The West Desert

John and I have been planning a three-day, two-night trip west through the desert into Nevada by pickup to do research for our respective writing projects (mine is a novel about fundamentalist Mormon werewolves with a commune in eastern Juab County, and his is a 19th Century polygamist murder mystery), but alas, we shredded a tire on the gravel road between Lookout Pass and Simpson Springs and didn't feel confident enough of our spare to continue west.

It was a beautiful night, full moon, only a little cool. We decided to go on the five miles or so to Simpson Springs to camp and then come back home the next morning.

John, competent as always, changed the tire and we went on our way. You can't tell in the pix, but the moon was like a spotlight and the desert was magical.

Here he starts supper--corn on the cob, fresh peaches and tomatoes, hot chocolate, cheesy potato soup. He cut up a can of spam into the soup, a true desert-rat touch. Yum!

We slept on our cots under the juniper tree.


John told me stories about cattle drives between Greenjacket and Riverbed from when he was a kid. They would often camp at Simpson Springs, which had a pony express station and a glass-bottomed pond for swimming (glass-bottomed with broken beer bottles, and filled in now).

Here's John and Table Mountain:

We went for a short walk back up to the foothills. Here's a higher view of Table Mountain:

Yes! I was there!

Pretty rocks for the waterfall garden:

Driving out this morning, we saw 25-30 antelope:


John at Lookout:

From Lookout you can see Mt. Nebo in the farthest distance. The three peaks are always recognizable, north, south, east, or west, even by air as you're flying home:

Near Vernon we saw a golden eagle on a power line. What a beauty.

At home again, we're bottling tomato juice and peaches, so the day is not wasted. We'll make the longer trip later.

36 Hours on the Beach

Not really 36 hours right on the beach, but a quick trip to Waikiki with Rob and the kids. I'm so glad I went, despite 6 hours on an airplane each way. Above, Rob and babies at the Honolulu airport. I really am a convert to watching airplane movies--even bad ones--as they make the time pass quickly. I've never been able to read much or work on a plane.

We hopped on the Waikiki bus from the airport and got off about 1/3 of a block from our cute little hotel suite. Rob got it for $50 on Priceline.

I slept in the room below all by myself, while Rob and the kids took the foldout bed. I volunteered to have a child with me, but they both wanted their dad. They are very attached to him, and although they'd hold my hand or sit on my lap as second best, they really preferred being with him.

Our rooms were about three short blocks from the beach. Below is proof that I was actually there (picture takers often disappear from the photographic record). Diamond Head is in the background.

Johnathan makes a sand castle...

...and the ocean takes it back.

Rob enjoys the water. It was warm--warmer than the air once the sun set--and very clean.


The sunset only got more beautiful after this. All along the shore toward Diamond Head, (amateur) photographers' flashes were twinkling. I've never understood the point of a flash at long distance out of doors.

Moonrise over Diamond Head:

The next morning we cooked breakfast in our little kitchen and spent quite a lot of time opening and shutting the sliding glass doors to the balcony and running around and through the balcony and rooms and hiding in the closets. At least some of us did.

Back at the beach in a slightly different spot. Rob tried valiantly to keep the kids hatted and sunscreened.

Colette and Johnathan brought me many rocks and other treasures from the ocean, which we regretfully left on the sand.

Later in the afternoon, a lady came up to me and said, "Would you like these? I'm going back to Japan now and can't take them with me," and gave us a pink inner tube and a mat for the sand. We had a lot of fun with that.





More proof that I was there too (below).

Note that I'm wearing the same thing both days. I did change before I got on the airplane for home. I couldn't make up my mind whether or not to swim, as I still haven't been released to do so by my doctor. Instead, of course, I ended up getting wet with all my clothes on.

Eventually, tired and sunburned myself, I decided unilaterally that it was time to find some shade and have a nap. The beach park behind us was lovely too:

Colette fell asleep immediately, and Rob took Johnathan out for a walk.


He was asleep by the time they came back.

