On the heels of a precipitous, quad burning pilgrimage to lay hands on the alter of the East Temple, yesterday found the Gang slogging up and down a seemingly endless series of deep sand knolls—sand so fine that the next step in its evolutionary destiny is to become dust—a sand as fine as the air we breath, so fine that it filled our shoes and penetrated tightly woven socks. It's one discouraging matter to find it necessary to stop and pour sand from one's shoes, a more disheartening matter entirely to pour sand from one's socks. Searching for inspiration to endure, Suzanne and I invoked scripture. Finding legs no less on fire, I made the leap from Jesus to Zig Ziglar, "What you get by achieving your goal is not as important as what you become by achieving your goal." Sometimes Mother Nature requires us to labor and toil in order to indulge her best kept secrets. What did you think, She was just going to serve them all up at a roadside turnout? Look what happened the the Grand Canyon. Is that what you want Grasshopper?
There were reports of some pretty big gusts from the RV boondock camp down the road yesterday morning. Suzane had to pull in her slide, and door mats were swept away to the Big Abyss, while scarcely four miles east at the Five Star Luxury RV Resort, a guy could both spit and pee into into the wind and get nary a sprinkle on his Crocks. The closer one camps to Hurricane, the closer one gets to hurricanes.