Valentine's Day: Hair and "Man-Pats"

So yesterday, Angie gave me one of the best Valentine's day gifts I have ever received. She allowed me to accept my Uncle Steve's offer of going skiing at Deer Valley!(This is a picture I took of Steve on the Wind River trip last year - check it out on google earth or maps.google.com at 43° 5' 0.36" N 109° 31' 6.91" W and make sure the photo option is turned on)

It was an awesome day of skiing considering the resort had received over 2 feet of snow in the prior 24 hours. The bumps were soft and fresh tracks were to be had for those willing to venture off the beaten path. It seriously doesn't get any better than fresh Utah powder!

(The picture below was taken by my friend Adam Barker - a photographer with more talent in his little finger than I could ever hope to have - if you want to be inspired by nature and the

outdoors, check out his site at adambarkerphotography.com)

Anyway, one of the most interesting things about Deer Valley is the lunch. Imagine a cafeteria but the opposite in every sense except that it's still a cafeteria. The food is absolutely top notch. Because we ski with pretty big groups, we usually have to get tables out of the way and up a flight of stairs in order to sit together. On this occasion it proved to be a blessing. Why you ask? At the table right next to us was none other than Mitt Romney sitting there with his family! He was obviously sitting there to avoid the foot traffic of downstairs, although that didn't stop a few people from walking right up to him and asking him for a picture (I bet celebrities absolutely loathe the invention of the camera phone). A few observations here. We were seriously close enough to listen in on his conversations if we wanted to, though I didn't really want to invade so I didn't try. He was texting on his blackberry quite a bit (replying to Obama's pleas for economic advice anybody?). But by far the most amazing thing is something that requires a little background. First off, he had his ski boots on so it's only logical that he was actually skiing before lunch because you wouldn't wear those clunky things otherwise. Also, it was cold and snowy that morning so there's no way he was out there without something covering his head. In the light of these facts you can now appreciate how extraordinary it was that his hair was absolutely perfect! When I take off a ski hat/helmet for example, I look like a mix of Ed Grimley, Shaggy-Doo and Buckwheat. I have no idea how he pulls this off. Maybe there is top-secret head ware for the uber-rich that doesn't leave devastation in it's trail. Nonetheless, it was really important that his hair was exquisite seeing how many people asked him for pictures. Now I understand why I can't be a celebrity; there would be way too many pictures posted on the internet with my hair looking like Nick Nolte's mugshot.

I think Luke 12:7 (http://scriptures.lds.org/en/luke/12) must be Mitt's stylist's mantra.

I did however get the opportunity to talk to him. While I was carrying my enchilada up the stairs, he was coming down. I seized the opportunity like a lion after an injured gazelle (a comment in passing is much better than interrupting his personal time/space at his table, no?). Luckily I didn't put my foot in my mouth and tell him how I had actually voted for Ron Paul in the primaries. Instead, I asked him how a childhood acquaintance of mine named Spencer Zwick was doing (he's Romney's former deputy chief of staff and Mitt has referred to him as his "sixth son"). He said "great" and asked me how I knew him. I replied explaining I had gone to school with him and his older brother Darren. He said "they're a great family" (that tends to happen when your dad is a General Authority) and put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a few "man-pats." I'll take man-pats over a handshake any day of the week. So there you go, that's my close encounter, hope you enjoyed it. The moral is that this would never had happened if Angie hadn't given me such a great present. This was all followed up with me taking her to a wonderful dinner and seeing that Andrew had learned to say "dadadadada" (always followed by a fit of excitement) that day. Oh, and not to worry, I groomed myself before taking her out.