I'm my own grandpa!

After nearly three years in Illinois, we decided to get serious about our citizenship and heritage and trekked down to Nauvoo this weekend. For those of you who aren't LDS/Mormon/consumers of Jell-O hybrids, Nauvoo is a place where early Mormons settled before persecution drove them West.

I have to say, I don't blame them. And by them, I mean both the persecutors and the pioneers. I mean, there's nothing going on in Nauvoo - one would get bored and prone to mischief. Sure, it's a beautiful place by a scenic river, but there are literally only seven eating establishments in the whole town and most of them close at 5 p.m. We actually paid $14 for a buffet that featured fake crab meat marinating in butter alongside reconstituted mashed potatoes. Mr. Dub loved the kitsch of the whole experience, while I just kept wondering why no one had opened a really good Mexican restaurant. And then I remembered they would have to live there ... in the winter.

The historical sites were pretty cool, although I got a bit weary of tour guides. Also, the Nauvoo Temple is so beautiful inside and out. I always thought it was a little trite for people to love one temple ("San Diego is the bomb!") and detest another ("Ew! Provo!"), but I now have a strange affinity for the rebuilt Nauvoo temple. It's decorated in chartreuse and buttercream tones, which is just lovely. Lovely, I tell you! Plus, my dad was in the hospital again while we were there so I especially enjoyed the unique spiritual peace you feel inside the temple. (Go here if you're still confused. Or here.)

Some thought we were crazy to head towards the Mississippi while everyone else was evacuating from there, but Nauvoo is set at a higher elevation so the super swollen river didn't quite make it to the town. Besides, the river knew it would get bored after 8 p.m. so it stuck to the Iowa side. (You know how crazy those cornfields can get!)

Anyway, I am glad we made the trip, mostly so I don't feel like an idiot when everyone asks us if we've been yet. Then again, I didn't go to the Grand Canyon until I was 14, and I lived in Arizona most of my life. (Little known fact: I was born in Washington D.C.)

Oh, but if you are now hankering to visit Nauvoo, I should warn you. The musical performances are big on overacting and references to inbreeding. In fact, when we first pulled up, I saw "I'm my own grandpa" scribbled into the dust on the back of a van. I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever read, mostly because it sounded like immature gibberish, but when we attended a musical performance later that night, there was a song by that same name. I won't go into details, but it gave me a decidedly creepy feeling inside.

But did I mention the temple is lovely?


* Kristen is the random winner of an Eliza subscription. Email me!