The Ouch Is Pretty Much Gone

I followed the dentist's instructions about soft foods, cold foods, hot foods, etc. I'm really all over it. I took some painkiller on Monday night, and I've been using ibuprofen ever since. Pain does not appear to be a problem. I've been brushing my teeth gingerly, but I can tell that in a day or two, it will be back to business as usual, and yesterday I chewed steak! I'm greatly relieved and hope that I don't run into any complications. My mouth is still getting used to it, and my tongue is playing with the new black hole. I hope the novelty wears off soon.

Ouch!

Friday night after the previously mentioned class one of my upper molars began to disintegrate. The upside is that I can eat soft foods like ice cream and tapioca pudding. I had some seafood salad on Friday evening that had grated carrots in it. Now, I have a thing about carrots anyway, but grated carrots getting stuck in a cracked tooth, it didn't improve my opinion of carrots one bit.

Missing, but not forgotten

Saturday, I had two poached eggs in milk over toast. Not bad except that the only toast I had was cinnamon toast. It made the eggs taste very weird, and the hot sauce probably didn't help it either. Dinner was crab chowder (no uncomfortable bits of carrot) and a milkshake. Ice cream for dessert.

Sunday I was back to the eggs, but I had them on cornbread. And that's all I ate over the weekend. No barbeques. No beer. No nothing. Happily, I didn't have much of an appetite. I called my dentist on Sunday. He didn't want an emergency patient, but did allow as much that I should see him at my earliest opportunity today.

I showed up in his office at 8:15 a.m. He pulled about a third of the tootth that had cracked off, but was still connected to the gum. He called his fave oral surgeon, but the guy was out of the office for the day. He called another, and set up an appointment for 2 p.m.

So 2 p.m. rolls around. New oral surgeon, new insurance forms to fill out. At 2:07, the nurse takes me back and takes my blood pressure. The doctor walks in at 2:15 to give me some anesthetic. He begins the procedure at 2:23. It lasts seventeen minutes, but a very long seventeen minutes. He apologizes for the pain, but his voice is affectless, like he says this to every patient, every day.

But the guy is really hot. I mean he has biceps and a chest. This guy works out! When he cradles my head in his arms so he can wrench my tooth, my head is in the living vise of a body builder. I'm thinking, if I'm going to have an awful experience, at least I'm having it with him! Sometimes, it really pays to be a homo.

I'm out of his office at 2:47 p.m. looking like a chipmunk for all of the packing he put in the hole in my jaw (this is turning out gayer than I expected...). At 3:17, I head for Baskin and Robbins for some ice cream. I've earned it.

Touchy-Feely

I was in a class to teach better interpersonal skills when you're basically being stressed out - how to keep communication open when the conversation has contention. The class was a pretty arduous two-day course. After the first day, I thought it was interesting in the Chinese sense. After the second day, I thought it had real value, but we covered so much material, that it should have been a three-day class.

Upfront: these kinds of personal development classes give me the willies. But the company expects you to enroll and attend. And the company pays for them. That's what autonomy is all about. I don't like PD courses at all. I feel very uncomfortable, kind of like running my fingernails across a chalkboard, then pulling out my fingernails, that kind of uncomfortable. But I wanted to give this course by best try. I'm glad I did. It was very worthwhile. Of course, had it actually been a three-day course, I might not have made it through the third day.

So this morning, I had a conversation in contention with Ron. I tried to model and practice some of the behaviors explained in the course. It was a humbling experience. It is so difficult for me to listen to others. It is so difficult for me to insist that others listen to me. It is hard to be honest. It is hard to talk to the heart of the person you love. I know why we've been together for so long - he's respectful, he's open, he's honest. I can't imagine my life without him.

The conversation was about a part of our lives that was deeply dissatisfying to me, but I just couldn't bring it up. This had been eating at me for years. So today we talked. He opens my mind and my heart. We don't have difficult conversations very often. I don't know why I'm afraid of them. I'm very happy we talked.

Summer Movie Reviews, cont'd

So I spent four hours in the movies this weekend. Reynaldo and I went to see Superman Returns and The Devil Wears Prada. They are both good summer movies, but they both need editing. For all of you starstruck girls and horny gay men, Superman is super hot when he doesn't have his super t-shirt on. Those two seconds may make you happy that you went to see this film. The plot takes lameness to new heights (literally), but Superman and Lois, and Lois's husband fill the screen very nicely.

