Brianhead

The other weekend we took a getaway trip to Brianhead Resort. (FYI - it is not "Brian Head" or "Brian Head Ski Resort." It's Brianhead Resort. Yes, I learned that the hard way when I got a MFE, or major factual error, on a rough copy of a newspaper article when I wrote for the SUU Journal. Also, the grocery store is spelled "Lins" when you're writing an article for the Journal, even though their damn sign is spelled "Lin's." It's spelled that way without the apostrophe because that's the way it is in the copy bible, aka the phonebook. I am still bitter about that one. So, yes, that's what I think about whenever I hear "Brianhead" or "Lin's.")

So we went to Brianhead. My Aunt Laura is an accountant at one of the lodges and she got us a room for two nights. I grew up in Colorado but have never been a fan of the snow. I never went skiing until I was a senior in high school. Sledding was as outdoorsy-cold as I want to get and that even changed after I saw my brother fly about 15 feet in the air and land on his upper back at Old Powderhorn. Very dangerous.

So, I was nervous for days about going down that sledding hill at Brianhead. But, I stood my ground and refused to go down. Instead, I sent my innocent five-year-old baby and my cousin Beth up the slopes. Who just lays on a rubber tube face first and heads down an icy mountain at speeds of 15 mph? Not me! I just make my little boy do it for photo ops.