We caught the bus back to the airport where we ate dinner and took the night flight for Salt Lake City. I still can't sleep on a plane, but I did get my fill of mediocre movies. Yesterday, with patient appointments, I was not so happy about the whole trip, but today, after a 10-hour sleep, I'm much more enthusiastic about it. I had my first diet Coke in two years yesterday, and it worked (mostly) to keep me awake. No headache yet (if it follows the usual pattern, I'll have my rebound headache tomorrow morning--John says, "Just because you don't get a headache, don't start drinking diet Coke again").

Rob figures that he and I spent less than $100 each, total, on this trip. I spent considerably less--just food and bus rides. It would have been great to have one more day there. Especially if I'd been able to get out and swim. But the evening and the next day were beautiful and it was great watching Rob and the kids and having fun in the waves.

Poor Betsy's 29th

But first a few pix from the week: John and Hero, above, as John talks on the phone. Note John's black eye (he fell and banged his head while running up the Timp trail with Amy and Chris). Below is Claudio on the lawn.

And here is the tail end of the beautiful sunset that evening. I was too engrossed in the bright gold to orange to coral to pink to purple to remember my camera until the last minute.

Today we were planning a full day birthday celebration for Betsy's 29th, going out to eat, possibly shopping, the park, the canyon, whatever. The first hint was when she walked in--"ahh, I feel sick," and she was. Poor Betsy. We still went to lunch but she ate exactly one bite. Here she and Ethan relax on the grass.

Ethan explores the garden:

We still have another tree with peaches not quite ripe. Our pears are turning in the basement--I should have bottled them today, but I was planning on a busy birthday celebration. Didn't happen. Betsy went home early.

And now (that is, after posting these garden pix of course), I'm going to finish up my psych prep for patient appointments on Tuesday, and get ready to go to Honolulu with Rob and the kids in the morning. He invited me, and after dithering around, I decided that I'm up for spontaneous adventure. He said the job is unpleasant enough that his only motivation to keep going is to make sure he takes a lot of trips (John and I travel free too, as his parents--this is the first time I've taken advantage of the perk since he started working for Delta). We'll take a bus from the airport to a hotel in Waikiki and just stay on the beach the whole time we're there. I need to find a swim suit that fits and pack my pajamas, but that's about all. We'll be back early Tuesday morning.

Here are photos of some of the roses in the garden. They haven't put on their usual exuberant September flush yet because it's still so hot, but they're getting there. The deep red Cesar Chavez roses in the front yard are blooming again after taking a rest during the summer heat (I didn't get a photo of them, but there's a vase full on the counter).



This yellow rose must be tender--the new shoots are covered with aphids. I don't know why some get the aphids and some don't.


I'll take my camera to Hawaii and post the pictures when we get back. Betsy finds out boy or girl with an ultrasound on Thursday. Hooray! Either would be great!

Bushman's Joseph

I'm reading Richard Bushman's Rough Stone Rolling biography of Joseph Smith Jr., and making rather heavy going of it. I'm only on about page 120, so my impression may not be entirely fair.

I've always been irritated with and suspicious of Joseph Smith, for unclear reasons (to me) that go beyond the ask-for-your-best-friend's-wife-as-a-spiritual-test and marry-14-year-old-girls problems that preceded institutional polygyny. It's odd that Joseph bothers me so much when Brigham Young, who was an absolute tyrant and much more objectively offensive, doesn't push my buttons. So I am interested in learning about the real Joseph and getting a feel for who he actually was. Unfortunately, reading Bushman is like walking uphill into a strong wind of adulation, as he lays out briefly the non-believer's case for a naturalistic explanation of events and then immediately counters it with long passages expressing how amazing, surprising, and miraculous Joseph's accomplishments (and personality) were.

It's sort of like the anti-Mormons, who want it both ways: Joseph was an uncultured, illiterate, incurious country bumpkin and a machiavellian evil scoundrel who perpetuated an unbelievable fraud. Bushman emphasizes how Joseph simply couldn't have known this or invented that, but then goes off into raptures about what an incredible genius he was. It's like fighting my way through a swarm of hallelujah-humming bees to try to see the real man.

Maybe I need to get further along in the book. Right now I find myself rolling my eyes and slapping the book shut just a little too often.