The kid is painful to look at. The film could have done a little more with the Billy Mumy moment. You'll know it when you see it. So at last, it seems that Super and Lois had been getting it on, after which Superman became a deadbeat dad for the next five years, only to reappear, and want a place in his son's life. Quite an example for unmarried couples having sex everywhere.

Onto the tiger. Let's face it, Meryl Streep is a great reason to love the Devil. In this movie, the Devil plays Meryl Streep, and does a super, bang-up job. I recommend this film, particularly to fashionistas and gay men everywhere. Stanley Tucci, you are so cute in this film! Where did you get that ring? I get the giggles just thinking about it. Emily Blunt fabulously plays the first assistant. Her performance collides with destiny, but she ends up with the best clothes. Anne Hathaway, I didn't buy it for a moment! Love the heels, but the little painter's cap looked pretty awful. Go see this movie, especially if it's a matinee. Don't take your boyfriend unless he's gay.

What Would Happen if Peace Should Accidentally Break Out?

War has no victory, no honor, no truth. It is a failure of reason, conscience, and respect. It's a failure of our humaneness and our humanity. War is our shame as a species, and death, and tears, and hate, and always more war.

Peace is a dove. War is a thunderbolt. We can't afford anymore thunderbolts.

It's Been a While, But I'm Back

I had a wonderful vacation in California. I think this is the first time I've been in California when I've really felt impressed by it. Yeah, I can understand why people might want to live there. Growing up in Idaho, I think I was innoculated with, "Don't Californicate Idaho!"

After the dust settled on square dancing, I set out with Clark on a road trip from Hollywood to Carmel. Well, we actually started in Anaheim and ended in Woodland outside Sacramento, and his name really isn't Clark, either. He plays the part, very well, though. You get the big idea: PCH, big truck, Big Sur, good times.

Evening on the Beach at Carmel

We stayed a couple of nights in Cambria and a night in Carmel. Sunday morning, I left Sacramento International on the Big Plane heading back to Dulles International. I've been to northern California; I've been to Southern California; I've driven through the middle of California, but never have I experienced such a beauty as Route 1. The Central Coast begs for adjectives that I'm just incapable of expressing. The wind, the fog, the forest ending in grassland, and the hills overhead, the road clinging to the side of the mountains - I had not seen anything quite like it.

I want to go on some more road trips where I have no destination. I can walk a trail or on the beach. I can stop for a view or meal. I don't have to look at my watch. I only have to drink in the moment around me. I'm not sure that the experience would be the same in Death Valley or in North Dakota, but I'd like to take a road trip to find out. The joy, too, was the companionship in the cab of the truck, the telling of stories, the sharing of the moment. I had such a fabulous vacation - I am so gay!

California Twirl, Dude!

Why I Love Gay Square Dance Conventions

Perhaps most obviously, they are gay, duh.... This particular convention has been an absolute hoot. In addition to the square dancers, the hotel is hosting hundreds of Anime Expo convention goers. These people out dress us! It's a very interesting mix. And tomorrow a conservative Christian group arrives. The hotel staff can hardly contain themselves; they are so excited about the mix. So are we. It's really notched up our planning for the Fantasy Ball.

Tonight has two big events - the leather tip and the honky tonk queen contest. I quit going to th HTQC several years ago, because it's impossible to get a good seat, but it is one of the most popular events. Pretty dramatic, most years. I attended the leather tip, and just about killed myself with my stripper boots, which have 3" stiletto heels. I'm not cut out to be a stripper. The anime girls LOVED the boots. One said, "I would die for those boots." That is very high praise. I wore them for a couple of tips, then I had to take them off. They are evil, but classy.

I actually did several hours of Advanced dancing today, too. My leg has been bothering me, but when it comes to dancing, you really have to choose your priorities - health or dancing. Dancing wins every time.

Observations at Breakfast

A unique combination of costume and camaraderie come together at breakfast in resort hotels. This morning, I saw square dancers (most of us were slumming it), corporate lackeys in business drag, families (who were not slumming it), some firefighters (they should become gay square dancers), and the staff who were unfailingly polite and oh so present throughout the meal. I hear snatches of conversation. The business woman patiently explains to her patient waiter why she can only drink skim milk. The fire fighters talk and laugh loudly, their smiles radiating throughout the dining room. I'm reading about Joe Lieberman's race in Connecticut, but am gladly distracted by the ambiance.

