Ski report

Winter '09 skiing:

Total days on the slopes: 5

Sunny days: 2

Snowy days with powder: 2

Blustery blizzard days where you couldn't tell where the sky ended and the mountain began until you were there: 1

Times stuck in powder: 2

Black diamond runs taken: 1

Falls on black diamond run taken: 1

Yards slid after fall on black diamond run: 100

Best view of mountains: Gate between Snowbird and Alta

Favorite runs: Flagstaff mountain's

Favorite lunch: Chili fries

Nicest bathrooms: the ones with both fresh flowers and toilet paper

Craziest sight: Little mouse-like vol scrambling to avoid skis being planted at the disembark point at the top of the lift, skiers trying to avoid little vol

Interesting people met on lift: Dozens

Farthest distance of people met: Sweden

States of origin of people met: Washington, Oregon, New York, Illinois, Kansas, Massachusetts, California

Interesting tidbits from people met on lifts: pointers on places to visit in Boston, what a day in the life of a Ski Patroller is like, how Swedes learn English so well because of all the American movies and television shows they get (yikes), number and qualities of ski instructors at Deer Valley, best resorts in Washington, best restaurants in town

Interesting tidbits about people met on lifts: big brothers like to pester little sisters because they only do moguls on blue runs, Irish dads are proud of their American-born kids and their American accents, retired guys with season passes ski every day of the season, ski patrollers get defensive if you suggest they just ski all day until a problem arises, politics is a hot issue even in the mountains

Sweetest moment: when a young girl stopped to see what I was taking a picture of and got as excited about an icicle as I was


Most breathtaking moment: floating down the hill alongside my husband and almost running into him

Best breathtaking moment: the sun coming out after a long day of overcast

Biggest relief: taking boots off at end of a full day

Being new

Everything's new when you've only been in the world for two and a half months.



And everybody's nice -- as long as you're not hungry.






















And everything's interesting -- as long as you're not tired.
























And when you're surrounded by people who adore you and are doing everything in their power to raise you with love and truth and goodness you've got no worries.



















And that makes everything all right.

What you look at, what you see

It cannot be avoided.

In order to get from my home to the big city just south of it, it is necessary to travers a road with oil refineries on one side and a gravel pit on the other. At one point, it is necessary to pass some grungy old bars, one of which advertises -- let's just say -- dancing girls.

This drive is an affront to my senses. My sense of environment, my sense of aesthetics, my sense of beauty, my sense of morality, my sense of propriety, my sense of men needing to respect women and my sense of women not allowing themselves to be used by men.

There is only one way to get through it each time. That is to look ahead to the distant mountains.

The Wasatch range goes north and south for miles. Often snowcapped, it is majestic and imposing. As your eyes go along its ridges and valleys, they reach the sky, also inspiring. You know there are beautiful places, beautiful things, clean air and untouched wilderness. Purity.

Permit me to draw a larger picture.

Going through life often brings you close to pollutions of various sorts. Things that somehow seem wrong. Or sad. That perspective can bring you down unless you look ahead to the bigger picture, find the natural, the clean, the innocent. Direct your eyes upward to the mountains, to the sky. There is beauty and good. And it is there for us whenever we turn our eyes to it.

A letter

Their research was extensive, as always. The TIME reporters had lots of facts and lots of expert opinions and drew lots of conclusions and postulated lots of theories.

But they missed a rather large point. A point I attempted to point out to them in one of my annual concisely-written letters to the editor, any editor.

Unfortunately, I was a week behind on my magazine reading/study so the letter got there too late for publication, which I'm sure would have happened because editors always choose my concisely-written letters to publish and have through time.

So as not to waste another written work and a thought that is crying out to be shared, I include it here. I'm quite sure the readership of my blog does not match the readership of TIME, but you all are the only audience left to me. I'll take you.

First, the background:
The article on "How faith can heal" debated whether religion should be added to science in the healing process. There seemed to be some proof that people of faith do live longer and heal faster and that perhaps religion has some giant placebo effect. Studies suggest that being a believer has a medical benefit and fasting and being charitable are healthy and that thinking you're being prayed for makes a huge difference in your recovery.

