Dinosaurland!

Hey, kids! I'm in Vernal, preparing for my presentation tomorrow at the library here. I am grateful for the opportunity I have to travel to small Utah towns, courtesy of the Utah Humanities Council. Just toured the library and it's really fantastic--very inviting in every way. Well played, Vernal! I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

Anyhoo. Whenever I travel like this, I always eat dinner at a local diner, and I have come to this conclusion: the food is never as wonderful as I want it to be. Diners pretty much serve food like Lamb's, a Salt Lake institution for decades, which (nonetheless) serves fruit cocktail from a can. JUST LIKE OUR MOMS USED TO. M-m-m-m-m. Home cookin'! (Literally.)

There's a certain kind of nostalgic comfort to be derived from this kind of food, I suppose--if you can manage to dial down your expectations.

Something you see a lot of in Eugene . . .

. . . are guys not wearing shirts. And I ask WHY? What is it about this place that makes men of all ages, sizes and shapes strip down to their pecs? Not a good look really. Most guys don't look like Matthew Mcconaughey or Mario Lanza with their shirts off. And the ones that do (including Matthew Mcconaughey and Mario Lanza) look vaguely narcissistic, you know?

Ken arrived yesterday to see the bambina. I'm happy to report he's kept his shirt on.

Had another Voodoo Doughnut this morning--the Voodoo Doll Doughnut with a pretzel stake through its heart. Because why not?

Ta-da!

Bates Motel. And it LOOKED just like the old Bates Motel in PSYCHO. So maybe that was deliberate? But if so, is that the best of all possible advertising campaigns?

Meanwhile as I was flipping through the channels last night I noticed an opportunity to sign up for a summer recreational program called "Scuba Diving with Jesus." Who knew THAT was an option?

Oh. And I had a steak sandwich last night at a place called Meat Hook Steakhouse. I always love me a restaurant with the phrase "meat hook" in it.

What I saw on my way to see the baby

So I was driving on Highway 20 through Oregon when I spied a super run-down dumpy motel, and can you guess what it was called?

Talk amongst yourselves and post responses . . .