I don't have a thing to do for hours. I'm not rushing this first meal of the day. I nod to some other square dancers, and Miguel ultimately brings me my check with the cryptic comment, "This is for your convenience." Hmmmm. Probably not. But I don't say anything.

And that's how I end up fat and happy. One breakfast quesadilla down, two meals to go. I'm going to need some weight loss therapy before this is all over.

Reporting in from Disneyland - the Mouse's Brand

So here I am at the Disneyland Marriott, well Walt would never call it that, but the rest of the world would. I got in here about three hours ago. Our rooms weren't ready so I joined up with a couple of other DC Lambda Squares dancers, and we walked down Mickey's Main Street. It's a big deal, 50 years and counting.

We stopped in at a Disney store, merchandise central. It's full of delightful schlock of questionable quality and very high prices. I know, I shouldn't be surprised. This is the store that people go to, to buy gifts for Uncle Bill and Cousin Milly. The stuff is so tacky and weird that you actually have to ask the friendly mouse associates what some of the stuff is. Very strange, and most of it is made in China. It has a foreign edge to it, as in Alien or Predator.

We were out in the sun too much, and I got a little burned. I'm in my room now recovering from my consumerist experience. I bought a mini-Minnie backpack. It's cute, and it goes with my Goofy hat. It brings on a creepily innocent moment when you realize you're closer on the mark than you thought. I suppose I could get into a mouse fetish.

Full Circle, Michael Thomas Ford

I've been reading Full Circle, Ford's new book. I think it's better than his two previous novels. It's not great literature, but it's good summer reading. Ford is a good storyteller, and some of the sex is pretty hot. What I don't like about this novel, though, is that the protagonist is a whiner. He's perpetually (at least through the first 325 pages) in search of himself, holding himself up to personal scrutiny, then doing dumb things.

The book is best in giving a personal story of Vietnam. The novel is at its worst examining the main character's relationships. He's always wondering why things turn out bad, well, he's basically a clueless jerk when it comes to the people that he loves. He's figured that out pretty much by this time in the book; he just doesn't know what to do about it.

The book also has a lot of convenient name dropping. Coincidence plays a huge part of the story, too. Part of my head mutters, "Totally unbelievable." The other part points out that the story wouldn't go anywhere if blind, unbelievable coincidence didn't play a part. And, well, it's his novel, so what the hell?

So, I think I'll go and finish it this afternoon.

Rocky Mountains, Yeah!

The conference ended at noon. So after lunch, I rented a car and headed up for Estes Park to see some mountains, and to visit my brother, Steve.

US 36 winds up from Broomfield into the mountains. The road between here and Boulder is a freeway, but it quickly becomes a windy, two-lane highway. The university is on the east side of Boulder, and has what I think are some high-rise dormitories. Their architecture fits right in with the landscape - some interesting buildings from the freeway. Many stoplights later, I had navigated through Boulder, and on the west side of town I picked up two hitchikers who were on their way to the Rainbow Gathering near Steamboat Springs. They were two very friendly characters, and a little strange, with perhaps a few neurons misfiring. The older guy wanted to leave Boulder, because the woman he had been seeing realized that he wasn't Mr. Right. He spent the winters in Arizona, and the summers traveling around the country. The younger guy was from Minnesota and was preparing for about a month at the gathering. Very interesting folk. I dropped them off at the edge of Estes Park.

With advanced cell phone technology, I called Steve and he guided me to Aspen Avenue, and his home. I talked with him and his wife for a bit then he and I headed for a walk around town, some ice cream and coffee, and a visit to a couple of galleries. On the way we encountered a cow elk that had just given birth. The sidewalk was blocked off, but the cow certainly was quite able to defend her territory and her calf from any pedestrians. She bullied all comers.

Then we were attacked by the happiest dog in the world. This pooch was in a penned off shady backyard. He would take a ball and drop it on the sidewalk, clearly training all passing pedestrians to pick the ball up, then toss it back in the yard. This dog was so full of joy! Wiggly, happy, bursting with enthusiasm. So for about 10 minutes we engaged in a deep dialogue with fido (a German shorthair in extremely good athletic condition), throwing the ball into bushes, trees, benches, and he would retrieve the ball, run to the fence, and drop it at our feet outside the fence. We learned a lot about dog slobber, happiness, and catch. It was a moment of pure delight in the late afternoon in Estes Park. What a perfect metaphor for a perfect life well-lived.

