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Show vjV0 by IVan Clmlat Two eggs over easy at the Kamas Cafe It is Sunday and I don't care how perfect the snow conditions are or who makes the first tracks in Jupiter Bowl. My only immediate ambition is to mobilize an expedition to the Kamas Cafe for breakfast. With all the excitement of the holidays I haven't been to the cafe in ages and I've missed it. My idea of a perfect Sunday morning is to wake up to a little gospel music, have one cup for the road, then pile into the truck. I like to leave early enough to get to Kamas while the local ranchers are still bellied up to the . counter having their third or fourth cup of coffee. We have long since learned to get there before the midmorning rush when the snowmobilers come in with their bellowing babies. Of course, the dogs like to come along too. After leaving them behind on work days, we usually give in to those sad dark eyes on Sunday and load them into the , back of the truck. Actually I enjoy heading down the highway to the cafe, the two dogs pointing their noses around the cab, their ears flapping in the wind. , Since I'm not going to the office with a head full of things to do, I soak up the scenery which includes Piute Creek Outfitters' stable of llamas and my favorite Hiland Dairy billboard. The billboard, old and peeling, says in big letters, "FRESH MILK." It stands in a pasture alongside the highway and provides an east-to-west windbreak for a small herd of dairy cattle. On most wintery mornings there are six to eight cows and a few horses huddled together on the lee side of the sign. In the summer the same billboard is popular for the shade it offers. I've passed that scene so often I've come to believe the Hiland Dairy people planted those cows there as part of the advertisement. Sometimes we stop at the Texaco station for the Sunday paper before making a U turn on the one and only thoroughfare in Kamas to park in front of the cafe. We like to park the truck wh,ere we can watch the dogs from inside (and they can watch us). Usually there are two or three other trucks with dogs in them, and for a few minutes they all start barking, sniffing bristling and leaping in and out of their respective vehicles. That done, they settle down until the next truck pulls up. I guess it is a big social event for them. Inside, our favorite booth is almost always empty and Elaine doesn't even have to ask if we want coffee. We usually get scolded for having stayed away so long, which is taken as a friendly suggestion that we've been missed. Then even though Elaine knows exactly what we will order, she hands us two menus and says, "I'll give you a little time to decide what you want." So we sit and sip and eavesdrop on whose cow is sick, whose hay barn leaked last night and whose horse won at the chariot races the day before. I leaf through the Sunday comics, the magazine and the lifestyle section of the newspaper while my friend goes through the sports and classified ads. Then Elaine comes back and smiles knowingly while I order two eggs over easy, hash browns and whole wheat toast. While we listen to the sizzle of our breakfast being cooked to order, a few other neighbors drift in and tip their Stetsons at us. We smile and reassemble the paper in case anyone else wants to read it. When our plates arrive I wrap one slice of toast in a paper napkin for the , dogs. And that's the way it is on Sunday morning at the Kamas Cafe. |