Kanab

Apologies for the lameness of the prose in recent posts. I don't write well when exhausted. Add sleeping well to the things I've missed on this trip. I miss my cat; I miss my guitar; I even miss Florida humidity, whose benefits to my sinuses I never appreciated. Those aren't flakes of dandruff in my hair. That's remnants of a sunburn on my scalp peeling off. I now have to apply sunscreen directly to my head.

I am at this moment being tormented by a fly in room 108 of the Super 8 motel in Kanab, Utah. Kanab is about 80 miles north of the Grand Canyon, which is the closest place we could find a room for the night. I had made reservations for the Grand Canyon Inn in Fredonia, Arizona, which is about 8 miles closer but when we went there to check in, the office door was locked, no one answered my knock and the only ones around were a mother cat and her four kittens. They weren't any more welcoming than the locked office door.

The Super 8 front desk attendant recommended the Houston's Trails End for dinner. We ate overpriced food served by a 40-something waitress wearing a uniform consisting of flannel shirt, black Levi's jeans and belt holster complete with toy pistols.

"I didn't realize this came with peppers," I said when the waitress came by on that first check shortly after she has delivered the food to make sure she gave us the right dishes. Five minutes later I had just started eating when she came back.

"How is it now that you've picked the peppers out of it?" She asked. Thanks for your concern.

It was an aggravating day. We're running out of time and I'm afraid there are things that we should be seeing that we're missing. The best picture of the day was probably one of a lizard, whose cousins I see every day at home.


How about that? Jim just killed the fly. Maybe things are looking up.