Never left alone

 "We are never left alone as we work in His vineyard."    David A. Bednar.


I toiled my best in sun and rain, in wind and bitter cold;
my fingers knotted with the strain, I finally grew old.
My usefulness was over, as my legs and arms gave way;
to illness and to poverty I now would be a prey.
But then a mood stole over me, twas almost a caress;
it seemed to say "My friend, I have much more for you -- not less!"
And then I understood at last the Savior's great delight
in helping me through all my days and ev'ry chilly night,
and that He had prepared for me rare comforts not a few;
even now they fall on me as kindly as the dew.
The vineyard's not a dreary place; the work there not in vain. 
The rivers flow so kindly there, and swallow up my pain. 

Restaurant Review: Two Jacks Pizza. Provo, Utah

Two Jacks Pizza on Center Street is a blue collar, utilitarian noshery. It's narrow and noisy and comfortable.

I ordered their homemade lasagna, with a fountain drink. That set me back exactly $10.43. The meal came with a green salad, fresh out of the bag:

I ate it not because it tasted delicious, but because it's good for me. Dammit.
The lasagna is chewy and bland; I had to add a lot of red pepper flakes to give it some 'oomph'. It's hard to tell what's in it, besides lots of melted cheese.
The staff is prompt and cheerful:

I give this place Three Burps.

And now I'd like to step back to reconsider why I'm eating out so much, and blogging about it. I've come to the conclusion that most eating establishments in Provo serve strictly provender -- 'stodge', as travel writer Paul Theroux calls it. It's to fill up your gut, not comfort your soul. That being the case, I might just as well make myself a sandwich at home as to continue going out to places that only cater to my belly, and do that not very well.
After nearly 30 years of always eating out when on the road with the circus, I think I deserve something better when I go out to dinner nowadays.
So I'm reevaluating my restaurant review criteria. Can eating be anything more than a dull shoveling of fodder into my mouth? Especially when I eat by myself?

Well, at least my dessert was a satisfying success. I stopped by the grocery store for an Owyhee Idaho Spud -- "The Candy Bar That Makes Idaho Famous".  They're pretty good, so I bought a couple extra to put in my goody jar for the when the grand kids come over.

Timericks

Stocks and the dollar leapt higher Thursday while bonds remained under pressure as investors bet that a Donald Trump presidency could mean more fiscal stimulus, lower corporate taxes and higher inflation.   WSJ. 

The Donald is good for a rise

in ev'ry legit enterprise;

the stock market soars

and shoppers in stores

economy now do despise. 

OPEC’s oil production rose to record highs in October and is expected to remain elevated this month, a top industry watchdog reported Thursday, highlighting the challenge the cartel will face hammering out a plan to cut output at its meeting later this month.   WSJ.

The sheikhs that are sitting on oil

give their accountants hard toil

to come up with ways

to make the stuff blaze

so they can keep dressing in voile. 

For one group, the post election reaction has been electrifying. Yes California, a grass-roots organization with 3,000 or so supporters, has for years been trying to persuade Californians to take up the cause of secession.   NYT

If Californuts want to leave

I do not see cause to bereave. 

The state's full of smog

and Hollywood grog;

deport 'em all on the qui vive. 

White evangelicals, Catholics and Mormons carried Trump

Mormons nationally, according to exit polls, preferred Trump to Clinton by 61 to 25 percent.  Lauren Markoe, in Religious News Service.

The exit polls know LDS

maintain certain kinds of weird dress;

that's how they do know

to count Mormon flow

(as well as the horns they possess)  

The love of God

"No mistake, sin, or choice will change God’s love for us."   Ronald A. Rasband. 


No matter how we may delay,
there comes on that wonderful day
both judgment and love
from Father above;
hoping that with Him we'll stay.  

Restaurant Review: Golden Corral. Orem, Utah

To celebrate the New Age of Trumpery, I took my daughter Sarah and her family out to eat tonight at the Golden Corral buffet in Orem. It's a franchise, of course, but there are some valid and original points I hope to make about the cuisine and company there.

It cost $43.53 to feed one senior citizen, two adults, and one eight year old. The three year old and the one year old got fed on the cuff. We had water to drink, because fountain drinks cost extra. Besides, Sarah doesn't want the kids to have too much sugar before bedtime.

