Recently my camera and I took a week-long trip to southern Idaho to visit the western division of the Strong family; I returned with plenty of photographs … and a much greater appreciation for trees.  If you haven’t already read them, you can see the previous day’s adventures here.

I hear Montana’s eyes follow you around Idaho

Nanny and I decided Wednesday would be the perfect morning for an important bit of sightseeing: a visit to a local coffeeshop in the old downtown of Mountain Home.  The old downtown seems to be Mountain Home’s version of the town of Radiator Springs: it used to be The Place To Be, but then the interstate put down roots a couple miles away and a busier commercial strip sprouted closer to the highway; as a result, the old downtown doesn’t see much foot traffic.  This scene has played out time and time again in towns that have had highways built nearby, and it’s always sad to see the death — or, I suppose, the transportationally-induced coma — of a downtown.

Anyway, when we arrived downtown, we found ourselves walking into a place called Moxie Java.  It had two crucially important elements of a good coffeshop: tasty coffee and free wireless internet (hint hint Starbucks, free is okay sometimes).  After we enjoyed the coffee (and the internet, thanks to my iPod), we took advantage of Moxie Java’s location to take a brief walk and get a few pictures of the old downtown.  One of those pictures featured a set of road signs giving all kinds of directions:

This picture is worth exploring for an important reason: it features an Idaho state road sign at the bottom left of the group.  Why is that notable, you ask?  Because of what it reveals about Montana, I answer!  Look closely at the sign and you’ll see what Granny noticed right away: the profile of a face looking at Idaho.  Yes, that’s right: Montana spends its days staring at Idaho.  Why?  I don’t know; maybe it likes potatoes.  Or blue turf.  But whatever the reason, I’m surprised Idaho hasn’t gotten a restraining order against Montana.  I mean, seriously … that’s kind of creepy.  Couldn’t Montana look at Wyoming for a while?  Or the Dakota Twins?  Or Canada?

Not enough altitude so I make big

After lunch, we explored the Mountain Home area a bit more; as we drove through the countryside around the city, we were again confronted with the stark beauty of the southern Idaho landscape.

As you can see, that landscape features a great deal of open space and scrub brush and OH MY GOODNESS THERE’S A GORGEOUS MOUNTAIN OVER THERE IT’S SO BIG AND SO NOT FLAT and the occasional house and pretty much nothing else.  Is that an accurate description?  I think so.

How many toddlers per gallon do you get?

During our exploration, we happened upon a most curious use of a building built for a very, very different purpose:

Sadly, they didn’t have their rates posted on a tall sign out front.  But if they had been posted, they probably would have ended in 9/10 of a cent.  Also, I bet they’d try to sell you a discounted bath with every full day of child care.

What are you dune up there?

Later in the afternoon Erin packaged up the kids and we all headed southeast out of town.  We drove for about 20 minutes through the same Idaho landscape pictured earlier in the post and in the day 1 post (but without the mountain because we were headed in the other direction); at some point we crossed a river and turned left, and shortly after the river we made a right turn into a state park.  The main feature of that state park — a sand dune — was a familiar sight for those of us who have spent time on Michigan’s wonderful west coast.

Since the park’s name is Bruneau Dunes State Park, the gigantic sand dune made sense; however, after gazing at mile after mile of land that was either flat and open or mountainous and open but was all decidedly not sandy or duney, the gigantic sand dune was a little bit unexpected.  But the dune was still impressive, and the clear blue sky only made it even better for pictures.  And as we all know, when something is better for pictures, it’s just plain better.

The purpose for our trip to the dune might sound a little strange: we were there to go sledding.  Yes, I am aware there was no snow on the dune.  Yes, I am aware most people sled on snow.  Yes, I am aware sled sounds like it could be a valid past-tense of slide.  But Justin and Erin had taken the kids sledding on the dunes once before, and sledding on dunes isn’t just for snowy days: it can be a year-round activity.

Unfortunately, instead of sliding down the dune, the sleds seemed determined to sink into the sand, so the sledding didn’t work out too well this time.  But we still had fun climbing the dune and enjoying the view.

After we were done climbing, the kids enjoyed playing on and around the dune; Elisha seemed determined to transfer the entire dune to one of the sleds, though I’m not sure what he intended to do with it after the transfer was complete.

As the kids played, I took some time to photograph more of the scenery because … well, that’s what I do.  I mean, I thought that was obvious already.  Anyway, there was plenty to photograph, a fact whose factiness I’ll demonstrate with even more pictures to go with the seventillion hundred I’ve already shown.

Those of you who had a proper 1980s childhood will remember the classic Indian in the Cupboard books in which a boy named Omri discovers that a cupboard and one special key can make his small plastic toys come to life — first and most notably a small plastic Indian named Little Bear.  There are plenty of crazy adventures that sprout from this discovery, but the craziest of them all happens when Omri discovers burglars breaking into his house and brings to life a number of tiny Marines to fight them off.  Of course, the burglars are thoroughly nonplussed when they encounter an unexpected hail of tiny bullets — you’d freak out, too! — and they leave empty-handed.

I bring this up because it happened to be a very windy day when we visited the dune, and every gust of wind brought with it a volley of sand that reminded me of that particular adventure.  Sand is just a bunch of tiny little rocks that sting when they hit exposed skin, and the feeling of the sand hitting my skin brought back that one particular part of a book I hadn’t thought about in years.

