I survived the cross-country move, and while we had our moments, Dad and I really were able to enjoy something that came unexpectedly and way too fast. From the night I realized I was leaving the Valley to the night Dad and I sat in a Salt Lake City brewery, only 17 days had passed. 17 days of golfing in paradise...
climbing my mountains with my bestest of friends...
snuggling my BEST friend...
and driving across more corn fields than I ever want to see again.
And the worst part wasn't even the corn. There was a moment, as we passed the biggest 2-dimensional dinosaur drawing I've seen since the Jurassic Park ride in southern California and my lip immediately split open, that I wondered what kind of barren wasteland I was moving myself to. That was also the moment I realized this heavy drinker had already finished 2.5 liters of my standard 3-liter car water kit. This thought was reconfirmed at the Utah Olympic Park where I met a very nice lady originally from Illinois who told me, "Oh honey! This is the greenest it's been in years!" and I stifled tears and washed them down with some less-than-Rack-level nachos (and almost cried again).
Since these moments of what I'm going to call Desert Despair, I've come to terms with the brown. The leaves are changing and the less-exhilarating colors of the West are getting me pretty excited for the snow to fall, something I usually dread. And there has been a self-imposed, Dr. Kelsey prescription written that seems to cover all my needs.
One episode of any hour-long show (with the occasional extra episode, for any potential added benefits) is just what a mostly-friendless girl new to town needs. Unwind, clear the mind after the new job demands, and spread as much moisturizer into my parched, humidity-less skin. It's less that a full hour is needed to regroup and more that about four applications of body butter seem to suffice and watching Piper Chapman go through her prison sentence is like the icing that reminds me that no matter what, at least I don't have to get my body butter from Commissary. But I do still have to find a way to drink my snot on a run so that no locals passing me in their car notice.
climbing my mountains with my bestest of friends...
snuggling my BEST friend...
and driving across more corn fields than I ever want to see again.
And the worst part wasn't even the corn. There was a moment, as we passed the biggest 2-dimensional dinosaur drawing I've seen since the Jurassic Park ride in southern California and my lip immediately split open, that I wondered what kind of barren wasteland I was moving myself to. That was also the moment I realized this heavy drinker had already finished 2.5 liters of my standard 3-liter car water kit. This thought was reconfirmed at the Utah Olympic Park where I met a very nice lady originally from Illinois who told me, "Oh honey! This is the greenest it's been in years!" and I stifled tears and washed them down with some less-than-Rack-level nachos (and almost cried again).
Since these moments of what I'm going to call Desert Despair, I've come to terms with the brown. The leaves are changing and the less-exhilarating colors of the West are getting me pretty excited for the snow to fall, something I usually dread. And there has been a self-imposed, Dr. Kelsey prescription written that seems to cover all my needs.
One episode of any hour-long show (with the occasional extra episode, for any potential added benefits) is just what a mostly-friendless girl new to town needs. Unwind, clear the mind after the new job demands, and spread as much moisturizer into my parched, humidity-less skin. It's less that a full hour is needed to regroup and more that about four applications of body butter seem to suffice and watching Piper Chapman go through her prison sentence is like the icing that reminds me that no matter what, at least I don't have to get my body butter from Commissary. But I do still have to find a way to drink my snot on a run so that no locals passing me in their car notice.
