This weekend, it became official.
I moved to the big city of Salt Lake in a darling little 1950's home with an apple tree, raspberry bushes, and a rose garden.
And then I didn't sit down for a single second for the rest of the weekend, because I was exploring every canyon I could find with a newly-formed friend crew, going to concerts, eating heaven hamburgers at bars, crying through all of Sacrament Meeting in my new ward because it pegged my deepest heart strings, pretending not to know a past Tinder date until he called me out and then I "suddenly remembered" him, picnicking in the woods, trying not to get trampled by a moose, hearing all about a drunk woman's first-time fishing experience, and finally falling asleep on my basement floor to Pirates of the Caribbean surrounded by that same group of friends.
So by the time Monday morning hit like a ton of bricks, I woke up in my new bedroom in a happy-drunk state, and rolled over to see the apple-tree in my backyard shining lightray beams through it's branches at me, and I LOVED EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE WORLD!
Until I couldn't find my deodorant on the way out the door.
I actually sort-of moved up here on Wednesday when Mace single-handedly packed up and carried everything I own to the new house. But when I spent the night all alone on the floor, and woke up screaming because of a nightmare, and then was too tired to give any real concern to the eerie sniffling I heard in the kitchen, I decided I'd spend my last days down in Provo with my wonderful human friends. And also, internet. (Because I can't go longer than 5 hours without an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker. Guys. This show is the real dating deal).
Anyway, so Saturday came, and 8 million people showed up at our house to help us move. I mean, our 6 friends we had told would have been sufficient, but OKAY, LET'S DO THIS! However, we couldn't produce enough boxes for that many people, because we didn't have that much stuff, so thousands of random people that I'd never seen before just wondered all over our house asking us for things to do, while lots of boys with big muscles tossed around our dressers and mattresses, and I just got really overwhelmed and hid in the closet. Oh wait, that's what I did last year when we moved.
But in no time, we were loaded up and ready to haul out. Most everyone left because they probably hated our payment of Krispie Kremes and needed to go puke them up. But a small crew remained to make the journey north with Julie and I. We all scrunched together in a few vehicles and headed out.
We arrived at our new house and unloaded all the furniture and remaining boxes. Then all eight of us headed off together to the U-haul drop-off. I rode on the back of Julie's bike with my buddy, Jonny. Our friend Mike is always really particular about me wearing a helmet on the bike. Yes, safety first! But then I found out it's because he was hit when he was 14 and it severely broke his back, and doctors told him he wouldn't be able to do much of anything for the rest of his life, but later he was on the BYU Football and Track team, and he published a book about it all, as he tells me this story holding our entire couch with one arm. So, then helmet it is.
After dropping off the U-haul, because that takes 8 people to do, the whole crew went back to Provo, while Stephanie, Travis, and I went in search of food. Travis and I went through the accounting program together, and he recently became my neighbor in Provo. Stephanie was a really close friend from my ward. Craving Mexican food, and being horribly misled by Google Maps, we finally found these taco trucks all on our own, like the big kids we are. As we melted in the sun, I told Travis this was a cultural experience, and it's all part of the adventure. And then he ordered for us (love when men do that), and we indulged ourselves in the most delicious and drippy $3.00 burritos with spiciness perspiring out of our foreheads, until we were fully convinced that we were on the streets of Mexico, not a Sears parking lot.
Then we all shed our co-dependency on each other so some individual showering could happen. A couple hours later, we all gathered again, plus some extra folk, up the canyon at Snowbird for a Joshua James concert.
My new buddy, Ryan, and I people-watched with great intent. Laughing at The Incredible Hulk steroid man, snickering at a penny stuck on the butt of some guys shorts in front of us, and spotting all the bikers on the mountain.
