Rhythm and Gravy

After a good weekend of the Park City life, skiing and partying in the hardy fashion, I’ve retreated to Helena and the placidity of family and work. I’ve got a new project I’ve been working on, with encouragement from Bryan and Michaele, and it’s keeping me occupied during my days at the Morning Light (best coffee in town), while chasing the Booperman in circles distracts me until bedtime. The sibling unit is keeping her head up, and I’m proud of how good a mommy and strong a woman she is. I’ll be here until Thursday, then it’s off to see what I can make happen in Seattle. Wish me the luck.

Wyoming was supposed to be easy. So I slept a little late this morning, indulged in a nice long breakfast with my aunt and uncle, and took my time getting on the road.

Jake’s 48th law of the American West: Wyoming is a lot of wonderful things, but it is never easy.

North to Cheyenne, the Wyoming wind wagered Colorado that it could toss a Honda Civic back to Nebraska. Failing that, and insulted that I would turn west, it determined to beat me down to 45mph in third gear. The worst part was the nausea as blowing snow turned a road trip into a boat ride on a vertiginous white sea.

But perseverance earned me a beautiful western sunset, which turned the snow purple and sped me to Utah. I’ve shacked up in Park City and am going in search of freshies tomorrow.

Revisited my alma mater today. Ten years on, the area has grown tremendously but the town and campus are mostly the same. Foss Drug, the Ace Hi, Woody’s Pizza, the Buffalo Rose — all still there. Mostly, I was happy to find the Golden City Brewery still selling their Red Ale, so I’m stocked up on that. Seeing Mines again brought back memories… (cue wavy blur flashback effect)…

I wish I had a barrel of rum and sugar three hundred pounds,
The college bell to mix it in and clapper to stir it round.
Like every honest fellow, I take my whisky clear,
I’m a rambling wreck from Golden Tech, a helluva engineer.

A helluva, helluva, helluva, helluva, helluva engineer,
A helluva, helluva, helluva, helluva, helluva engineer,
Like every honest fellow, I take my whisky clear,
I’m a rambling wreck from Golden Tech, a helluva engineer.

And if I had a daughter, I’d dress her up in green,
I’d send her up to Boulder to Coach the football team,
But if I had a son, sir, I’ll tell you what he’d do,
He’d yell “To hell with Boulder,” like his daddy used to do.

He’d yell “To hell with Boulder,” like his daddy used to do.
He’d yell “To hell with Boulder,” like his daddy used to do.
But if I had a son, sir, I’ll tell you what he’d do,
He’d yell “To hell with Boulder,” like his daddy used to do.

Now here we have the mining man, in either hand a gun.
He’s not afraid of anything, and he’s never known to run.
He dearly loves his whisky, and he dearly loves his beer,
He’s a shooting, fighting, dynamiting mining engineer.

A shooting, fighting, dynamiting mining engineer.
A shooting, fighting, dynamiting mining engineer.
He dearly loves his whisky, and he dearly loves his beer.
He’s a shooting, fighting, dynamiting mining engineer.

Had me some tasty free-range, organic, shot by Nate, cooked by Laura elk brats for dinner, and stole some of Laura’s books for the road. I’ll be staying with my Aunt & Uncle for another day, but it should be said that Laura and Nate’s hospitality was worth the 1,000 mile drive and then some. So thanks for putting me up with me.

The drive from Chicago to Denver includes such wonders as Des Moines, Omaha, and a whole lot of big, empty, cold. My wiper fluid, rated at -20°, kept freezing on my window. But only snow in Omaha slowed me down, and my good little car kept the needle on the ocho the rest of the way. Fifteen hours later I was drinking gin and tonic with Laura and Nate.

It’s cold here:

We went to The Egg and I; the Seahawks lost; we went up Coal Creek Canyon to see about the inspection on their home to be. Jack Bauer saved the day. I’m relaxed.