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 1st to April 15th. 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 (rendered on their website, though I don’t see on the menu?).

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.

The recipe in the guidebook is for “Pot Roast”—which I’ve never made—seems like something could go horribly wrong. It calls for a “5-pound beef roast” which seems unimaginable. Recently, I’ve replaced eggs with tofu. I guess I’m gearing up for the Soylent Green era, coming soon. The recipe says to serve the Pot Roast with “noodles or pineapple fritters.” You can’t do both? And… pineapple fritters? Canned pineapple must have been a big hit around 1950. I mean, it sounds good—I just never would have thought that was a traditional accompaniment to pot roast. How about potatoes? That’s why I like checking out these old recipes.

—Randy Russell 2.16.24