To say these last weeks have been crazed would be an understatement.
There was the Snowmamas Summit early-December at Park City Mountain Resort. To see the fun article I wrote about how I would spend 72 hours in Park City, be sure to go here.
We cowboy karaoked at Cisero’s wherein it was confirmed if you do not sing, dance or at least drink you have NO BUSINESS performing. Fortunately my talents lie elsewhere like careening down Gorgoza Park’s suicidal tubing hill.
We also race down the alpine coaster and were among the first to try Park City Mountain Resort’s brand spankin’ new Flying Eagle Zip line. I’m really excited about this addition because it’s a great starter zipline for my kids to try in March (there is a 42″ minimum height requirement).
Maggie and I were the first of the Snowmamas to test it out and the ending is a bit startling (and loud), hence our expressions.
In case you were wondering: startling + me = a bad mix.
I skied the first day with the group but it was my first time on skis since my knee surgery and I woke up sore the next day. I opted to skip out and explore Park City, starting on Main Street and then hiking up Daly Canyon as I passed numerous historic mining sites. When the plowed road turned to deeper snow, I thought, “This could end badly.”
That is not the first time I’ve ever harbored that sentiment.
Fortunately, it was a glorious hike and great to have some much-needed alone time at a haunt only known to the locals.
Jamie called me during my hike.
Him: How’s it going?
Me: Good. Knee was a bit sore so I opted out of skiing today.
Him: That’s good. So, what are you doing?
Me: Going snow hiking.
Him: It is just me or does that not make any sense?
Me: It’s just you. So, what are you doing?
Him: It’s been snowing non-stop in Denver so the kids and I were going to go sledding.
Me: You mean that kid with the busted arm?
Him: (Ignoring me): It took me about a half hour to bundle them up in their ski clothes. I then had to climb up into the rafters in the garage to grab the sled. Bode was down below and told me to drop it down so he could catch it.
Him: You mean that kid with the busted arm?
Him: (Ignoring me): So I dropped it down, he grabbed it, hurt his arm even more so we didn’t go sledding after all.
It’s kind of worrisome when I (the one hiking with the sore knee)am the only one making sense in this family.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 