On Mr. Spud, Geysers, and Summer Tourist Season

Me and Mr. Spud

As a part of our faux Parents Weekend, we were determined to get reacquainted with the area in which CAL has been living. This meant road trips to Jackson Hole and Yellowstone National Park.

In the winter, Jackson Hole is a Mecca for skiers. In the summer, it is a Mecca for tourists (more on them later) looking for deals on bad Western art, cheesy Western-themed outerwear, and crappy t-shirts. Once you step away from the throngs and look up at the mountains that surround the town, their beauty reminds you to slow down and take it in. In spite of the fact that much of the view was hampered by haze from the forest fires in neighboring states, it was easy to take in the beauty of the area.

With 'Take it in' as our theme, I did something I rarely do - pulled over to take a photo of something sublime in its ridiculousness. When you blow by an enormous potato on the bed of an old pickup being 'driven' by a couple of smaller potatoes, of course you pull over. Hence, my photo with Mr. Spud at the finest drive-in movie theater in all of Driggs, ID. Awesome!

While Jackson Hole and its environs were beautiful, they paled in comparison to Yellowstone National Park. Words can't describe the stark beauty and awe-inspiring wonder of this place. The earth simply does not fool around here. The hot pots, the falls, and the geysers were each a testament to the beauty of this earth. 

Now, while the Old Faithful geyser was cool, it proved, much like creepy Josh Duggar to be less than faithful. The geyser  was 45 minutes late to its scheduled 'eruption.' The better geyser was the Beehive, just across the way from Old Faithful. It erupted like the angriest bidet on the planet. My favorite geyser, though, was the Spasm Geyser. Not because it's eruption was the most spectacular, but because of its name. Seriously, the Spasm Geyser is the best name ever. To top the Spasm, we took an easy 5.2 mile hike to Fairy Falls. It was worth the chafing I'm dealing with now...

Here's a collection of photos from Yellowstone:

Suffice to say, it was amazing. This earth, this incredible creation, is a gift.

Based on the hordes of tourists at both Jackson Hole and Yellowstone, lots of people are wanting to see this all too. Some observations:

When pretty much every store in Jackson Hole now accepts China Union Pay, you know the Chinese tourism moment is far from over.

When the Eastern European girl working in one of the stores is driven to near tears by yet another Chinese tourist cutting the line, you simply smile, and tell her, "Honey, it's only going to get worse."

Why do Europeans insist on wearing  winter coats as they trudge through a national park on a warm summer's day?

The National Park Service would be wise to ban the scourge that is the selfie stick.

And, finally, lest anyone think the bus tour is dead, it is not. However, based on the average age of their participants, it is not long for this earth. The location of the nearest bathroom should not be the key topic of discussion in a stunning national park.

That said, I'm glad I could share the beauty of this earth with CAL and the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML. It's been great. I like this DIY Parents Weekend thing.

Making our own 'Parents Weekend'

Because the BYU-I has sought diligently to differentiate itself from its Overlord nestled to the south behind the Zion Curtain in Provo, UT, the BYU, things are a little different in Rexburg, ID.

For instance, there is no official 'Parents Weekend' in Rexburg. This is, in my opinion, a travesty. During Our Lady of Awesome's four years at the BYU, I did four years of Parents Weekend shenanigans and it was great. The first year, back in 2008, spawned a picture featuring me, my daughter, and one Cosmo the Cougar that is in its sixth, yes sixth, year of being used by the University to pimp Parents Weekend. Without a 'Parents Weekend,' no such photo op existed for CAL.

So a few months ago, we decided we'd do our own 'Parents Weekend,' and hence, here we are in Rexburg. A few highlights:

It's summer break here in what is a tiny college town. Without the students, it is a ghost town.

You would think the management of the local Albertsons, a grocery store, would take advantage of the break time to clean up their store. You would be horribly wrong in that assumption.

The owner of the Great Harvest Bread store is my new BFF. We went in the store yesterday afternoon for one of their cookies and they were sold out. This was a devastating blow. She asked me what I was hoping to get and she offered to have it made for me. I will have a dozen cookies waiting for me this morning. All is right in the world.

The campus is beautiful. It would appear the cash I've been sending here the last four years has been well spent. 

Having CAL show us around her workplace in Word Nerd Heaven, the campus library, was great. Did you know that it is someone's job to vacuum the books? Well, it is. I saw them in action yesterday. I was oddly jealous. I want that job.

