gfish | Spokane and Back Again: A Travelogue

My parents started building a garage this summer. In the process a lot of water damage was discovered in the older part of the house. Costs and scope ballooned, so it was decided that we could do some of the work to save money. So I went over for the weekend to help run wire and build the loft in the garage. Lots of hammering ensued.

The homestead is starting to get quite impressive. They've been making a lot of improvements since my brother left for college. And they've made it pretty clear that they'd love it if one of use wanted to take the place in 10 years or whenever they decide they're too old to live out in the boonies any more. I'll admit it is tempting, and will probably be a lot more tempting when the time comes. All that space... but 30 minutes outside of Spokane.

I greatly enjoy listening to AM radio on road trips. On the way over I found a talk radio host who was tallying the contributions to civilization by middle-aged white men, as part of an anti-affirmitive-action argument. On the way back I was listening to Farm Fun, which is a tiny agricultural propaganda that I can never get enough of. It had a short piece telling me not to be vegetarian, because meat is just processed grain. Anyway, god put cows on the earth to be eaten, and on the whole they're quite content with their place in life.

I continue to be surprised at how little asian food (beyond generic chinese) is available in Spokane. How did I manage to live there for 19 years? The grocery stores there don't carry sushi! Teriyaki places are rare, thai is almost non-existent, and I don't think you can get pho at all.

There is a song currently getting decent airtime on the radio (She Hates Me, by Puddle of Mudd) which contains the refrain 'She fucking hates me'. In Seattle this is blipped to 'She f*cking hates me' but in Spokane it is blipped to 'She ****ing hates me'.

My brother got an eyebrow stud and has bleached his hair. I knew the fraternity would be a bad influence on him. How very... bland.

As always, a visit home involves a certain amount of dishified television. Time Team has to be one of the coolest shows ever. (Britain seems to have much better taste when it comes to reality TV.) Junkyard Wars still rocks, and I wish the world really was like Iron Chef, with culinary duels and wandering ronin cooks.

Friday night I was struck with the inspiration to do a movie adaptation of Kafka's The Burrow. Unfortunately I can't find a webbed version to link to. I haven't decided on the narrative structure I'd want to use, but I'm picturing it as a wonderfuly surreal production.

The hill that my parents live on (and I grew up on) is covered with wild and not-so-wild apples. The trees don't always produce that much, and the apples aren't very large, but they are delicious. Crisp and tart with a wonderfully dusty taste that I can't find in store-bought varieties. We didn't make cider this year, but knowing that the apples would be ripe was a definite motivator in going home this weekend. I was even able to pick one out the car window as I drove off.