Let the games begin

I spent the summer of 2001 as an intern for the Olympic Planning Committee for the Salt Lake Winter Games. If only I knew then what I know now. The job was 9a (...or, erh, 10) to 5p. My boss bought us lunch all of the time. People were excited to come to work because we were working for the Olympics, and what's cooler than that? Every night after work I drove back up, up, up the winding I-80 into the mountains of Park City where I was renting a little cottage built into the side of Park City mountain. It had a sunny porch for drinking Riesling and an attached sunroom with a big old jacuzzi. I went trail running in the mountains, and I rode my mountain bike on the rail trail, and I hung out at crunchy ski bum coffee shops.

funny how I had no idea that summer when I was carting my little toyota up and down those hills how good I had it. trite, but bad bosses, difficult times, expesive lunches, and cramped apartments serve a purpose. thanks to all that - when you get to your little house on a hill you know it.