Hurray. Floorspace is Found!

I found an understanding friend. Thank you, Paul, for opening your just-sold home to us even though you are shuffling crazily to move and find a new home for yourself. It's refreshing to find others willing to take a chance even if they are a grown-up. Yeah! L.A. here we come.

Woe is me.....

Why is that as we get older we lose our sense of hospitality? When we were in college, we crashed on floors with our sleeping bags and shared beds with platonic friends. This happened all the time, everywhere. We repaid the favor by filling the fridge and offering our homes in return. And friends took us up on that offer. We preferred the familiar to a hotel bill. We saw this as an opportunity to bond not as a chance to freeload. Well, ok, it’s also to save money. I am coming to Los Angeles July 22-25 for a class that cost me $225, a plane ticket that was $182 and a rental car that was $120. I also have to fly to Idaho and Atlanta in August, Massachusetts and Virginia in September. So, yes, if I don’t have to pay for a hotel, all the better. But to me, I would rather have friends stay with me than at a hotel anyway. It’s rude. (I had one ex-boyfriend, however, that chose the hotel because my house isn’t clean enough for him. Well, that I understand. I don’t organize my soup cans and color code my towels.)

But now, those offers to “come visit me” have dried up. Friends are married, have kids, want a quiet place to retreat after a full day at their “grown-up” jobs. Their once anxious calls to visit are replaced with “there’s no room,” “my place is too small,” “we are in the middle of moving,” or my favorite, “Now’s not a good time.” Guests get in the way.

Because I’m single and freelance, I have a difficult time understanding this mentality. Even when I rent out my spare room, I’ve got a couch and living room if friends need a place to sleep. I may be busy and never see them but at least they won’t have to shell out $100/nt someplace or crash in their car. My family is even worse. My sister, the (anti)Buddhist, said I could use her tiny Silverlake apartment while she was in India. One week from the visit, she sends me an email with a bunch of excuses that basically said, “I’ve changed my mind. Find someplace else.” This, after everything I’ve done to help her, from giving her pet advice, to asking my friends and contacts to help her with the weird music she creates, to trying to patch things up between her and our dad (who cut her off years ago). She wouldn’t even be there to feel my presence yet it wasn’t an option on second thought.

Makes a person feel bad about themselves. Was I a lousy houseguest at some point? Did word get around so that people I’ve never stayed with won’t open their homes? How come no one ever said anything to me about it? I know that I shouldn’t take this personally but out of 10 calls to find housing for this coming weekend in L.A. only one kind soul said, “If you can’t find anything else, then I suppose….”

I really want to know. Why, when we get older, do you not have room for an out-of-town guest for three nights? If you do and would love a place to stay in Park City come winter, send me a note. I’m happy to return a favor.

Happy 4th of July!

So, what I did on the 4th: NOTHING! After three days of pure play, I laid low. Ryan got a hall pass to party at the annual July 4 Parade on Park City's Main Street this morning. He called me at 4 p.m. trashed and wanted to get together. Anyone who knows me, knows that being around drunk guys when I'm sober ain't cool. I told him to enjoy the day; I was going biking with Stef and would watch the fireworks show tonight.
The trails are drying out and because I've got the raddest Specialized MTB- the Women's Pro-Stumpjumper- I am finally looking forward to rides around these here hills.
I almost went skiing to celebrate the holiday. Snowbird closes today but I couldn't find my pass. But I did haul Ryan up to Snowbird on June 26. He whined all the way. He complained that he was done with skiing. He “wanted to mountainbike. but yet again, Jill gets her way.” I told him that he could bike any old day this summer but how many times would he be able to ski? Unless he had a trip planned for New Zealand or South America that I didn’t know about, the answer was ONE. Today, June 26, 2005. We made it on-hill by the crack of noon. Skiers, boarders and sightseers in flip flops shared our tram space. Despite the infectious positive energy, Ryan still looked sore about not getting his bike ride. I reminded him that skiing is good for the soul; especially when it’s 75 degrees, reggae music’s wafting from the Plaza, you’re in a T-shirt and sunglasses and the snow still covers Great Scott. After 10 turns in Little Cloud Bowl, I saw that smile planted squarely between his reddening ears. The one that said, “Now what were we talking about?” The one that said, “What troubles?”
For just a few hours, we were sharing runs and forgetting the workload, the bills, the phonecalls we had to make, the bike ride that wouldn’t happen today. It was April in June; soft, spring-like corn snow on the upper trails and sticky mush as you approached Little Cloud chair’s tiny liftline. We even forwent the tram download, opting instead to ski/hike our way to the base for one last hurrah. The mud patches we squished through provided that reality check. Winter is over. Almost overnight the slopes will cater to wildflowers and hiking trails… and mountainbikers. We now have four months of sailing, rock climbing, kayaking, running and biking ahead of us. Season ski passes are already on sale at some resorts and a few eager (i.e. fanatical) ski freaks will use the summer months to cross train. Not me. Now that we have storage-waxed our skis and boards, forget about them for awhile and live in the moment. Our Utah summers are short. It’s time to hit the dirt!