Sunday, July 17, 2011

Another entry about how much I love Utah. Aren't you glad?

Today's PSA: Do not get on a ski lift ride in Park City, UT, unless you know how long it is, and you are okay with that. I met some friends up there earlier today for lunch. Most of them left around 3, but one lady and I walked around for a while. I've never been before. It's like Galena, IL, except in the mountains. And much, much bigger.

Anyway, we thought it would be fun to hop on the ski lift ride at the bottom of Main Street. My tiny brain still hasn't grasped the enormity of the landscape here. To me, "ski lift" means, "short jaunt up a steep hillside, and back down." But, see, this isn't Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. This is a mountain top in a spur of the Rocky Mountains.

It was at least an hour long. It's really a miracle that the only place I burned was my nose. So now I look like a wino. Yay.

Anyway, the drive up to Park City is spectacular. My aforementioned tiny brain exploded at least four times on the way there. It's a good thing I wasn't driving, or we'd be dead in a canyon somewhere off I-80. If Jeremy and I ever find ourselves in such a position that we can literally swim in money, we are so moving there.

I have my eye on this gem (notice that it says "single family home"). 12 Bedrooms of terrible, terrible decor. I'm very sorry if that's your personal preference, but I would definitely overhaul the decorating theme. And then roll through the house on the floors I've carpeted with money.

Okay, so this one is a little more reasonably priced. I mean, for being enormous and beautiful and in the middle of one of the wealthiest communities in the country.

Actually, I have decided that we can move to a tiny hovel hidden in the woods and just get some really rich friends. Can you imagine the upkeep on some of those houses?

I am suddenly fascinated with the notion of hill people. I heard today that there are caves all over the place in the Wasatch Range, and my tiny brain immediately latched on the notion of remote, inbred enclaves hidden in nooks throughout the mountains.

Something about backward societies hidden right in the middle of modern civilization fascinates me. This may have something to do with that episode of Supernatural Jeremy and I just watched last night about the crazy family that kidnaps locals and then sets them free to hunt them. But now I must know if there are any in Utah.

It has been a very long day, and I need sleep, but I also wanted to tell you about the newest addition to our family. No, I didn't have another baby, hard as that is to believe. But my sister did! The new one's name is Adelaide, and she has pudgy cheeks and fuzzy hair, and I want to hold her so badly I itch. But it will have to wait for Christmas (babies are at their best around five or six months anyway).

My sister may or may not read this, so you should all congratulate her, just in case.


  1. This is funny. You and I share a fascination for the oddball "backward societies" tucked away here and there in the American mountains. I mean, I'm DRAWN to these places like I'd enjoy a vacation just driving around gawking at these people. What chromosone is this particular DNA pattern on?! Seriously. How is this a genetic feature of the King family?

  2. I think it's a mutation brought on by foraging through the Hamill dump for birthday gifts for our parents. When our kids are grown, we should take a road trip.

    Well, maybe after learning some karate. And how to use a gun.

  3. I'm not sure there's enough wood featured in the first listing....

    Congrats to your sister! Adelaide's a cute name :)