Zen

 Sarah came into town to get her Park City home construction going, and we planned a night out on the town.  I thought in my puny brain, that I could just waltz away on a Friday afternoon, drive up and see Sarah's property, have an early dinner and make it back to Kaysville in time for an event I wanted to go to.  That would have totally worked, if not for, you know, the space time continuum, and this thing we call Real Life.

Once I got all the kids where they were going, it was 4:30, not 11 am, as I had predicted.  It was fine, since Sarah runs on Miami time, which is similar to island time, in which there are only 3 times: morning (and we don't go there), afternoon, (3 to 10 pm) and night (which can easily encompass morning!).  Sarah is very Zen.  And since I was only 4 hours behind schedule, I quickly stopped by Nana's, (talk about Zen!) then turned on NPR and shot up the canyon.  I allowed myself to relax and repeat, "I an off duty."  Or something like that.  I knew that all the wheels were still turning in K-Town, and that Scott had the home fires (and the car engine) burning.  It's hard, though, to leave that all behind.  When did relaxation become so complicated!?  I had been tempted to call off the whole thing, citing Real Life as the culprit, but Scott and I had made a pact to do more of what makes us ourselves, and this was it:  sharing a car with Scott Simon and Rene Montaigne, hurtling along the interstate, bound for a nice meal with a favorite person.

 Yuki Yama did not disappoint, and neither did the conversation.  Afterwards, we met Sarah's old friends for a drink before I once again came up against the idea of going home to make sure the world was still turning.  Scott assured me it was, and despite Nutcracker pictures beginning at 6:45 am the next morning, I stayed up at The Ranch, leaving the world to turn without my influence.  Meanwhile, I had a fireplace and a book.

This roadside is one of my favorite views, with the backside of Deer Valley ahead, The Ranch and the Jordanelle behind, and Highway 40 right there, promising adventure.  In this case, the adventure was going home and cleaning the house from top to bottom before turning it over to a family of Mennonites from Pennsylvania.  Hey, I told you Highway 40 promises adventure.