Moonbeam Lift, Solitude Ski Resort

A little weird…kind of fun!

Ern, you want the ice cube talk, it can happen.

I just commented on a picture that says Saturday Feb 26th. Huh? Confused Ern!

Am I in a twilight zone episode? What happened to Grandmas house? Was I BLACKLISTED?

I’m back,
I keep commenting and then bouncing around to other sites with a severe case of holiday weekend ADD.

Hey, I wanna play, too!

“Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;”

Shakespeare Sonnet #116 (also inscribed on a locket my husband gave me; that’s why I know it)

Dang- You are weird. I like you.

Hey guys. That’s all. Hey!! Can’t read all the fucking comments these days. But HEY!!

And don’t worry Circus K, I too have no speeches to spout. The ones above sure are pretty though.

Besides, Dooce=Culture. So you’re covered!

isn’t it ‘sic’ in the pow. i mean, unless you actually were sick…which I hope wasn’t the case:)

Rock and roll man ROCK AND ROLL!

CK- I just like to read, and i got bored one summer and all i could find was my grandpa’s copy od As You Like It. this did lead to me reading more, and then i had to read some in HS. now, i am going to school in Cincinnati, and i can usually find time to usher at the Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival, which lets me see the plays for free. i just got lucky.

and if you want access to shakespeare look here
http://www-tech.mit.edu/Shakespeare/works.html

Dr. Johnny Fever,
Tangent, but speaking of Octopussy,have you seen these Socktopi?

http://www.buyolympia.com/q/sid=991432688/Item=deluxsockto

I love you Mr. Socktopus!

Damn Dang… you’re awfully long winded… I thought you’d never finish that damned soliliquy…

LilyOTF: That is beautiful. I feel so… lacking in culture. I don’t even have a favorite speech.

Hi, all. Hope everyone had a good weekend!

I haven’t read all the comments, but that picture makes me HURT I miss the Utah mountains so much. Oh, beautiful snowy Big Cottonwood Canyon.

Great photo!

Hey Ern!!! How was your weekend with your borrowed awesome grandma?

My name peaked in the 70′s. Woo.

i had to. that is my favorite speach.

Geez, Dang.

Oh lighten up Matt..

Oh Yeah!!! Been there, done that. Loved Solitude!

*To those who dream*

O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders’ legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider’s web,
The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,
Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;
O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight,
O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O’er ladies ‘ lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail
Tickling a parson’s nose as a’ lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she–

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

Exeunt

Long time reader, first time commenter (heehee, always wanted to say something like that).

I just wanted to commend your bravery. I have this completely rational fear of going up in a chair lift and forgetting to get off (okay, being too scared to do it) and getting dumped off the top and plummeting some distance (during which my ass would magically be on display) a’la A Christmas Story (the plummeting part, not the ass part).

So kudos to you, oh brave one.