Disc Golf

A few weeks ago I spent the day at a fundraising golf tournament for my work. It isn’t every day that you get to talk to all of Utah’s elite about their prostates and colons. Surprisingly, I didn’t meet any women.

For the past two years, I sat at the golf tournament and thought to myself, “Why is it that I do not like golf?” Could it be that it is a preppy sport? Could it be that I am not any good at it? Could it be that I do not consider anything a sport where you have to be silent or you might distract one of the players?

So it was surprising to me when I had the overwhelming desire to play disc golf. For those of you who are not familiar with disc golf, it is like golf, but with a disc. For those of you who went to BYU, a disc is a small Frisbee.

The University of Utah did something rather peculiar this past summer. They cut up the campus golf course to build research buildings. (A university does research?) Since there is a little bit of grass left over, they decided to build a disc golf course. You can learn all you need to know about disc golf at http://www.pdga.com/ or on youtube.

This morning I woke up early, grabbed some discs and headed out to play golf with them. All of the holes are Par 3 and I successfully shot par on one hole (something I never accomplished with regular golf). I also lost my sunglasses, but it is okay, I found them. At one point, I threw my disc onto the road, so I had to throw from the middle of the road. Good times.

After doing that this morning I became surprisingly addicted. If anyone wants to go disc golfing with me, just let me know. I found out there are about a half dozen courses in the Salt Lake Valley. One of them doesn’t have actual goals, but posts that you have to hit. I got pretty good at hitting posts, and trees, and rocks and goals in the places where you are not supposed to hit them. I didn’t hit any people, but that is because it wasn’t very crowded.

Those Elusive Movie Theater Screens

Mt. Wire is the tallest peak in the hills between Red Butte Canyon and Emigration Canyon. It is only 7100 feet, but the trailheads are all at around 5000 ft. It was the last big hill Brigham and Co. passed as they walked into the valley. Little did he realize that someone would put movie theater screens on the top. They really aren’t movie theater screens, but I always thought they were as I looked at them from my home in Magna.

My friend JP and I used to try to hike to them all of the time. We, a couple of out of shape 20 somethings at the time would talk big about hiking up to them as part of our training program for the annual Turkey Bowl. Basically, we would drive up to the little parking lot across the street from Hogle Zoo and start out hiking. Normally, we would start to break a sweat and begin thinking of reasons to turn around and get a burrito. It wouldn’t take long before the thought of a burrito superceded any motivation of outperforming the other 20 somethings at the Turkey Bowl and we would turn around to indulge.

In June of 2002, I decided that I would play my part in searching for Elizabeth Smart by hiking up to the movie theater screens. Motivated by heart broken parents, a missing teenager and the prospect of a single, attractive, grateful Smart cousin with low self-esteem I propelled myself up Mt. Wire. I made my way through the scrub oak, up the steep, rocky inclines up to the movie theater screens. It took nearly two hours, but I made my way up to find two large things that look like movie theater screens. Unfortunately, it was too steep for the mentally ill religious zealot to take Ms. Smart up there. But I made it and was proud.

Earlier this summer I decided I would return to the top of Mt. Wire and armed with Google Earth, I decided to find an easier route. It turns out that it is only about 1.5 miles to the peak from the Emigration Canyon side. 2000 ft in such a short distance is way too steep for a 30 something with an office job.

So I found what looked like an easier path and set out on Wednesday to try it. I came to a fork in the road about ½ mile up and decided to follow Robert Frost’s advice of taking the road less traveled by. It made all the difference in the world. In fact, I wound up sore and bleeding as I found myself trying to crawl out of a gully that the trail led into and ended. One note about hiking, stick to the main road.

This morning I set out armed with a few powerbars and a large bottle of water. It turns out that the side from Red Butte Canyon isn’t any easier, it isn’t as steep, but it is much narrower, rockier and longer. But I reached the top of Mt. Wire around noon today. I would say w00t. But I am not a moron.

So I completed my goal and hurt all over my body. The good news is that I do not have to battle Mt. Wire until next July when I will be dumb enough to try it again.

Everything’s Up To Date in Rapid City

I realize that most of the people who read this blog (when I update it, that is) are actually with me on this trip. To those of you who are not currently enjoying the soft beds at the Holiday Inn Express in Rapid City, SD, I feel for you.

