I was born in Virginia. I used to think this was very special because The Virgin Mary was, too.
That’s what Virgin meant, right? I never got a straight answer in Sunday School.
When I was eight, we went up to Vermont for a family wedding. My aunt Mary had made matching dresses for my sister, my two cousins, and me. They were white, Swiss dot with puffy sleeves and ribbon sashes. We each got to pick the color of our sash and I picked seafoam green because I’d recently learned the word “seafoam” and thought it was cool. When I saw all four dresses together and realized that the other girls selected pinks and purples, I lied and said my mom picked my sash color. Sorry, Mom.
My clearest memory of the wedding is the trip from the small chapel to the bride’s mother’s home where the reception was to be held. We cut through a field and I remember skipping along, swatting at wildflowers and thinking that surely, this was what Anne of Green Gable’s life was like.
Utah holds a special place in my heart because it was on Salt Lake soil that I decided to go into business for myself. Basically, it’s up there with Virginia (where I was born) and Illinois (where I got married) in terms of State that have Changed my Life.
In 2013 I returned to Salt Lake City for Alt Summit – this time to speak as well as attend. A dream come true, basically. The conference ended on Saturday and my sister, Kerry, came out that night to continue my Utah vacation.
We headed up to Solitude to ski. Our room in the Inn at Solitude had a lovely view of the mini-village at the base of the mountain. We watched the snow fall over the Alpine-esque architecture of the clock tower/ski rental place.
That evening, we went for pizza at the small pizza place right outside the Inn. This dinner was the source of many stories and laughter for the rest of the trip.
While awaiting our pie, we chatted about our room at the Inn and contemplated one of us running upstairs to stand on the balcony while the other stayed outside to get a picture. A man at a nearby table leaned over and told us we were idiots for getting a village-view room rather than a mountain-view room. We smiled slowly as we edged our chairs further from him.
This, unfortunately, put us closer to the guy at another booth who had been narrating our visit aloud.
“Those girls have olives on their pizza.”
“That one just got more root beer.”
“They got a box. I guess they are taking pizza back to their room.”
Kerry and I kept eyeing each other beaming “IS THIS REAL LIFE??” type messages back and forth. The next night, we got take out and ate in our room.
Odd dinner-mates aside, the skiing was beyond fantastic. We had fresh snow, nearly empty mountains, and no lift lines. At night, we were alone in the outdoor hot tub where we steamed ourselves while watching fat flakes dissolve on the water’s surface.
I’m so glad my sister and I share a love of wintery mountains.
Oh, Texas. I only spent three years of my youth as a Texan, but this state features prominently in most of my childhood stories.
As competitive swimmers, my sister and I had swim meets all over the western part of the state (and even in New Mexico!).