Something is going on with Mount Saint Helens. We are not geologists or even people who understand fancy science words. But from our limited understanding, Mount Saint Helens is recharging. And so are we. But with less lava. And more ski lifts; and believe me you have not lived until taking a ski lift with Corey.

We did a lot of laundry and had great pho at a brew pub that really had no business serving pho or anything even remotely more ethnic than grilled cheese.

Park City is a nice place. The least real feeling place we have ever been but still incredibly nice. And nice people too. Except for the homophobic rich prick who tried ripping down a pride flag. Came out of a BMW and started chanting some right wing crap about how that flag somehow negated the U.S. flag. That he looked at me for sympathy triggered me into saying a few words I probably should not have (and all this at the base of Main Street on one of the quietest street corners in all of America). He drove off in a huff then circled back about a block away. There he kept poking out of an alley like a rat, waiting for us to be picked up by the time share shuttle.

But that creep ain’t Park City. Park City is an older man with a shirt unbuttoned down to his waist walking with confidence. Park City is a kid driving a shuttle bus pitching his start-up idea to a couple of tourists from Chicago. It is a million dollar shack (500 square feet and in need of an update) perched at the top of Main Street. And lots of cool hikes, great food and nice people to spend time with. Like I said, it doesn’t feel real but it ain’t a bad place to be.