I want to be an intrepid explorer.
The day after Phyllis melted a pound of butter on the stove, I was looking at photos of Canyonlands National Park, Utah, on flickr. If you're going to review places to visit, you have to do your research. There is one photo of a group of bicyclists standing on a cliff, and they are all smiling. They are set against a backdrop of Pawnee Buttes times a thousand.
This morning, I'm having four large, raw carrots and I'm dipping them in dill veggie-dip. The dip smacks of a zesty tang, and gives the carrots that all important zip that you just can't get from crunching carrots alone. Phyllis said orange vegetables have lots of Vitamin A. Or was it D. Whatever. Sometimes I feel like cooking, but only when I'm not busy researching places to visit. Yesterday, Phyllis and I made omelets. I did the chopping, and Phyllis did the frying. I chopped fresh, whole mushrooms, onions, pepperchini, and peppers from the garden. I had been more than willing to also cut up tomatoes, but Phyllis doesn't like soft, cooked tomatoes. I had bought the fresh, whole mushrooms, along with a four dollar box of fancy breaded crumbs to fry breaded mushrooms, but then Phyllis melted the pound of butter on the stove. It's just as well because I lost the four dollar box of fancy breaded crumbs.
We also put cheese and ham in the omelets. The cheese was from a jar of Tostitos corn dip cheese, and the ham was from what Phyllis had baked the day before, when the butter melted. I had taken the butter out of the freezer intending to use it for the fried, breaded mushrooms, and set it on the stove to defrost. Then Phyllis baked a ham. It was a good-sized, hefty hog's butt, so it took a few hours to bake. Phyllis spiced up the omelets and I'm telling you, I knew I was eating something. I've never had an omelet that came even within a mile of the quality of that omelet. I also had some cottage cheese on the side, but Phyllis skipped the cottage cheese for herself. She also said she couldn't finish her whole omelet, but I made short work of mine, despite the fact that it covered three-quarters of my plate.
There is another national park in Utah called "Arches," so named due to the numerous arch-like rock formations. There is one photo on flickr called, "Waiting for sunset at Delicate Arch." As the shot is taken looking left, I counted 64 photographers in a double row in what looks to be about a fifty foot stretch, packed in like dancers in a chorus line. I can't see how many there are if looking to the right, or how far that line extends.
If I'm going to write travel essays, I need to go somewhere that is hard to reach. Otherwise, heck, go there yourself and see it. One of my goals is to reach Angel Falls in Venezuela. If I make it to Angel Falls, I'm telling you, I'll know I am an intrepid explorer.