The gallery we went to had some wonderful sculptures and paintings, a little pricey for my pocket book, which was fine with me, and probably a relief for Ron. I don't suppose he'd like a $1250 work of art in the living room. After the gallery, we drove up to Lily Lake and the St. Marys lodge.

We ended up eating dinner at a very nice Mexican restaurant. I thoroughly enjoyed vising Steve and Lesley. I don't get to see them very often. Steve and I have very different views of the world. Sometimes, I feel it gets in the way of our love for each other. I miss the closeness that we once had, but I love him dearly and want him and Lesley to have a wonderful life. I want him to know that I care for him and wish for him the blessings of an abundant life in his faith.

After dinner, I spent a while showing him my pictures of the Glacier trip that Ron and I took. Just going over the pictures with him brings back the trip to me. I told him that the family was planning a similar trip for Yellowstone two years from now. I hope he and Lesley can join the rest of us. I'm going to do what I can to get them there.

Then I came back to the hotel, had a beer, and wrote this.

Storytelling at the Company

John C. Thomas from IBM gave us the inside dope on corporate storytelling for usability, although he probably wouldn't call it that. He had a compelling story in his presentation about the Walking People. In the Iroquois life, storytelling was key to survival.

Throughout this conference the recurring theme of my conversations with other people is the notion of self/personal identity, and public interface/normative expectations. I believe the latter gets in the way of the former. We tamp down the passion, the pain, the joy, the hate, the lust because we want to be loved. We want to fit in. I judge myself in terms of how I think other people are judging me. Maybe no one is judging me. Maybe nobody really cares, except what I may be thinking about them.

Of course, I may be wrong, and is it a story if nobody listens?

Presentation and Identity

I've had two very interesting conversations here at the conference over the last couple of days. Last night at the opening reception, I talked with one of the presenters from the tutorial that I had taken earlier in the day. In the tutorial, he asked how many of us had blogs. I think four of us raised our hands. Then he asked why did we have blogs.

My answer in the tutorial was kind of half-assed, because I don't think that well on my feet. But at the reception, he asked me if he could read my blogs, and I told him okay. I told him that it was very difficult for me to tell him where to find them, because it was (at once, so public) so personal. Funny thing about that.

Then I went into my "All of us think we are normal" talk, and ended with it's our public presentation - what the world sees - that's what we construct as normal. What's personal is what's beneath the clothes, makeup, skin. And it's anything but normal. It's a cauldron of attitude, fear, shame, passion, guilt, in short the very motivation for the presentation. It's our public presentation that people love, and it so unnerves us, because what's underneath that presentation, that which no one knows or sees, is what we really our, and it scares us to death.

So, the speaker in today's last session is a professional storyteller, and she spoke about storytelling, primarily as it affects the imaginations of children, and how it should be part of the public school curriculum. Afterwards, I went up and talked with her about storytelling, and I connected it with my blogging experience. It's here, right here reader, right on this blog where you can read it, that I feel vulnerable, raw, disoriented, and fearful. It's the very same place from which storytellers tell their stories. The honest storyteller is compelling because the tale is one that touches the heart, and finally enlivens the soul. I write my blog because it turns me from a technogeek into a very human geek.

Tidbits I've Heard

If the toolbox metaphor didn't exist, would we create it and put it in our toolboxes?

Users consider tasks to be obstacles in the way of achieving their goals.

This Week, Colorado

I'm hanging out at the Omni Interlocken just outside of Denver. I'm at a conference of the Usability Professionals Association (UPA). This is my third or fourth time. I like this conference because it's all about results. The people who attend are mostly practioners, and usually young ones, at that. I feel like an old man. The only people my age are some of the presenters or consultant predators looking for lucrative engagements. I'm also a bit out of step, because many of these folks come from usability shops, and I come from the business product side of the house.

I like the questioning, the sharing of ideas, the sets of usability methods that people are talking about. It's a good way to checkpoint my own practices, which because of circumstance, often are not the best. Some of these people practice state-of-the-art usability, and I practice seat-of-my-pants. But we're all trying to do the same thing - create a better experience for users. Of course, we hope it increases our business, or web traffic, or what other metric used to measure success.

