“Deep down, he wants to be madonna”

First of all, we went back to Mikey’s restaurant for brek this morning. We ate there yesterday morning but I ate light because I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish a whole omelet plus “taters” and an English muffin. Big breakfasts do not sit well with me in general and especially not when I am hiking. I will take a box but yesterday, that box would’ve had to sit in the Frog Hopper wherever we parked it up in the beautiful Jordan River Valley. We went back to Mikey’s today and we both took half of our breakfast home in boxes.

Mikey’s is a great restaurant and it has taken over the old Houghton Lake Big Boy restaurant. We ran into one of its owners and her friend when we were hiking at Tahq back in September and picked up beer for them. My main memory of the HL Big Boy restaurant is going there at a late stage of pregnancy with my [beloved] in-laws. Except that they wanted the frog legs and the frog legs didn’t look like the pic. I was terribly embarrassed when they complained to the waitress even though they were correct in complaining. But frog legs at the Big Boy? Or anywhere. Not… Anyway, Mikey’s is good but we certainly won’t abandon Little Boots and those loverly Gunslinger Quesadillas. We hope that both restaurants keep going strong.

And then there was the long slog down south. We were hauling a trailer, albeit a small one with one kayak on it, but I bagged driving because trailer and we took the “old” road (M13) rather than the I75 SUV Speedway, joining up with I75 after skirting the darkest depths of Mordor. Maybe we should have stopped for tea and crumpets? Or not. Snort.

I have been reading (or at least looking at the cartoons and reading the short stories) the New Yorker since I was a 20-something or maybe even before that. Radical Betty always subscribed to it and I read it at her house. When I finally approached something like adulthood, I subscribed to the New Yorker myself. For a while I read it pretty much cover to cover.

Life got crazy. Kids grew up and moved away and I went back to college and fell backwards into a career. New Yorker? The dead tree version stacked up and I had to vacuum around it. I’ve been through various iterations of the on-line mag. What turns out to work the best for me is getting regular emails that link me to web or phone friendly stories. I read a number of those stories today sitting in the Frog Hopper on the way home. One of those links led me to this 1997 profile of Donald Trump. It’s a long read (and it may not be available to anyone who doesn’t have a subscription). I am guessing I probably read it back in 1997 but can’t say that I remember doing that. I have never been terribly interested in celebrities of any sort though and who knew, in 1997, that this person would one day be elected president? Jeebus.

Is the New Yorker a reliable source of news and information? It isn’t exactly a newspaper. But it is a long-time source of literature and commentary about current events. I remain concerned about the lack of reliable properly vetted information that we, as voters, have received throughout the recent election cycle. I believe we are in the middle of a change in how news is delivered. Here’s another New Yorker article that focuses on that issue. I have to admit that I didn’t totally understand everything in that article (at least upon an initial read) but, in a small way, me and my iPhone are part of the next wave of journalism. I am rarely in a place where I get a chance to document something political but, if I ever am, I will have my phone open to photo/video whatever is going on. And post it along with my commentary (correct or not) wherever I want to post it. Can we, as adults (educated or not) sort all of this information out. Can we figure out how to educate our children to do the same? Hmmm?

Love y’all, KW

One Response to ““Deep down, he wants to be madonna””

  1. Margaret Says:

    I’m terrified about how we’re going to get “news” and wondering if I’ll be able to trust anything I read/hear. 🙁