Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Hitting the Slopes

There are only two cities I can say I love year round. One is Paris, though I've only been there in the summer, I'd go anytime (yes, Randy, that IS a challenge!!) The other is a place I can actually speak to with some experience, and every time I drive to Utah I just want to stop - Park City.

In the winter the snow is breathtaking and the mountain all dressed up in her coat of white velvet beckons you to her. In the summer, she sheds the coat for her naked beauty, and accessorized with just a hint of wild flower and greenery, her slopes are still irresistable.

We visit her like a great aunt every trip - we only stop for a short time, we don't actually know that much about her and what she has to offer, but we settle in and enjoy the familiar. And like a child who is offered a piece of candy from the hard candy dish, we usually just choose a safe butterscotch or strawberry with the chewy inside - we do the alpine slide in the summer and tubing in the winter (apparently I am always wearing sunglasses and a hat), but once in a while we venture out and try the red one with the swirls that look like a ribbon.

Last summer we were treated to a girls night out with Auntie Heather, and the outdoor hot tubs were a hit!! This summer, along with the slide and coaster, we visited Olympic Park to watch a ski jump show. The boys loved sitting in the bobsled in the museum and I couldn't get enough of sitting outside soaking up the sun and breathing and smelling the arid mountain air.

And, like when I was a child and would go with Grandma to see Aunt Loene, I loved her little old brick bungalow with the giant bathtub and tree-lined street and pictured myself living there, I could say the same for Park City. But chances of it happening are about the same as they would have been for moving in with Aunt Loene.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

reality check

We arrived home from summer "vacation" (I don't think it technically counts as a vacation since I bring my work in the form of 4 kids with me) nearly a week ago and this morning my mom returned home (she was trying not to look too relieved about that), so I am left contemplating real life and how I can best avoid it.

Off topic, I just had to take a picture of Great White since I felt like a clone of Randy when I packed it and it looked "packed" not thrown together and stuffed to the gills - hmmm, maybe that's a metaphor for my reality. . . Even more off topic, note the John Edwards bumper stickers - they are a symbol of my journey out of adolescence and I can't part with them until he kicks Karl Rove to the curb in his upcoming September debate, and until Obama picks a running mate, but I digress. . .

We have a tradition for road trips in our family of a "reality check" which stems back from college debate trips. When the driver of the big van would get sleepy, no matter how many other people were legitimately asleep in the van, all the windows would be rolled down while some loud obnoxious song is cranked (the one you hear now is what we used this summer). When all passengers were in check with reality, the windows would be rolled up and the radio returned to its normal volume.

Since it's almost lunch time here and we are still eating the groceries bought by Randy the bachelor, I have a feeling I am due for a reality check, home-style. Maybe I'll go find reality before she finds me and I'll get to define her myself. Maybe she'll look more like my car on our trip home - everything with a designated place, easy to find, full but not stuffed. Likely not, but hopefully at least I'll keep my hair from flying out the windows. You'll know I succeeded when I have posted vacation pics. Check mate.