The long way home, part 1

[Backdated post]

As you may already be aware from previous posts, with optimal road conditions it's possible to drive from Provo, Utah to Seattle, Washington in 16 hours or less.  Captain Midnight and I have accomplished this all-day road trip on several occasions.

This time the trip took us four days.

No, our car didn't have a nervous breakdown.  We just decided ahead of time that we wanted to make this a leisurely adventure, driving the longer route on I-15 through Montana and from thence to I-90 west across the Idaho panhandle, and stopping anywhere we came across an interesting geocache or waymark on the way.

This morning we woke up when we felt like it, puttered around Mom's house gathering up our stuff, bade Miss V goodbye for the summer, packed the car and finally headed north on the far side of noon.  Somewhere around American Fork we pulled over to indulge in the grand Western American tradition of an In-N-Out Burger (nom), then motored on with full tummies.

In a housing development in Sandy, a suburb of Salt Lake City, we came across this heroically-posed car parts sculpture entitled "Iron American."

 

One heroic pose deserves another, ne?

Anyway, after many hours of driving across northern Utah...

...we finally arrived at the Idaho state line.  And there was much rejoicing.  (hooray)

For some reason I was quite insistent.  "No!  I da ho!"

Ehem.  So after finding a geocache and generally jumping about with glee at having entered another state...

... we got back in the conveyance of pleasure and continued on our merry way.

Southern Idaho, perhaps unsurprisingly, looks a lot like northern Utah.

The next time we pulled off the freeway to find another cache, I noticed there were a few enticing waymarks in a little town only a few miles away.  So it was that we found ourselves in Downey, Idaho, population 650.

Downey is about a square mile in size, and as far as we could tell from our wandering around, the town doesn't have a single stop light.  There's one modest grocery store, a movie theater...

... a postage-stamp-sized post office...

 ... and a tiny library, all on the same city block.

One of the city parks boasts an historic pioneer cabin (apparently doing time for a crime it didn't commit)...

... and an old school bell, which I promptly rang, mostly because I could.  It had a great tone but was, um, quite loud.  I didn't choose to ring it again.  Meanwhile, Captain Midnight was busy combing the area for geocaches.

We found a memorial to the people of Downey who went to war and never came home.  It's sobering to think of the many people from this very small town -- a town that probably can't afford to lose many residents -- who gave up their own lives and futures so that others could maintain their freedom.

Oh, one last delightful tidbit about Downey: despite its small size, it's one of two cities that play host to the Bannock County Fair each year.  The fairgrounds are at the western edge of town, just north of the park with the pioneer cabin, with rows of livestock barns to show off prize cows and pigs and a small fenced-in rodeo arena.

It's hard to tell from this picture, but there are a couple of riders practicing in the arena.

Goodbye, Downey, it's been nice. Next stop: Idaho Falls.

Yes, there are actual falls in Idaho Falls, though they're really just a step away from being rapids on the Snake River.  Though they're not very tall, they're quite wide, running diagonally across the Snake.  The falls generate a lot of hydropower for Idaho Falls and the surrounding area.

Also, they're quite picturesque.

We found a locally owned motel -- simple but comfortable -- and settled our things in for the night.

After enjoying an Idaho sunset...

... and its enchanting aftereffects, we ventured forth to find some barbecue for dinner.  And then, naturally, Captain Midnight went scouting for geocaches.  (He is a caching machine!)

Good night, Idaho Falls.  We'll see more of you in the morning.  *zzzzzz*

Only in Salt Lake City: Gilgal and grub

[Hello, many visitors from the ex-Mormon Reddit site! Come back to church; we miss you!]

[Post is backdated to reflect the actual date on which these events occurred.]

So Captain Midnight and Miss V and I have been in Utah for the better part of two weeks.  First we enjoyed the company of my family, then CM and I packed up and headed up Ogden Canyon to attend CM's family reunion.

Many happy activities occurred there, including mass T-shirt tie-dyeing.  By the time we were through we all resembled exuberant hippies.

However, by today CM and I were ready to have some different adventures.  So after packing up our stuff and departing the family reunion, we decided to go looking for geocaches, waymarks and other random interesting bits in the Salt Lake City area (because, after all, that's what we do).

Here's where we went:

Maybe you've heard of this place.  Maybe you haven't.

It's a sculpture garden, hidden away in a discreet corner of a Salt Lake City residential block.  The entrance is sandwiched between two houses.

Looks rather lovely, doesn't it?

All the beautiful plantings, and the paving stones and quotes carved into the rocks...

... and the huge sphinx with the head of Joseph Smith...
wait, what?

Yeah, Gilgal Sculpture Garden is one of those places.  Weird, wonderful and surreal in the extreme, it exists in the freakish no-man's-land somewhere between art and camp.

The sculptures are bizarre in composition and somewhat clumsy in execution, but there's also something compelling about them because they were created with complete sincerity.

Gilgal's creator, Thomas Battersby Child, Jr., was an earnest and devout Latter-day Saint bishop who decided it was his destiny to create one thing the world lacked: an LDS-themed heroic sculpture garden in his own backyard.

By the look of it, Bishop Child took the apostle Peter's suggestion to be "a peculiar people" a little too much to heart.

Some of the pieces in Gilgal are actually well thought out, such as this literal interpretation of Isaiah's prophecy of the last days: "and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks".

And then you turn around and catch sight of the dude with the brick pants.  Seriously, what?  Why?!

But that's just the kind of place Gilgal is. It's hard to know what to make of it.