Sand does something else when it’s flying through the air: it gets everywhere.  My camera didn’t suffer any real damage, but sand did get into the buttons on the back — something I realized when, on the ride back, I pressed the review button to look through my pictures … and the button stayed down for about thirty seconds before returning to normal.  Still, I think my camera got off easier than I did; I was chewing on sand the rest of the day, and when I reached up to scratch an itch on my head later that evening, I discovered sand embedded in my hair.  I don’t know for sure, but I think if you check my DNA, you might find sand from Idaho mixed in with all the usual information.  (Figure that one out, Horatio Caine!)

Come back soon for the next installment of the Famous Potato Diaries, which will feature Mitch Hedberg.  Well, okay, not Mitch Hedberg himself, but a hilarious piece of his hilariously hilarious comedy.  Did I mention his comedy is funny?  Good, because it’s not funny: it’s hilarious.

Recently my camera and I took a week-long trip to southern Idaho to visit the western division of the Strong family; I returned with plenty of photographs … and a much greater appreciation for trees.  If you haven’t already read them, you can see the previous day’s adventures here.

I know I was there, but all I remember is food and a football game

I won’t expend too many words about Sunday, partly because I didn’t take a single picture the entire day and partly because I was only partially joking about actually waking up sometime Monday morning.  We went to church, we spent much of the day around the house, I took a nap because I simply wasn’t capable of staying awake in the afternoon, and we consumed fantastic snacks while we watched the Super Bowl.  So I can’t say much about Idaho on Sunday, but I can say a lot about the value of a good nap … and even more about the value of never intentionally waking up at 3:45 in the morning.  Ever.

Where an adult can be a kid

We were ready to see the sights after that quiet Sunday, so Monday morning we all headed out to Boise.  First on the docket was a diversion for the three kids, that most wonderful place where a rat isn’t a pest, but instead is a friendly mascot: Chuck E. Cheese.  And boy, did the kids ever enjoy playing the games:

Uh … no, really, the kids had a great time:

Well, I thought the kids enjoyed it:

Ah, there we go.  I knew I wasn’t imagining that.

BTGOC: Big Tour Group On Campus

After an outstanding lunch at the Cheesecake Factory — I recommend the orange chicken — Erin and the kids headed back to Mountain Home, while Justin joined the three of us for further exploration of Boise.  We wanted to see the Boise State University campus, and there just so happened to be a tour starting at just the right time, so we joined the group.  Our tour guide turned out to be Keegan, a current BSU student who will be going into special education.

Keegan is an Irish name meaning “descendant of the fiery one”; while he didn’t seem particularly fiery, he also wasn’t afraid to bring the sarcastic humor.  The other people in the group — a prospective student and his parents — didn’t seem impressed with his humor, but I certainly enjoyed it.

BSU has a very pleasant campus along the Boise river near downtown.  Unlike Michigan’s sprawling footprint, BSU’s campus is fairly compressed for a school serving over 19,000 students; from one end of campus to the other, everything is easily within walking distance.  And if you can’t get enough exercise walking from the residence halls to the classroom buildings, you can keep walking (or biking): the campus is the midpoint of a beautiful 25-mile paved trail following the Boise River.

I was struck by one attribute of the campus: the relative youth and architectural modesty of the buildings.  I’m used to universities like Michigan and Notre Dame, schools with long histories and stunning historic buildings; BSU was founded in 1932 and moved to its present location in 1940, which is when the oldest building on campus — the administration building — was built.

The campus does include one exceptionally creative bit of architecture: when viewed from above, the Morris Center for the Performing Arts is shaped like the state of Idaho.

La la la-la la la, la la-la la touchdown

College football fans across the nation know BSU not just for its last-second bowl victory over Oklahoma, but also for its unique blue football field, commonly known as the Smurf Turf.  BSU is proud of its one-of-a-kind turf, so it came as no surprise to us that the campus tour included the football stadium; what made it even better was that instead of just showing off the famous turf from afar, the university was more than happy to let us walk on the field.  I always wondered if the Smurf Turf was as bright as it looked on tv, and now, having had firsthand experience with it, I can say for certain: it’s crazy bright.  It’s not just blue; it’s BLUE!!!

See?!  I really was there!  I’m not making this up!

I spend my fair share of time around football fields, but real or artificial, those fields are always green; it’s a little bit surreal — and, at first, even slightly disorienting — to walk onto a football field without a single hint of green in sight.  I’m sure I’d get used to it, but the initial sensation is strange, to say the least.

While we were in the stadium, Keegan passed along a most interesting tidbit: student tickets for football games are free.  I’m used to that sort of policy from schools where football isn’t much of an attraction — cough cough Eastern Michigan cough — but football is big at BSU, so the free student ticket policy was a little surprising to me.  Of course, I’m used to Michigan, where nothing about revenue sports is even close to free, so that probably explains my surprise.

When they say champions of the west, they really mean west

To get to the football field, we walked through a small athletic hall of fame; when we were on our way out of the stadium, we were stopped short by the thoroughly unexpected sight of very familiar uniforms:

That picture shows BSU playing Michigan in the 1988 NCAA basketball tournament, a game Michigan won, 63-58.  I would say that reminds me of the good old days of Michigan basketball, but I was six when that game was played, and I wasn’t paying much attention to Michigan basketball at that point.  For me there aren’t really good old days of Michigan basketball; there is only the death and destruction of the Chris Webber scandal and the limitless hopelessness of the Brian Ellerbe era.  Apparently I was born a little too late.  Beilein, take me away!

Come back soon for the next installment of the Famous Potato Diaries, which will feature dogs that prefer not to wear seatbelts.