being unprepared and listening to elders

If the title didn’t grab your attention, this story has to do with Julia Roberts.


My friend Jennifer, that has some decades on me, invited me to a yurt dinner last night to eat a 4 course meal and howl at the full moon. I had heard about this jolly supper that the Nordic Center puts on before. To my understanding, one skis or snowshoes out to the hut, eats, and then returns back on the trail with a flashlight and a full belly.

I filled my backpack accordingly with a head lamp, extra gloves, heat packs, water etc.

This is not my usual cup of tea. My father taught me how to camp by relying on his friend Dick who brought all of the tents, food, and camp stove. Usually, I also abide by this school of thought, and rely on others for my well being in the outdoors. But this time, oh I would be the responsible individual.

I show up to pick up dear Jennifer, and with one look I know that she is not pleased with my ski gear. “Dahling, we are going to a dinner party! You cannot wear that!” My cheeks flush and I return home to switch into a more contemporary casual dining outfit. We make our merry way down to the wigwam (a word I like much more than yurt). Jennifer tells me that we are to follow the tiki torches down the path. I assume she knows something I don’t, and that it is melted out enough to drive there.

No sir. It becomes very clear that we are walking on a packed snow trail with tiki torches few and far between. Contemporary casual dining outfits are not the best for walking through the snow in. Also contemporary casual dining outfits do not include hat or gloves. I am the biggest sissy in the cold, and as we trudge forth, I can’t help but worry about my cold mitts and how this is going to work on the way back.

Any individual with two legs or charioted by a wheel chair could have made their way down this 1 mile trail to the Magic Meadow Muffins Yurt. Outside of the canvas circular tent, there is a rack of 42 skis. Inside the warmths and frosted windows of the yurt, was Tiny Tim sitting on Uncle Scrooge’s lap smoking tobacco out of a pipe. Lies hurt the most. I’m sorry reader, let’s open door number one again to find a group of people eating, drinking and being merry. 42 people in their finest sportswear looks angelic as they feast on their amuse bouche and listening to a man strumming on a gee tar. It’s really quite cozy in a wigwam full of white people from Indiana. (They weren’t all from Indiana, I just met two drunk Indiana women at the Port-o-pottie. They were dolls and let me borrow their head lamp when I had to use the ladies’ room. Oh and yurts, do not have plumbing so take it outside.)

We got to sit down with two nice Crested Buttians named Ben and Laura. There was vino, and somethings in between, and then tiramisu. I only care about dessert.

Jennifer comes off a lot strong, and I mean this in the best ways of possible. This woman began working at 5 years old starting garage sales, moving on to a concession stand business, ran away at 15 to pick strawberries, and used her student loan money to buy investment properties. But now, years later, she visits from Kauai where she is working to bring small purple potatoes to major American cities. So enough of that, let’s get to the real talk. Jennifer told us that Julia Roberts also has a home in Kauai and also grows her own crop of root vegetables. Julia happens to sell her carrots at the Farmer’s Market. As a self-proclaimed scallywagg, my first idea was to take this photo and sell it to Us – Celebrities are just like us! Jennifer told me this was “very uncool.”

What was also very uncool was the prospect of walking back in the cold dark tundra in sweaters and jeans. But then the doors of destiny opened out the back of the kitchen, down the stairs, and to a rugged man with a snowmobile. With a rev of an engine, we got a gasoline powered ride. This happens to be much faster and more enjoyable than walking. With moonlight guiding us and the mountain looking spooky with low clouds, there were a lot of giggles and wahoos.

And the moral of the story is, even Julia Roberts can grow carrots. AND! Sometimes being unprepared can be better after all.


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