In the years after Bishop Child died, before the sculptures and plantings were restored and became city property, Gilgal used to be known locally as "Stoner Park" because kids would hop the fence and hang out there to get high.

I think you can kind of see their reasoning.

Some pieces, such as this decorative well, fairly cry out for a garden gnome.

Random quotations from scriptures, poems, hymns and philosophers that Child found interesting or astute are carved on nearly every stone in the garden.  (A few are misspelled.  Hey, I'm a proofreader... I notice this stuff.)

There's even a monument to Child's wife, Bertha.  Heaven knows what she thought of all this.

Ah, but look, he was a man after my own heart: a huge stack of books.

After a certain point, Captain Midnight and I had taken in our fill of Gilgal.  So after bidding it goodbye...

(bye, weird sphinx dude!)

 ...we repaired to a more civilized location.

A place of elegance and refinement.

A place of comfort and good cheer.

A place of... ah, whatever, it's Crown Burgers.

But scoff not, unbelievers!  For the Crown Burger is a wonder of nature even more delectable than the sculptures at Gilgal (and far easier on the teeth).

First behold CM's fantastic fries (and even more fantastic fry sauce, another Utah original).

Then behold the Crown Burger itself, charbroiled, topped with a slice of cheese and piled high with pastrami!  Believe me, friends, it is a thing of beauty.  You might not think pastrami to be a fitting addition to a hamburger, but that's only because you lack the proper vision.  Trust me, if you like bacon on your burgers you are going to love pastrami.

This particular Crown Burger is a special order, dutifully wrapped in lettuce instead of a bun, but if you've got the intestinal fortitude (and a working pancreas) I suggest you try the original.

Also heartily endorsed by Captain Midnight.  Om nom nom nom.

Thanks for the treat, good people of Crown Burgers.  No doubt we'll be back soon!

More of our adventures coming shortly.

TSA = Tyrannical, Stupid, Abusive

THPHBPHTPT.

For the record, I have disliked the "Transportation Security" Administration since Day 1. It's all kabuki theater anyway, since there's no evidence that a single terrorist has been thwarted by the TSA since the agency was implemented. Meanwhile, every day, gobs of average law-abiding Americans or peaceable foreign tourists get pulled out of line and needlessly harassed for no discernible reason, other than that the TSA goons can do it. And anything they can do, they will.

You guessed it: on my flight back to Washington, passing through Salt Lake Airport, I got picked for a random security screening. (I'm pretty sure this happened because I booked my flight through USAA, and was therefore possibly a dangerous terrorist because I was affiliated with the U.S. military in some nebulous way.) I was told I would have to pass through the backscatter machine (aka the Cavity Search Photo Booth), which I flatly refused. I was then told my only other option was to endure a thorough full-body patdown, which I very unwillingly submitted to -- and that only because I knew that, once singled out for this torture, the TSA would not simply allow me to go through normal security screening procedures and get to my gate. They forced me to make a choice between public humiliation or no flight. So this time I chose what, for me, was the less objectionable form of public humiliation.

My torturer was a short, perky woman who was as swift and professional as circumstances allowed. Which is fine, I guess, if you don't mind being tortured swiftly and professionally. Poke, prod, slide, palpate, "widen your stance, please," lather, rinse, repeat. Oh yes, and be sure to swab my clothes so the drug-sniffing machine can make absolutely sure a 41-year-old middle-class Mormon woman isn't smuggling heroin up her fundament. After the ordeal (which I NATURALLY passed with flying colors), I stated loudly enough for everyone around me to hear, "It's certainly a great comfort to know that I'm not considered a terrorist or a drug dealer." Which probably ensures that I'll be singled out for this torture again in future, but you know what? The TSA can bite me. If they try to do it again, one of three things will happen, depending on what kind of mood I'm in:

1) Mischievous: A very loud faked orgasm that will make that scene from When Harry Met Sally look like an episode of Romper Room.
2) Combative: Before they try to make me choose between The Nekkidifier or The Gropes of Wrath, I will ask, "Would you please specify the reason why I am being singled out for this treatment?" If they tell me the choice was made entirely at random, I will say, "That's unacceptable. U.S. common law is based on presumption of innocence. You are treating me as though you suspect me to be guilty of a crime, so name the offense or let me pass through normal security procedures. If you are singling me out for additional screening, you must have probable cause. If you force me to go through this screening anyway, and when I pass -- not if -- I will immediately contact my lawyer and seek punitive damages against the individual who performed the patdown and against the TSA if at all possible. I will then call all the local news agencies and let them know what happened. I will do everything in my power to ensure this incident will be yet another public relations disaster for your agency. So, now, how would YOU like to proceed?"
3) Fuhgeddaboudit: If I have the luxury of time, I will ask the TSA to provide a full refund of the money I paid for the ticket. If they won't do it, I'll go back to the ticket counter and explain that because the TSA denied me my right to fly, I will require a full refund and, regrettably, will not be flying with that airline again. Then I'll take the money and rent a car or take the train.

I'm not ready to say I won't fly ever again, but every time I go through this crap I'm getting a little bit closer. And this week I took a huge step in that direction, thanks to the goons at the TSA. Thanks, guys!

A Vain State

Yesterday I went to the opener for my sister's solo art show.

(As you might be able to tell, my brother decided to get artsy with the photos.)

The venue had a live DJ. Lots of family, lots of friends, quite a few people who just heard the music and wandered in.

By the time we had to leave, Shelly had already sold 10 prints! Not too shabby.