I talked with a consultant with which my company used to do business. We had an interesting talk, and I'm hoping we can talk again before the end of the conference. He had some interesting perspectives on the progress (regress?) that usability has taken at home. He had a unique view of some decisions made about how to proselitize usability in the company. I think we lost the usability war, but I'm trying to win skirmishes one day at a time. It's been a difficult transition, and usability is hard to manage out of a product group. I think the awareness is in our company's development, QA, and management groups, but no clear vision of how to make it happen.

My brother and I talked last night. He lives in Estes Park, about 45 miles northwest of here. I'm going to rent a car on Friday and drive up there. It's been a year since we've seen each other. We had a long phone conversation last night. I love the guy dearly.

666 - The Omen!

Pattie, Grace, Mom, Katherine, Michael, Happy

You betcha! 666 is an omen all right. Actually, in my life the real omen is 66, a sign of strong family ties and traditions. My grandparents were married on June 6. My parents were married on June 6. My Dad was married on June 6, twice. My stepmom was married on June 6, twice, and her first husband's birthday was on June 6. Seems like a pretty strong thread.

So forget the movie. I called my Mom and told her how fortunate I feel to have had grandparents, parents, and siblings and step siblings for whom family means sticking together in the difficult times, caring for each other, helping out, getting together across town or across the continent. I'm grateful for their love, and I think June 6 is probably our family holiday, or should be.

Sero-Converting 20 Years Later

I read an article in the Washington Post by a journalist who had sero-converted at age 49 - about 20 years after we knew what caused AIDS. The article was somewhat chilling to me, because I am sometimes careless, maybe risky, and don't have all the information needed to make some informed choices about sex.

The journalist never stated how he sero-converted, saying that only negative guys worry about that. Positve guys just want to get on with their lives. I don't have any argument with that except that I want to know, why do gay men sero-convert after 20 years of education, marching in the streets, safe sex campaigns, and watching all of their friends of a certain age die? I want to know the answer because I carry a gray cloud in the back of my head every time I have sex with someone who is not my partner.

Is this guy telling me the truth? Am I telling him the truth? Is he really negative? Am I really negative? How risky is unprotected fellatio? How risky is rimming my best friend? How risky is bareback sex with a positive guy with no detectable viral load? And what does that mean, anyway? I want the guy to tell me how he sero-converted so that I can make my own informed decisions about the sex I have with him. I want the guy to tell me how he sero-converted so that the next time I visit my doctor I don't get told, "You're positive."

I'm angry with myself for doing stupid sexual acts. I'm angry with my partners who don't tell me the whole story. I'm angry with the whole Safer Sex establishment for not providing real and truthful facts about real men having real sex with each other. So we go on spreading the disease, killing each other slowly, all because we don't have good, actionable information from which to decide how to act sexually and how to act responsibly.

May 28

Ron and I are at the airport. It's been quite a vacation, and we've both had a good time. I said goodbye to Grace at the hotel this morning. I sent her off on the hotel shuttle. Then I went back to the room, and Ron and I got ready to come on to the airport. I-90 around Spokane has a lot of construction going on, so it's difficult to get around downtown, because the normal exits are blocked or detoured. I had forgotten how pretty (and how small) Spokane is. When I was a kid, it was such a big city. I guess it's all where you're at. It is the biggest city between Seattle, Boise, Salt Lake, and probably Minneapolis. It's amazing how empty the Intermountain West and the Great Plains are. I noticed that at East Glacier - from that point east, it's a vast plain. We joke about Flyover Land, and there is a lot of truth in the joke, except we fly over incredible beauty, solitude, a taciturn, tough, windblown, and sunburned place in America. And a part of my heart is still here. I still hurt a little every time I fly out of some western town and head back to Washington, the other Washington. I'm not an Idaho Country Farm Boy anymore, if I ever was, but that notion is certainly a part of my myth, and how I create my world. I suspect I'm now the city slicker. I catch my impatience with people, my ironic self. Somewhere in there, though, I hope I can find a boy wearing his shitkickers, and feeling the joy of being in a familiar, far away place.

May 27

So how do you end a family vacation? This morning, Ron, Grace, and I set out for Coeur d'Alene to hook up with even more family members. Uncle Harry and Aunt Virgie Lee were going to meet us at Top of China for lunch, off of US 95. Top of China is a buffet. Its most prominent feature was the pepperoni pizza. It reminded me of a Chinese-Italian restaurant that was once in Arlington. Very strange.