I have a long and checkered history with buffets. When I was younger and constantly on the make to save an extra buck or two I would surreptitiously fill my coat pockets with rolls, fruit, hard boiled eggs, and salami, to tide me over for my evening meal. This left my clothes rather pungent during the hot summer months. As I grew older I grew no wiser and kept eating like a teenager whenever I paid for a buffet -- which often led to disaster an hour or so later. So tonight I ate rather sparingly.

Sarah and Jonny snarfed down jumbo shrimp and roast turkey, with plenty of sides. Young couples and their sterling digestion . . . it makes me sick!

Grand son Lance kept making a grab for his sister Brooke's food, on the theory that anything anyone else has must taste better than what he has and so belongs to him by right. His droit du seigneur held true until he got a taste of a piece of pineapple dipped in the chocolate fountain. His pained expression would have moved a heart made out of marzipan. After that he was pretty much content to go get his own food.

As the evening progressed our table top disappeared under a pile of dishes, crumpled napkins, and discarded shrimp tails. Goaded by the zestful appetites of the young folk, I ate more than was good for me, and am still hearing rumbles from my innards like the distant thunder of an approaching electrical storm.
It bothers me to see all the food that goes to waste at a buffet; so many plates of food that are just barely tasted and then set aside. If the leftovers could be given to a pig farmer or doled out to the needy I would feel better -- but there's no way a modern buffet restaurant can manage such things. Happily, Jonny and Sarah pretty much cleaned their plates, as did I. After his third helping of jumbo shrimp Jonny said that Golden Corral was a much better buffet than Chuck-a-Rama. I had to agree with him that the food seemed prepared with more care and less industrial homogenization.

As is the wont of a one year old, Brooke enjoyed everything that was placed in front of her -- until she didn't. Then she didn't want to be held and she didn't want to be put down and she didn't want to eat anything more and she whimpered for whatever anyone else was eating, and in general gave warning that a titanic tantrum was building, which would be unleashed on an unsuspecting and innocent world if she were not taken home soon and allowed to run around the living room couch while laughing insanely.

I give the place Two Burps. Mostly because this kind of a buffet restaurant is an anachronism nowadays. It's only good for feasting, and who does that anymore? Except when a Trump gets elected President . . .

The Stock Market and Donald Trump

Investors embraced the election of Donald Trump as president, snapping up stocks and selling bonds in a bet that the Republican’s plans for fiscal stimulus would succeed in breaking the U.S. out of a postcrisis economic funk.

from the Wall Street Journal

It seems that investors no longer

think of him as a fishmonger.

With Donny in charge

stock margins are large;

the market gets stronger and stronger! 

My green thumb

My thumb has not been very green,
and even a snake plant ain't keen
to undergo care
from me without prayer
(I water my plants with caffeine)

Restaurant Review: Mi Lindo Guadalajara. Provo, Utah.

I had great hopes for this restaurant, because I have some very happy memories of performing in Guadalajara with the Payasos Educados pantomime troupe forty-three years ago. We performed our silent program at the Opera House and got a standing ovation for both shows. The newspapers compared me to both Harpo Marx and Stan Laurel. We were preparing to take the troupe on an around-the-world tour. Good times . . .

The place is cater-corner from the Provo Rec Center, so I stopped by after my swim session at 10 this morning.  I immediately liked what I saw of their fresh salsa and toppings bar:

But when I started to speak English to the senora behind the counter she looked at me like I was a boil with legs. Nobody in the place could or would speak to me in English. So I pointed at some things that looked good.

What I got was three plain tamales and a skimpy serving of refried beans:

The tamales were fresh made and slightly sweet. The refried beans were pretty soupy. That, along with a fountain drink, set me back $8.99.

I'm giving this place One Burp. And that's just for the sake of the salsa and toppings bar, which is outstanding. It is not a Gringo-friendly place. I imagine if you speak Spanish you can get a decent meal. But all I got was indigestion. I left exactly one dollar for a tip.


Evitar este lugar como un perro rabioso.

Judgment is a burden

"We sometimes forget that when He gave the counsel to be as He is, it was in the context of how to judge righteously."    Lynn G. Robbins. 


Judgment is a burden I would rather not convey
on my jaded shoulders for another weary day;
not to judge with hatred, spite, or rigid dogma cast
is near beyond my power as I think about the past.
When I lay my burdens down at thy feet, Lord of Hosts,
I pray my judgments ill will disappear like airy ghosts.
And if I must pass judgment to a large or small degree,
please help me do it in a manner pleasing unto thee!