Still Around, Still Waiting for Snow
I’ve been on a short blogging hiatus, which sounds intentional but was mostly the result of being in Mississippi for October, November, and December and having neither the bandwidth nor the inclination to narrate my life in real time.
We’re back now in Park City, where winter is technically happening, just not with any real commitment. Snow has arrived in theory more than in practice, and the resorts are operating in a “trust us, it’ll get better” mode. At the moment, more than half the lifts and runs are still closed, which gives the season a strong conceptual winter vibe.
In other news, we won’t be here in Black Rock Ridge forever. We made an offer on a house and are now deep into due diligence and loan processing—the part of home buying where everyone needs one more document you didn’t know existed. If this all works out, sometime after the first of March we’ll be moving to a 3,250-square-foot, four-bedroom, three-bath house in Deer Mountain with views of Deer Valley East Resort and the Jordanelle Reservoir. Naturally, I’ve responded to this by looking at furniture with the intensity of a full-time job.
Career-wise, things are lining up. I’m about to start an internship with the American Heart Association as a Grants and Proposals Intern, and I’m enrolling in my final class at the University of North Texas. I’ll be finished by spring break and officially done with my master’s degree in May, which feels both exciting and suspiciously anticlimactic.
I’ve only been back in Park City for a month, but the reacclimation process has been swift. Things I’ve already relearned:
People here do not say Southern goodbye on the phone. They say “take care” and hang up.
Longtime locals take visible pride in not dressing for the weather. Coats are optional. Discomfort is implied.
I can now identify a Mormon household with alarming accuracy using only real estate listing photos.
Bus drivers are chatty, opinionated, and generous with unsolicited life and routing advice, often while smoking a cigarette.
Driving into Old Town Park City and trying to park is a mistake you only make once.
My favorite place to eat so far is Clockwork Cafe, which has yet to disappoint or try too hard.
So that’s the update: back from hiatus, between houses, between seasons, finishing a degree, starting something new, and waiting to see if winter plans to fully participate this year. More soon—assuming nothing else requires a background check, a signature, or a PDF.
