Kitty Pappas neon, Bountiful, Utah
Kitty Pappas is one of the last old-time steak houses on northern U.S. 89 in Utah. I've eaten there, about a year ago, with my good friend Sharon, who is having surgery and is in my thoughts a lot today.
Also on my mind: Robert Plant and Alison Krause, Raising Sand, heard it? Get over to ITunes, I'll wait. If the songs weren't so sad, I'd be playing them all the time instead of Virgin Radio. Somehow, we don't exceed our bandwidth limits.
It warmed up today, above 40deg F, which put my outdoor refrigerator out of commission. In a moment of desperation before a Christmas party for 75 at the palace some years ago, I realized that 40 degrees outdoors was the same as in the electrified-at-my-expense, space-limited whitewear in my kitchen. The porch makes a fine pre-chiller for a case of room temp soda, just don't forget it and let it freeze.
The outdoor kitchen was nearly complete on Monday, when the gutter guys took their lunch break. They got their microwave oven out of the truck, set it up on the landing, and cooked themselves some hot lunch. Better than sandwiches, they told me. One of them even brought a can-opener. I'm good with it, because it rained last night, and we have no more puddles on the porch. If this project doesn't finish soon, we might need to provide the guys with a sink.
