French fries, pizza, and M(ac)oroni...

Well I guess it's been about three weeks since I returned from my first ski excursion, which was also my first trip to Utah. It was also my first multi-day trip with the new beau. Lots of firsts for a gal like me. That means a long post for you. At least there are pictures...

So Q and I were to meet up with J, R, B, D, and E in Salt Lake City on a Saturday evening to occupy what would be our ski condo for the week. We flew while all the others drove in because Q had to leave for Iowa mid-trip and I abhor a long ride home. We also decided it would be fun to arrive early and meet my friend H, who lives in Salt Lake City and is a real, live Mormon, and hang out with her for the day while the others were stuck in a truck for 10 hours.

H picked us up at the airpoer and the three of us decided to tour Temple Square, the heart of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, aka Mormonism. H is active in the church but not in that ride-your-bike-around-and-convert-folks kind of way and was more than happy to take the guided tour with us and show us around her town. Thanks H!

Our tour of Temple Square was led by two very nice young ladies on their respective missions on assignment at the world LDS headquarters. One was from Arizona and the other from Australia and they were quite entertaining and fun. I would highly suggest that if you are in Salt Lake, you hit the square and take a tour as it is a) free, b) very informative, and c) not preachy in the least, except when you have to sit quietly as a statue of Jesus speaks to you. That was a bit uncomfortable, especially because he sounded a bit swishy.

For someone like me, who is about as non-religious as they come, it was quite amazing and gave me some insight into how the religion (or any religion for that matter) was established. Here is what I learned from the tour: A blonde and blue Native American angel named Moroni who was fleeing religious prosecution buried some gold plates with inscriptions on them in New York around the time of Jesus (or shortly thereafter). Then, in the early 1800's Moroni came back as an angel and visited Joseph Smith in his bedroom in Palmyra, New York (naturally) and told him to go dig up the gold tablets on The Hill Cumorah. Good old Joe did, then he somehow figured out how to translate them and that became The Book of Mormon. Smith then told his buddy he would not be allowed into the Kingdom of Heaven unless he paid to have the book published. Smith knew this because he was a latter day prophet who received revalations from god (including the one about polygamy). The friend paid for the publishing, found an extra wife or two, and LDS was formed. Some other stuff happened along the way and about 50 years later the Mormons ended up in Utah with Brigham Young (another prophet) as their leader.

When they got to Utah they built this modest temple, now known as Assembly Hall:
It took them three years to build it. Mind you, this was in 1877 so you know they were working pretty hard! That fountain has seagulls on top. The seagull is the state bird of Utah, which I find kind of amusing. You can go inside the church and it is quite nice. The benches are made of pine but the early Mormons handpainted the pine to look like oak because oak was more impressive.

After that temple was finished, Mr. Young decided they need a bigger one so they started building what is now know as the Salt Lake Temple:
Yes, it's quite impressive. It should be, it took them 40 years to complete it. It's more than 250,000 square feet and its walls are nine feet thick. Nope, you're not allowed in unless you are an active member of the LDS church. Even my friend H had not kept up her Mormon card and so would not be allowed in. Incidentally, that little gold man at the top to the left is the angel Moroni and he's on top of most, or maybe all, LDS temples.

Finally, on the LDS thing, that dome in the middle is the world famous Tabernacle where young boys sing. It is under renovation so we couldn't go inside.
After our tour of the Mormon center of the world, we headed to one of my favorite temples, Barnes and Noble, and drank coffee while pretending to read books that we had no intention of purchasing.

Everyone eventually arrived and we all ate, drank and were merry. We then played some card games, including a rousing game of spoons. Think musical chairs with drunk adults, spoons and cards. Basically, there is one fewer spoon than people and everyone is trying to get matching cards. The first person to get four of a kind grabs a spoon. This prompts everyone else to grasp a spoon and the person left empty-handed gets a letter. When you get enough letters to spell "SPOONS" you're out. If you've ever played spoons, you know it can get ugly if you're fighting over the last spoon.

So we were playing and I had a SPOO when I caught the short end of a spoon handle of which B had the actual spoon part. B is a fit firefighter and we were wrestling over the spoon. He was on his back and I was on top of him on my back with my left hand bent back trying to steal the spoon. Knowing I was outpowered, I created what is quite possibly the best spoon maneuver ever by taking my right hand, creeping it along B's thigh, finding his butt, and strategically placing my middle finger in a certain sensitive area. B reacted as if he'd been hit with a taser and bucked me off, spoon and all. All the witnesses agreed that there are no rules in spoons so the spoon was rightfully mine. In light of this, B soon moved to the other side of the spoon area and did not challenge me for a spoon again. Come to think of it, no one did...

The next morning was our first day skiing. Yes, I decided to try to ski because, first, Q is a skier and it would be more fun for the two of us, and second, the Outdoorspro, a ski patroller, recommended it. So off we went to Brighton Ski Resort.

We arrived at the resort and I was not feeling well at all. I had a fever, the shakes, and the general misery that is associated with the first days of the flu. Still, I went and attempted to learn to ski. Note to non-skiiers: Learning to ski while you have a fever and do not feel well sucks as there is a bit of coordination and patience involved.

Poor Q took me up the mountain and spent the next hour and a half watching me snowplow and fall down it. I was about as miserable as you can imagine. It was about 3 degrees out and all I wanted was to get to the bottom of the hill and sleep. Add to being sick the fact that schools of five and six-year old skiiers were passing me in perfect formation reciting the ski commands "pizza" and "french fries" as I lay my back wondering why my ski was above my head didn't help much either. We eventually made it down the mountain where I stayed in the lodge for several hours drinking cocoa and thinking how much skiing sucks and that I would not be back while Q (at my insistence) went off and had some fun. By later in the afternoon my fever had broken and I attempted two more runs that went a bit better but I was still shakey and not feeling well, although I did have more fun than on that first run.

The next day I was completely sick and decided to stay back at the condo to rest while everyone else went skiing. Poor Q wanted to stay back with me but I insisted he go have some fun as he is a good skiier and was leaving the next day. I slept all day. Yes, this is exciting, isn't it.

The next day was an off day so we did some ice skating because B is Canadian and wanted to show off and everyone else kind of relaxed around the house. Q left for Iowa that afternoon so I was left to watch the American Idol elimination show with the gang, once again reinforcing my belief that cable tv is worthless.

By the fifth day I was feeling better and headed back up the hill to Solitude Ski Resort. For my first run of the day R and J were kind enough to take me up the Eagle Express to the top of an "advanced" blue run. This included a long downhill with a lodge at the bottom of the big hill. There was no way down other than on those two things attached to my feet so with R prompting me with commands of "snow plow" (pizza) and "go straight" (french fries) I started down the mountain. I lost my skis a few times, ended up in the moguls once or twice, and learned that I had not yet mastered the skill of turning left. Of course, that was nice for my friends as they could watch me do this:

And this:All the way down. Note to future skiiers: Do not take a blue run if a) You cannot turn right and there are moguls to the right; b) There is an area at the bottom for people to congregate to laugh at you; and c) It is your first real attempt to ski. Then again, after that nothing was intimidating and by the afternoon I was up and skiing like a pro (or not...):
All in all it was a great trip and I learned that I can ski better when not running a fever, Q and I get along great, I have good friends who don't mind a little poke in the arse over a spoon on occassion, and that if you watch 24 and have to drink whenever someone says "Jack" it can be quite entertaining.