Because Rexburg is a small town and it's break time, there's not a lot to do. But when you are a quick drive away from Jackson Hole and Yellowstone, you've got options. 

More to come on those stops on the DIY Parents Weekend Tour. Stay tuned!

Schooled. Courtesy of my 19 year old son.

He schooled me.

In his main letter (email) to the family that arrived early today, TMFKATB said the following, 'I miss all of you but things are smooth here.' That certainly wasn't all he said, but there's a certain degree of comfort that we take as his parents when he can say things are smooth. We take that to mean all is well.

In his stream-of-consciousness writing style, he also slipped in this gem: 'I also bought new pedals for my bike and put them on. It's nice having two pedals rather than just one.' Ya' think? This janky bike, of course, was the replacement bike for the one he wrecked last week. A+ for the initiative to move up to two pedals!

There wasn't a lot more from his main letter. More striking was his response directly to me that he sent after he read the letter I sent him. The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I send him separate letters each week, but after twenty seven years together, we continue to think more and more as one. Read our separately written, yet nearly identical weekly letters to TMFKATB. It's eerie.

Anyway, in my letter, I was lamenting the August doldrums and how pretty dull my life was right now. He was having none of it. In beautifully written Spanish, the son schooled his old man. He asked me the following:

Is there anything you haven't been doing that you need to be? (Insert dagger) It could be running or who knows. Maybe you just need something new. I would just make sure you use your free time well. Most of us are just on our phones. (Now twist dagger repeatedly) I know when I was bored back home I would go on my phone...that may be the trick. Who knows. Maybe meeting new people at work. Trying something new or going to a new place might work. Hopefully you get over this fast. You got this.

So there it is. TMFKATB for the win! Schooling his dad. The thing is that he is, of course, right.

I hate when that happens. Now I need to go put his lesson into action.

Speaking of lessons, here's why you might not want to down a handful of wildly tart blackberries:

Those First Bad Miles

@thetelegraph.co.uk
While not me, the sweat, pasty white legs, and expression are tragically familiar.

Once upon a time, I was a runner. No, really, I was. And by 'runner,' I don't mean an uncanny ability to run at breakneck speed whenever the "Hot Doughnuts" sign started flashing at the nearest Krispy Kreme. At the peak of my running, I was putting in close to 30 miles a week, got more than a few 5K and 10K races under my water belt. I paced a friend during one of his epic ultra marathons and I even completed two half marathons. I loved it. I loved the training. I loved the feeling of the sun on my skin. I loved the feeling of snow crunching under my running shoes. I loved the paradox of sweating as it snowed during a five mile run. I was never going to break a speed record or be first across the finish line but I loved how I felt. Oh, and I loved being twenty fives pound lighter than I am today.

And then one day, I didn't love it anymore.

Literally (thanks, Chris Traeger), it was over in a day. Well, maybe not a day, but it was shocking how quickly this thing I'd loved for several years disappeared from my life. Not shocking was how quickly the weight came back, giving me the #dadbod I now sport. The reasons for the 'falling out of love' are myriad and by and large, they are nothing more than a series of lame excuses. I'm not happy about it. I feel guilty in the company of my friends who run. While I am still a subscriber to Runner's World, I am embarrassed to read it in public. Somehow the visual of a magazine dedicated to running and staying healthy resting on my bulging gut as I read it on the train is all kinds of not right. Not right at all.

Several years ago, Simon Pegg (the pasty Brit about to have a seizure in the picture above) starred in a film called, "Run Fatboy Run." Pegg plays an out of shape, lazy bloke who decides to win back the affections of his ex-fiancee and son by running the London Marathon with an obscene lack of training. Without giving away the plot details, you can guess how it ends...of course, he finished the marathon (in ugly fashion) and wins back the love of his life. Go, romcoms! Because that's how life works, right?

Why the film reference? Because I woke up yesterday morning and said, 'I'm running again.' I laced up my beloved Brooks and like the Fatboy from the movie, I ran and I ran ugly. It was an ugly two miles yesterday. Some of the hardest two miles I can remember. But here's the thing...I liked it.

There will be ups (my manboobs flailing akimbo - Farmington Trail runners, you have been warned!) and downs (my uncanny ability trip while running). It's not going to be pretty, but as a Bollywood singer once warbled, "Love's never easy." I'm ready to fall in love with running again. So here I go.

Wish me luck.