I am not a sportsman. I don’t hunt and I don’t fish and I don’t regret that decision. Regardless, I decided to join my family for a morning of ice fishing at Scofield Reservoir a few weekends ago for the sake of curiosity and company. Jason’s irrational desire to stand on a frozen lake intrigued him into also coming along on this outing. Sadly, despite our many holes and numerous enthusiastic young fishermen, no fish were hooked that day but at least the banter and snowballs were as plentiful as the ineffective worms.
Haidyn was a patient fisherman but her persistence did not pay off.
Why wouldn’t a fish or two want to join this party?
Scofield is located high in the Manti-La Sal Mountains and can be reached via a little jaunt up Spanish Fork Canyon. It’s a favorite with anglers because of its abundance of trout. The ice was about two-feet thick when we congregated on its surface, which is plenty deep enough for all safety standards except those put forth by worrying mothers. It was both a bit discomforting and exciting to run along that frozen expanse with snow crunching under your boots and remember that you were not loping around on solid ground but solid water.
Isabelle found her lack of instant fish unacceptable and had to be walked around until napping set in.
In the absence of fish, the snowballs did fly and there was no mercy for the the adolescent.
We all had a terrific time gabbing while the fish weren’t biting. So, although a few of the kids went home disappointed that they didn’t have any scaly trophies to show for their efforts, the rest of us considered the outing a fish-less success.
You don’t need a TARDIS to travel into the past, you just need a few ringlets or an uncommonly-undersized waistcoat.
I made both of these costumes and have sewn others like them. One never knows when a whole wardrobe of Austen might be required to procure enjoyment.
Last week we, once again, attended the Regency Romance Ball in Salt Lake City. This Jane Austen-themed event was, as expected, full of forgotten manners and spirited dances. We were joined this year by four other couples of our acquaintance, making a highly agreeable assemblage.
Our group was well dressed but not well behaved.
A proper lady can’t wear the same ensemble two days or two successive balls in a row. Therefore, despite my lack of lacking appropriate attire, I made a new dress with a matching reticule for this affair. I also added to the Regency wardrobe of my stylish gentleman by stitching him some authentic breeches. I assure you, that measure was self-serving in nature as any work put into Jason’s apparel for this occasion was well rewarded through the very great pleasure afforded by his historical hotness. But, apart from that, our costumes also procured us the prestigious, yet not that prestigious, position of 2nd place in both the women’s and men’s contests and also in the couple’s. How do you win 2nd place three times in one night and not 1st ever? I suppose it takes a particular type of talent to nearly succeed repeatedly while still consistently remaining a loser.
Our men flaunted outdated fashions with grandiosity and absurdity.
We ladies were elegantly attired in gowns that even Miss Woodhouse would have deemed acceptable.
Jason and I delightfully danced the night away while our companions selectively dabbled on the dance floor. Few women, and none of good breeding, would complain about the prospect of being twirled around a ballroom by their very own Pemberley squire. I would certainly not be among them.
It has become a January tradition over the last few years for us to spend a weekend at a condo near Powder Mountain Resort and hit those slopes with a group of friends. Last year a delicious but inconvenient storm turned our chosen weekend into a slippery and wonderful frolic. This year…the less said on the subject of snow quality the better. No new snow didn’t mean a no go for us though and we had a fantastic time despite this winter’s precipitation abnormalities.
I practiced some wall hits on the slopes of Bear Hollow.
Jason and I arrived one night earlier than our buddies with the purpose of trying out a resort in the area that we had never been to: Snowbasin. Jason was like a frenzied puppy awaiting a new chew toy; he was exuberant over the prospect of boarding some unexplored terrain. His anticipation was not unwarranted. Snowbasin, as it turns out, is pretty expansive, plush and awesome. While no fresh powder transcended our experience, the sun was shining and the air was unnaturally warm. With temps in the high thirties, the snow was more forgiving than expected and we had a very pleasant afternoon.
Snowbasin is a high-class resort with eleven lifts, 2,830 skiable acres and this moose.
Snowboarders are notoriously cockeyed.
The next day, accompanied by Drew, Simone, Abigail and Adam who had all arrived the previous night, we set out on a snowshoeing adventure at Ogden Nordic, which is located at North Fork Park. (Snowboarding was ruled out as our outdoor activity of the day due to the apparent powder shortage.) No one in our group, with the exception of me and Jason, had ever tried snowshoeing before but, after some awkward acclimating, they all got the hang of it.
Winter seemed to forget its purpose and invited instead of chilled.
Although it was another uncharacteristically agreeable afternoon, half of our gang decided that they’d had enough exercise after about thirty minutes or so of trudging through the snow. Abigail, Jason and I, however, were far from ready to relinquish our sunny positions. We left the others and took a steep winding trail to a fantastic overlook. This viewpoint journey required more work than anticipated and over three miles of trekking but it was well worth it. The overlook was nestled in a nook of dense peaks and contrasting pines. It was quite lovely.
We left the overlook just after the sun descended behind the mountains but managed to cruise back to the trailhead before it got dark.
Apart from our frosty adventures, the bulk of our weekend was consumed by board games: Love Letters, Star Trek: Fleet Captains, Citadels and Poison. There was a lot of laughing, a little bickering, much strategizing and a bit of yelling involved in the playing of these games. Most of it was all in the name of fun…the rest was in the name of vengeance.
Simone and I led The Klingon Empire to a glorious victory.
What a nice weekend. Sure, the snow was less than exceptional but the sun outshone itself and the indoor diversions were, well, quite diverting.
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