You know, I am thinking that I am getting these 750 mile/day road trips down. I only had to stop twice, both for gas. I am beginning to see the benefit of having what has been known in my family for generations as “the Yancey bladder.”

In fact, my great-great grandmother, Lorraine Beesley Yancey, crossed the plains in the second pioneer wagon train in 1847 only stopping three times to answer nature’s call along the way. She never really got into the habit after arriving in Salt Lake City. She exploded in 1849 three days after her first glass of Magna water.

I wish I could tell you that there are many exciting things between Salt Lake City, UT and Rapid City, SD. I think the most interesting things are the mileposts along the side of the freeway.

The Nebraska panhandle is exactly what I thought it would be. A bunch of farms complete with windmills, weather vanes and water towers. About every 20 miles or so you pass a tractor taking up the whole street. Every 50 miles you can see tractor junkyards where it is likely that the tractor you just passed is either heading toward or coming from.

I did pass up the chance to stop and see Carhenge, the replica of Stonehenge made from junk cars. You can read more about it at http://www.carhenge.com/index.htm. If you do plan to visit, remember that you cannot camp at Carhenge.

We ate at this fire station converted into a restaurant in Rapid City. The food was pretty good. South Dakota’s own Riff Raff came to play some 70’s and 80’s hits. They were pretty good considering they were getting ready to start the 9^th grade.

On the street corners of Rapid City there are life size bronze statues of the U.S. Presidents. My favorite was the statue of Franklin Pierce because everyone who walks up to it and reads his name says, “did we have a president Pierce?” Yes, and he was immortalized on the corner of 6^th and Main in Rapid City, SD.

Bread Making

Many of you have asked me why I haven’t updated my blog. I have given a variety of reasons. I have even been somewhat mysterious about it. Some have speculated that I have “blogger’s block.” Others have figured that I have been way too busy with school, work, the mormons and the necessary time I spend staring off into space. A few of the more “conspiracy theorists” have concluded that I just decided to start dating. Well, all of you were wrong. The truth is, I decided that I needed to learn to make bread.

 

Here is the story. I decided that bread is too expensive so I decided to start making it. Sorry, it is actually that simple. No a-ha moment in the middle of the night. No “preparedness night” demonstrations. No finding rat claws in my Wonder Bread. Simply, I decided that it is too pricey.

 

As many of you know that when I decide to do something, I have to find the hardest way to do it. So of course, I purchased some wheat, a wheat grinder and did hours of research on the internet to find the best technique. After weeks of research and in depth study, I assembled everything I need to make bread.

 

So I got out the wheat grinder, hooked it up to a table and started to grind away. I am confident that I am the only person in the world who grinds wheat while watching hockey. Since I purchased a hand wheat grinder (I work for a non-profit cancer hospital, I am not made of money) I fueled off the anger. After about two hours, I had three cups of wheat to make bread.

 

I carefully measured the wheat, mixed it with the yeast, salt and water. I carefully heated the oven and placed my masterpiece inside. Just one hour later, I had my first loaf of bread.

 

It had a beautiful hard crust the exact consistency of the interior. I tried to eat some of it, but I broke my jaw. With a thud, I dropped it in the garbage and tried it again.

 

It is funny how you can make two loaves of bread exactly the same way using the same ingredients and come up with two completely different products. Well, this wasn’t one of those times. I came up with exactly the same thing. After another broken jaw and another thud in the garbage I went back to the drawing board.

 

Well, as I write I have my third loaf rising on my table. I am excited for the next part when I get to punch it. I have seldom held the desire to punch anything, but I have a feeling this is going to be a wonderful step in the art of breadmaking. Since I have been grinding wheat for hours at a time, I think I am strong enough to kick the crap out of it. 

Veronica de la Cruz (VDLC)

I have always had a thing for news chicks. Whether it is the blond bombshell on the morning show or the buxom brunette on the night beat, I seem to find myself stopping to appreciate the lovely young women of the 4^th estate. If it isn’t Erin Burnett telling me grim financial news on CNBC, it is the lovely Brooke Anderson telling me what is up with Brangelina.

I don’t know what it is that provides me this notion of beauty. It could be the overstyled hair and excessive make-up. It could be that they never seem to age (Connie Chung still looks great at age 94). Possibly it is the articulate speech, the conservative dress, the attractive head nods, or the alluring voice inflection. It could be that they just read good.

