance
On our way out of Greeley, Mom and I grabbed a quick lunch at McDonald’s which we were eating in the parking lot and we saw a van with a grey-haired man wearing large spectacles in it marked "Mr. Appliance." For some reason we got it into our heads that we wanted his autograph. I can’t remember why except that we are often fascinated by such things. We did not think this was Mr. Appliance, however. We figured there was a fleet of Mr. Appliances. For instance, this might have been Bob Blender, Carl Cuisinart, Don Dryer, Doug Dishwasher and so on and so forth. We thought we could collect all of their autographs and someday complete the collection of autographs along with pictures of ourselves with each Mr. Appliance and think back fondly on our chance encounters with household celebrites.
Tumbleweed Teeth
While driving through Wyoming, which is notorious for its wind on a normal day, we were being battered by quite the wind and dust storms. Along with this, the highway seemed to be alive with tumbleweeds. They were rolling by is in sizes of large globes, human heads, footballs and even hackey sacks. As far as the eye could see, they were rolling. Occasionally, they would flip up in the air like acrobats or joyful children doing cartwheels. At one point, two men on motorcycles were in the other lane without helmets but ironically large beards resembling the tumbleweeds on the highway. Mom and I were waiting for one of the tumbleweeds to attach itself to the man’s beard like Velcro and then another tumbleweed attaching itself to that tumbleweed and so on and so forth until the beard and the chain of tumbleweeds were sticking straight out in front of him and his beard arrived to his destination an hour before he did.
His and Hearse
About an hour out of Twin Falls, Idaho my Mom and I ended up behind two identical hearses. According to the license plates, they were from Oklahoma. For the, pardon the pun, life of us, we could not figure out what two hearses from Oklahoma were doing, driving in tandem, in the middle of Wyoming. They would change lanes together at random and then get back in their original lane for no apparent reason. Naturally, I wanted a picture of this strange phenomenon more than anything. I wanted to get a photo of them, one in front of the other in the opposite lane with the tall, majestic clouds over the Wyoming prarie behind them and spent 48 minutes doing so. My Mom spent no small amount of time trying to force the slower, second hearse, (driven by a woman with tall, white hair that matched the clouds, who seemed to be cleaning her glasses every time we came dangerously close to passing her), closer in proximity to the front hearse so I could get them both in frame. No dice. Not only was she keeping the obligatory two car space between herself and her partner but she was also a very courteous driver. She read my Mom’s nudgings as impatience with her driving and was constantly pulling over and driving on the shoulder of the road so my Mom would have room to see past her and room to get around, as though hearses are incredibly hard to see over when you’re in a Jeep. We appreciated her courtesy but could she have just tailgated her partner who was a very solemn looking man with shoulders up to his ears and certainly the owner of an Ace comb, we would have been satisfied. Ironically, it was one of the most exhilirating moments I have had in a year chasing after a photo and it was brought to me in the vehicles of the dead. I couldn’t have felt more alive and I actually came out with a photo for my show in June.
Big Little America
Little America, the amazing magical chain, with their $.50 ice cream cones, 24 hour coffee shop that offers doughnuts not donuts and milk from stainless steel dispensers with bladders full of moo juice, cold and delicious, served "ice cold" and with a lovely smattering of bubbles, decor that is both modern and yet oddly lost in time, hotel rooms that feel like small apartments and beg you to nail pictures of family on the walls and put orchids on the window sill in the bathroom with its towels properly sized and piled high on a rack inside the shower so they are not wet but toasty warm and not taking up room in the rest of the bathroom. Did I mention they’d mounted plasma televisions on the walls of each room since I last stayed at Little America? No? They did. I watched "Family Guy" in style and then passed out from my day’s adventures under the perfect weight of bedclothes on th perfect pillows. I wasn’t sure, as part of the remodeling, handmaidens appeared to dress you in the morning so I went ahead and did all of that myself. Apparently, I was also super organized because before my Mom was fully dressed and ready to go I was packing the car and as she finished using a bag it was in a car. I was hopping. I told my Mom if I’d had a whistle it probably would have been hanging from my mouth wheeting as we did the obligatory room sweep and shut the door to drive over to the main building and check out where we also had an amazing breakfast, sitting at the counter in the coffee shop. I had french toast with thick cut bacon. That’s the thing with Little America. You always get more than enough butter for your french toast and it comes whipped in a cup. You don’t have to pry it out of little packages that reveal cold, hard pats of unspreadable butter. The salad dressing? You automatically get two portions. They get that one is not enough. It’s part of the deal. They offer to rinse out your travel mug before they fill it with coffee and leave just the right amount of room for cream, which I did not have to add sugar to because the coffee was that good. Daaaaamn. This is why Little America is a tradition in my family. Even going back to when my Mom, Aunt and Uncle were kids. My Granddad had a saying. "Always go first class." It just so happened to be my Mom’s birthday when we landed at Little America. My Granddad loved Little America and had he been there, he would have gone first class and no doubt have said, "Order a steak, Anita!" So, she did. When she was a kid, my grandparents used to eat shrimp cocktails at restaurants and I egged her on to get one, saying "Go first class, Mom!" She ordered a shrimp cocktail, a salad (two salad dressing portions--natch) and a t-bone steak dinner, complete with baked potato and peas and carrots. I had poached salmon because I’d never had poached salmon. I found out I love poached salmon. The next morning we found a couple things in the gift shop, including a charm bracelet for me. I picked out a charm that had the famous Little America penguin holding a ribbon that said "Little America." Mom found a clock for the new house she was building and a t-shirt. We went first class.
6:30
We rolled into Fairfield that day around 6 pm. It would have been slightly earlier had we not stopped a couple times to search for a coin changing machine and then abandoning our search in lieu of a bank where normally they have machines that will count the change and the teller will give you some cash. However, we found the one bank that did not have that machine and the one set of tellers who were actually delighted to count the thirty dollars in change my Mom had that she wanted to switch and give to me. Apparently, they were all, What the heck! It’s Friday! Let’s let our hair down and count some change! Woot!! *insert puzzled face here* Whatever gets the job done. I had a nap in the car in the parking lot.
Once we checked in and said hello to the owners’ dog, Buddy, we headed up to Marshall and Barb’s house on the outskirts of town, technically what is known as Soldier but well, trying to explain what Soldier is or was is like trying to find humor in a Family Circus cartoon. When explaining how to get to their house, you just say, "Turn in the opposite direction of the Methodist Camp," which is just a natural reaction so it’s pretty easy to find.
It’s been Old Home Week for the past two days, with various activities including massive consumption of a huge red velvet cake for most meals including breakfast, duplication of my Grandmother’s salad dressing, finishing crocheting my awesome scarf, talking, laughing, forming a committee to screen the single men of Fairfield who are already inquiring as to my Mom’s marital status (I like the one who is inadvertently growing a mohawk), making my smooth as glass shards attempts at flirting with the guy working at the local coffee shop, making banana bread, watching "Revenge of the Nerds" and "Once Bitten" and realizing some things never ever get old and basking in my family and the gorgeous Idaho countryside.
It seems like so much more has happened that is funny and important but those things I suppose will pop up in moments in conversation or other blogs when something else reminds me of said times that currently escape me momentarily.
To Be Continued (There is the ride home)...
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