Parry Lodge

I kind of imagine driving around in a magic RV (easy to park, exceptional gas milage), following the whims of the magic location picker—this time, a town I’d never heard of, Kanab, Utah, and a place called Parry Lodge, which is still open. The 1950 guidebook shows a not-useful illustration (looks like a house, with trees), and at that time it was closed from December 1^st to April 15^th. A lot of places used to totally shut down in the winter—maybe the economics were such that the owners could head to southern regions for several months off. You’d imagine that each closed-down property might require a winter caretaker—which would have been the perfect job for me—solitude, lots of time to write, and naturally I would be trusted not to break into the liquor storage and have a chat with the ghost bartender! I suppose most places can stay open, now, due to industrial snow removal, milder winters, increased popularity of tobogganing, and the necessity to keep the dollars rolling in. Parry Lodge looks to be very well-preserved, like an old timewarp motel. I’d probably like it, and it’s enticing kidney-shaped pool. If you like rock formations and Western souvenirs, this is your spot. There is perhaps less than universal acceptance of non-heterosexual people, and even a history of bans on singles, swingers, bikinis, and Speedos—so maybe that pool isn’t so enticing. But still, worth a stop for the charming-looking coffee shop and a stack o’ wheatcakes.

Exactly the same temp (25 degrees) in Kanab as Milwaukee today. I’m about to make oatmeal and a second cup of coffee. We had some terrific snow, but I was disappointed in being unable to frolic (i.e., go for a walk) in it, due to being sick. Not too sick, fortunately, because I’ve used this weekend to tackle the big decision about starting the (self) publishing process for my new novel, which is titled: Around Desire. The decision is only hard because of: “Can I afford it.” I haven’t chosen the cheapest self-publishing options, but the ones that (hopefully) allow me to stay (relatively) sane and move on as quickly as possible to the next thing I’m writing. This book might be it, the last I can afford. It looks like, at this point, my finished writing might exceed my ability to make it available (at least in printed form). But I suppose that’s better than the other way around—sitting here typing endless pages with nothing but “All work no play…” and bouncing a tennis ball off the wall.

I do need to start a new soap today, which is always fun. One I haven’t tried. I don’t know why I started writing soap reviews—I think it was in order to find “my favorite” and then stick with that, like a normal person. But I then found that it was too much fun to keep trying new ones. There’s more soap out there than you might think. Today I’m trying a Mexican Camay “Botanicals”—inexpensive, at the Cermak grocery—it looks like a glycerin soap. I’m curious what my early soap reviews were like, and they’re now kind of buried, so I’ll repost some of them here, starting today with Number 1, from 25 June 2017—a brand optimistically called “Fresh Splash”—from LUX.

Soap Review No. 1

LUX – Fresh Splash – “Well-Dressed Man”

My first attempt at writing about soap sounds more like ad copy than a review, but it's pretty funny, I think, so I'll include it here: “Tired of smelling like the beauty aisle at Whole Foods? I have taken to buying soap from my neighborhood Indian restaurant, as they carry many beguiling brands. My recent favorite is LUX “Fresh Splash” which makes my bathroom smell like there is a well-dressed man of indefinite foreign origin hiding in there. Am I in danger? Only in danger of smelling good!”

The bar is a deep blue green, kind of shiny, almost metallic, with LUX engraved. I like the name because it reminds me of Lux Interior, my favorite-ever rock star. The packaging includes a drawing of a beautiful woman, the LUX logo in gold, and it says: “With Cooling Mint & Sea Minerals”—though it doesn't strike me as particularly minty or fishy. (The ingredients do include Sea Salt and Mentha Piperita Leaf Extract.) The overall scent evokes masculinity to me, so maybe the woman on the packaging is who you're supposed to attract.

On the side of the package it says: “Be a breath of fresh air.” Which is nice. And Gold Ring Offer** with two stars, indicating that it's explained somewhere, I guess, but where? The ingredient list is long, in small print, and kind of scary, including some that are just letters and numbers, and some very chemical-y, way too long to type, and also some very cool sounding flower and plant names like, Camellia Sinensis Leaf Extract, and Avena Sativa Straw Extract—there's a lot of plant stuff, actually. But then some scary things like Tin Dioxide and Titanium Dioxide. And then, in even smaller print I see the explanation of the two stars: **“May contain a small gold ring. Be careful while using the soap. Don't wash the gold ring away. Offer valid till stocks last.” What? You mean there might actually be a gold ring concealed inside my soap? I wish I'd seen this earlier—I may have already washed the gold ring away!

Update: It has been some time since I finished this bar of soap, and I never did find the gold ring. But just recently my bathtub drain clogged, which has never happened before (causing it to flood the apartment below!) I couldn't help wondering if the reason for this was the gold ring I accidentally washed down the drain?!

I confess,

Randy