"Here's what's surprising: a growing body of scientific evidence suggests that faith may indeed bring us health..." said the article by Jeffrey Kluger.

Now, the letter:
"To the editors:

"Your articles on health and spirituality (February 23, 2009) failed to consider a point that seems most obvious to those of us who have faith in a supreme being.

"While it may be impossible to analyze, it should be considered: Does God, in fact, answer prayers? Does God bless those who pray sincerely and serve generously and fast humbly with improved health or longer life or greater peace?

"My vast but scientifically undocumented experiences have proven to me that He does."


It's me again. And I know that all prayers are not answered in the way we want them to be answered. And I know that good people get sick and good parents have sick children. But I don't think our scientists and reporters should go around saying that when we do get better or live longer it's because of belief alone. They're forgetting the goodness and grace of the One to whom we pray.

The good news

The crocus are starting to show.

One war is just about over.

There's more talk going on with other nations.

Gas is less than half what it was.

The sun came up again this morning.

91.9 percent of the people in America who want jobs have them.

The guy in charge is stimulating the economy by proposing new projects and making more jobs, not by the hair-brained idea of sending everybody $600 and hoping they'd spend it.

Snow is pretty even if it's cold.



Health issues are being handled ever more deftly as people live longer, hear better and feel better thanks to medical research and care.

Family.

Beauty.

Nature.

Love.

Peace.

Literature.

Safety.

Knowing people still come to America because it is the land of opportunity.

Faith.

Collecting

Nobody else over 15 raised their hands when asked about collections.

I looked around the room at my family, gathered for a reunion and warming up with a get-acquainted game, and was surprised to be the only one admitting to something other than a key-chain collection.

I said I collected lighthouse figurines, which is only partially true. I also collect creches, salt and pepper shakers, photo books and pottery. Mostly as souvenirs from memorable places, also as gifts from those who've thought of me when they've been in memorable places.

Those who write the how-to-avoid-clutter articles in the January start-the-new-year-right magazines would not approve of my office. Here I have collected a life's worth of souvenirs from memorable events -- pictures from beautiful places, shells from beaches all over, books from college, letters from friends, rocks from trails, heirlooms from grandparents. There's a sheep-skin rug from New Zealand friends over 30 years ago, a decorated duck egg from a sweet door-to-door sales woman that I just couldn't bear to say no to 20 years ago, a sand castle from an impulse purchase 15 years ago, a China doll from an uncle 40 years ago.




My life and loves and memories in one space.


This is not clutter however. This is celebration.


Celebration of the experiences of the past. Of the people I've met, the places I've been, the things I've felt and seen and learned.


I love going into others' homes. Seeing what they hang on their walls and what they set on their mantles tells me so much about them, their interests, their lives, their loves.

Everybody has collections. Maybe not of spoons or bottles or salt and pepper shakers, but of life's important moments and memories. And while I have to admit I can't take the ones on the shelf with me, hopefully they're representative of the intangible ones I can.

Convention

OK, I'm as big a fan of Jane Austen novels as the next guy -- ahem, I mean, -- gal, but I've gotta admit there were times during my most recent reading of Persuasion when I wanted to slap somebody.

You'll remember the plot: After eight years, the protagonist crosses paths with the man she was once engaged to and THEY DON'T SAY ANYTHING TO EACH OTHER.

Wouldn't you just, kind of, look for an opportunity to be in a quiet corner out of earshot of others and say, as if to an old friend or something: So, how've ya been these last EIGHT YEARS?

But no. It takes 200-some pages, depending on the edition, for any kind of a conversation.

So that makes for the excitement -- the page-turning -- the suspense: When will they TALK? When will they admit to their feelings for each other? When will the other people get out of the way so they can take it from where it once was to where it should be?

It also makes for the frustration.

Those Brits in that era were downright... what's the word... stiff!!

And then I calm down and think of a few relationships in my life. Really close relationships in fact, where I wish I could just sit down and ask questions and get answers and go from there.

Is it convention, is it trust, is it nerve?

Or are we just as stiff as the next guy -- or do I mean... gal?