I sat next to Uncle Harry, and across from Mike. I don't talk to either of them very often, so it was a nice opportunity to visit. Uncle Harry was a logger most of his life. He and Aunt Virgie Lee live in St. Maries, 40 or so miles outside of Coeur d'Alene. Jeannie and John, their daughter and son-in-law also joined us. John is a welder and dock builder. Jeannie is retired for health reasons. She had a stroke several years ago and can't work. She is quite a person to talk to, lots of stories, lots of laughter. I'm always awed at the different roads life takes us, sometimes parallel, sometimes crossed, and sometimes in totally different directions. I see the folks about once every couple of years. They get older, more frail, but I'm impressed by the measure of joy they bring to their lives.

After lunch, Grace, Ron, and I went to Jeannie's for some of Aunt Virgie's desserts. She's great with the sweets. She makes a mean chocolate cake, and she had some chocolate chip bars, and a graham cracker-pecan concoction that was excellent. I'll have to fix it sometime. So we gabbed for a couple of hours. I love the stories, and Harry, Virgie, and Jeannie are all great storytellers. John is quite the storyteller, too. I'm happy to have the family that I have.

We made our way back to Spokane in late afternoon. Ron had a workout at the gym, while Grace and I walked around Riverfront Park. The park extends along both sides of the Spokane River from the upper falls to the Maple Street bridge. It's the site of the 1978(?) World's Fair. The park has a carousel, so we took a ride, and we walked across the footbridges to get a better view of the upper falls. The water is very high, so the river looked like a seething mass of energy hitting the rocky banks along the island and the shore. Signs all over the place warn about the extreme drowning danger at the river's edge. After seeing the rapids and the falls, the warnings tell a story.

May 26

Today is our last day here at the Haymoon Resort. We have really enjoyed our stay, and had some wonderful times. We're going to pack, then head out to Kalispel for a few hours. We're staying in Spokane tonight, then going over to Coeur d'Alene to visit Aunt Virgie Lee and Uncle Harry. Kat, Mom, and Mike are going to join us after taking Pattie to the airport. She has an early afternoon flight.

Mom and Pattie are already planning a Yellowstone adventure two years from now. I can hardly wait. Honestly, no irony.

We spent a couple of hours in Kalispel, running into the rest of the clan a couple of times. It's a very small town and we have a large family. We got on the road about 2 p.m. The drive over to St. Regis really is beautiful. We drove up a couple of mountain valleys - some pretty lonesome places that were a bright, spring green. The weather was cloudy with very intermittent showers, and the sun playing across the rain squalls made the scenery even more beautiful. I can imagine myself in this type of landscape, although I'm probably a city boy through and through by now. I don't know if I could shake 23 years of creature comforts, but I can imagine myself in the midst of this landscape.

We stopped in St. Regis for a rest stop. Grace got her huckleberry shake, at last. Back on I-90, I became concerned that I didn't have directions to the Doubletree Inn in Spokane, thus began our quest for vistor information. In this day of cell phones, yellow pages are difficult to come by. We first stopped at a visitor center outside Coeur d'Alene, but the center was closed. Next we tried Stateline, but got on the wrong exit; well, it was a mess. The next exit took me down a road going the wrong way. I feel naked in situations like that. Of course, I was now completely frazzled. Finally, we found a visitor center in a West Spokane Valley mall (the direction signs are tiny blue markers, hard to see from the car). Of course, once inside the center, we couldn't find any hotel information.

This is when Ron took control. First he located the public phones in the mall. They didn't have phone books (why would you need phone books, anyway?). Next, he walked over to a laser cosmetic skin care boutique and inquired if the shop had a yellow pages. The two young women in the shop were extremely helpful. They knew exactly where the hotel was, and gave us very good directions. We got to the hotel a half hour later, checked in, then set out for dinner.

So the next time you are in Spokane, Washington, I suggest you eat in the Italian Kitchen. The food is very good. Ron even got some veggies with his dinner. He was happy. Grace had a seafood dish, and I had scampi with a tasty risotto. I realize that seafood in the Inland Empire may seem a little weird, but I'm sure they caught it all off a dock in the Spokane River, fresh, daily. I'm sure of it. Great food. Check it out.