Then we drove down the mountain to meet the rest of the crew at Lucky 13 for dinner. On the way, Ryan told me the most intense story of a time he worked for an evil company that did a whole bunch of unscrupulous things that I'm not allowed to mention, and they sabotaged the entire business inside-out, and when Ryan left, they went up against him in a fiery lawsuit, and he had to hire the best lawyer in town to get a fair settlement, and then Ryan tried to apologize for the length of his story - "NOOO, CORPORATE DRAMA! MUST CONTINUE!!" and I didn't let him finish talking until long after we had finally met up with everyone at the bar, and I felt like I had just watched the best Hollywood film of my life. I think Ryan is John Grisham.
Then we ordered our heaven sent burgers, all squished together on these little tables. And even though the ratio of dudes to ladies was 7 to 3, Julie, Steph, and I still went to the back of the bar to play some strange game with drunk gay Belgium dudes because they were the laughiest people I'd ever seen. I told Travis again this was a cultural experience, and it's all part of an adventure.
I believe every story becomes an adventure if you allow it with no inhibition.
Then we all somehow made it to some beds and crashed for the night.
Sunday, Julie and I realized we failed to buy groceries the night before, so we tried to see how a day without food would feel, but then we ended up at her parent's house by noon, eating peaches and shortbread cookies. YES, MORE PLEASE!
Then we went to our new ward with our girl Amy, WHO LIVES JUST DOWN THE STREET. Somehow it was not mentioned to me before that she lives so close, but boy was I excited when I figured it out.
After church, our same Saturday crew drove back up to Salt Lake so we could have a picnic up Big Cottonwood Canyon. Julie and I are trying to manipulate them into being our friends for as long as possible until they realize one day how expensive we are to their gas bill, and they ditch us. But at least that buys us some time to manipulate some SL people into being our new friends.
Anyway, we found a nice little spot in the woods near Solitude Ski Resort. We made some sandwiches in a confusing assembly line, and watched YouTube videos - because that's why you leave the hustle and bustle of society, so you can finally gorge on all your technology in PEACE!
Then we formed an exclusive club with an entrance fee of drinking pickle juice. We aren't sure what to do with our club yet, but what matters is that we all rightfully and tart-facedly paid the price of membership. And also, Ryan is a river raft guide, so I'm sure that will mean something to the club shortly.
Then, walking down from our picnic and back to Solitude Resort, a moose was standing in the middle of the swamp. People were gathered all around the hairy beast, and when he started throwing a temper tantrum and prepping for charge, I thought someone for sure was going to die. But then the moose walked with us all for awhile, and then went on his placated way back into the woods. Um, hello Moosen, where's the show?
But instead, on this walk, we came across this drunken man and woman, sloppily fighting through the bushes, up from the lake. The woman was barefoot, covered head to toe in mud, a small amount of clothing draping over where it needed to, and make-up smeared all the way up to her hairline. Guys, she just had her FIRST FISHING EXPERIENCE EVER! Which she told to us at quite the volume in full slurred, repeated detail. And we all sat down on the bench and listened, while she veered right and left, nearly falling into our laps several times, and screaming, "I SHOULD BE IN THE CARIBBEAN!" And also, she didn't keep any of the fish because she "threw them back in the ocean." Yep, she sure did. Then on her way out she flashed a gang sign at us and yelled, "CATCH SOME FISH YOU MUTHA EFFERS!!!!!" Then slowly staggered side-to-side down the path. She loved us, and we loved her.
A girl was sitting down the bench from us trying to peacefully read her book through all of this. We all inquired about the book, and I think it might be my holy grail - Loving What Is. I've already put in an order. I asked that girl many questions, mostly because I desperately wanted to be her friend. But there's no right way to ask that question to a lone woman out in the woods, and when I told Ryan this as we walked away, he thought I meant the crazy drunk lady. Sure, her too.
After a bit of Laughing Yoga in the parking lot, we all went back to our new house. After 30 minutes of all eight of us trying to play interior designer and figure out how to arrange ONE couch and ONE TV in a GIANT basement room, we decided that we should all keep our current day-jobs and settled down for 20 minutes of Pirates of the Caribbean. I had to jump on Ryan's hotspot and do some quick emergency work. And then sleep called.
And thus begins my life in Salt Lake City, Utah. And a membership in The Pickle Gang. Holy hi, I love it!
Upward and onward,