Sins of commission are generally the result of planned rebellion or carnal impulse. My most recent episode of planned rebellion was to walk down Bourbon Street in New Orleans. My most recent episode of carnal impulse was to enter a place on Bourbon Street that I swore I would never enter, a Lady Foot Locker.

It was a carnal impulse that I write about today. About six months ago, I was surfing the web and found myself on the fan page of Veronica de la Cruz, a talented young reporter for CNN. I previously didn’t know who this reporter was before going onto her website (http://www.veronicadelacruzonline.com/) or how I managed to find it. I just know that a) it wasn’t football season because I was on a non-football related website, and b) it must have been really late at night.

As I was beginning to navigate away from the website, I noticed a link for an autograph request. Now, this is how I know that it must have been late at night, because I clicked on the request and filled out the form. At least I must have because I vaguely remember the website and I got a strange letter in the mail from CNN today.

It was a restraining order. Okay, no. It was an 8 x 11 autographed picture of VDLC. She (or a CNN intern) wrote, “Jeff, Best Wishes” on the picture and mailed it to me. Now, I doubt that I am not the only creepy single guy in his 30s who owns one of these pictures, but I may be the only one who doesn’t live with his parents.

The truth is, CNN just awakened the sleeping giant. Now that I know it is possible to get attention from these ladies, I am going to start requesting autographs from all of the reporters. Maybe one of them will say “Love” before their signature. I think it is kind of like going down to Temple Square to talk to the sister missionaries. I can always get them to talk to me because they have to.

75th Anniversary Sugar Bowl

You thought that is all I was going to give you? Sucker.

Football, you see, is not a pessimist’s game. I doubt that Eyeore would make a good linebacker. 

Oh, yeah, I’m talking about the Sugar Bowl.

 Before the game, I walked though the French Quarter and heard Sweet Home Alabama more times than I thought was possible. An Alabama fan offered me some beads if I would just say “Roll Tide Roll.” I suggested I could earn them the more traditional way but he declined. I had quite a few people ask me “What exactly is a Ute?” I am glad that Alabama fans have the ability to think critically. It puts them above everyone who has ever appeared on Deal or No Deal.

 I was delighted to find out that the Superdome’s front row is #9. Since I had a ticket on row 11 that wound up being the third row. I had about a dozen people come down to get their picture taken by the field. I should have charged. There was also some guy that would run down the stairs to give me five after each touchdown. I don’t normally give five, but I thought I should since he made such an effort.

The game was great of course. It is easy to see the significance of the name Crimson Tide when at field level. Hearing 60000 people yell “Roll, Tide, Roll” indoors still puts chills up my spine. The numbers on the side of the helmets were shared by Joe Namath, the sideline marched by Bear Bryant, heck, even Forrest Gump played there. Head Coach Nick Saban’s celebrity in football is akin to the Johnson sisters in women’s curling. Yeah, I know.

Utah alumni do not fill NFL rosters or the walls of the Hall of Fame. Not many list Utah as a football powerhouse filled with tradition and respect. But the Utes won convincingly. The defense held. The offense scored. This was the team I watched since I was a kid. This was the team I drove my drove my VW across the valley to watch. This was the team whose home games I have not missed in 14 years. And I watched them beat the Alabama Crimson Tide. 

As I was driving home from Baton Rouge I had a number of LSU fans honk and wave when they saw my plates.  Utah has made its mark on the SEC. All weekend national sports writers have been trying to figure out what happened and what this all means. I know one thing they will not be asking:

 “What exactly is a Ute?”

Sugar Bowl Excursion Summary

Well, to those of you who were following this blog during my travels I thank you and apologize for not adequately updating you on my status. The truth is, I got into Baton Rouge and although I found it a dilightfullly trashy city, it really isn’t all that exciting. Basically, I drove around for two days looking for places to eat, admiring the feeling of the city and hoping to see an alligator.

I suppose that the reason Baton Rouge is so lame is that it is so close to New Orleans. I didn’t really care for New Orleans. The French Quarter was pretty cool if you could get away from all of the people. Basically it smells like a mixture of booze, smoke, vomit and urine. I spent the whole time wishing I had hand sanitizer.

The Sugar Bowl itself. Whoa.

I will be back with my regular sporadic blogging activities once I get this NOLA smell off me.