After years of talk, we finally walked the walk and went on our first backpacking trip ever. It almost didn't happen when I saw the weather forecast - thirty percent chance of showers. But the kids were adamant that we go and we had already invested a lot of time in packing. So, I put aside my concerns and threw a couple of large plastic garbage bags into the packs as makeshift ponchos as we set out for the High Uintas.

By the time we drove to Ruth Lake, the afternoon sky had grown dark with thunderclouds, but by now we had gone to far to turn back. We put on our packs, the kids swaying under the unaccustomed weight, and set out for the trail, somewhat breathless from the 10,000 foot altitude.

"Just a passing shower" I said, as the first drops began to fall some fifteen minutes into our hike. After another ten minutes, we heard distant thunder, and the rain began falling in earnest. We managed to get our makeshift ponchos on before getting totally drenched. When we finally reached the lake, it began to hail and we were relentlessly pelted by pea size projectiles of frozen ice. Flashes of lightning in the distance added a dangerous undertone to our circumstances.

As we settled on a location to set up camp, the span between the lightning and the thunder became shorter and shorter, signaling that there was even more to come. Fortunately, we had the three tents assembled quickly before we were completely soaked to the bone. Like prairie dogs, we ducked inside our shelters as the storm raged overhead. The "passing shower" lasted more than an hour with torrential rain and continuous booming lightning.

When the rain receded, I crept outside, looking for dry wood for a fire. I managed to collect an armful of relatively dry twigs and sticks and set to work at our fire circle. Fortunately, I was able to get a sturdy blaze going, drawing the rest of the family out of the tents. We slowly dried out around the fire as the clouds drifted away and the evening sky quickly settled in. As clouds gave way to brilliant stars, we had dinner. Our steaming hot pasta with marinara sauce had never tasted so good.

Spirits were high as we talked around the fire about plans for our next backpacking trip. Everyone agreed that we should try to go for two days. But next time, we would have our tents up early, before the afternoon thunderstorms arrived.

We went camping last week. It was our first big camping trip this year. In fact, it was the first family camping trip we've taken for a long time. We were a bit rusty and forgot some essentials but we had a great time.

One of my highlights was a Photowalking tour with Tanner. He set his alarm and woke me up early so we could take advantage of the morning light. We hiked together up a nearby fire road and talked about composition, lighting, and creativity as we took numerous pictures. It was precious quality time. The light was great too.

Last night we had barbecued pork for dinner. Delicious, succulent ribs. It was so good, we all had seconds. Except of course for ChiChi. She was content with her grilled tofu, topped with a savory soy and garlic sauce.

It's been more than six months since ChiChi decided to stop eating meat. It happened shortly after we arrived in Utah, while we were living in Temporary Housing. We didn't know about about her secret pledge but we noticed that she was not eating. Or rather, she was eating only the side dishes and not the meat.

Although she was unable to express her reasons for becoming a vegetarian, MrT pointed out that she had been mighty interested in the PETA literature that he had given to her during a recent visit to a local hip happening coffee shop.

More recently, she has allowed herself to eat fish. Sushi was the wedge, and now she looks forward to the evenings when we are having salmon or shrimp. After all, there are only so many ways that you can cook tofu.

Nevertheless, she's developed some sophisticated cooking skills and an appreciation of the harmony of spices. She is also much more deliberate in her eating and maintains a nice healthy diet.

She still doesn't talks much about her convictions as a vegetarian. She simply prepares her special tofu or beans or modifies the family main dish so that it is meat free. She does ask me for help when we barbeque though. That's when she gets to enjoy her tofu grilled. It's not easy to keep that soft stuff from falling through the grates. But it's the least I can do for this girl, and her powerful convictions.

Alta, the mountain where we ski, has already received 252 inches of snow this year. On our second trip to the mountain, we learned about having too much of a good thing.

Our ski day began as usual, with military precision. Cloths were laid out, skis were tuned, and my famous egg sandwiches were prepared for the drive.

As we set out, the roads were clear. The sky was slightly overcast but nothing remained of the storms we'd seen several days earlier. Traffic was light. It was going to be an easy trip.

I could hardly believe it when I saw the blinking lights at the chain control sign. I had heard that sometimes chain control remained in effect long after it was truly needed. Clearly this was the case, as the roads up the canyon were dry as a bone. I drove on, headless of the warning.

Big mistake.

A third of the way up the road we saw the first flakes. Within minutes, we had entered another world were engulfed in near blizzard conditions. The roads were covered with snow, it was steep, narrow and winding, and there was no place too pull over to put chains on. The traffic, consisting mostly of large 4x4's, had slowed. The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the onslaught. From time to time, I could feel the car loose traction on the increasingly icy road. My palms were getting sweaty despite the cold. We were still miles from the resort.

Fortunately, as the road became nearly impassable by our humble mini van, a parking lot appeared on the right. I pulled over and found a reasonably clear area to chain up. By the time I was finished, I was cold, wet, and frustrated. There is an art to chaining up a vehicle and it had been years since I had put them on. But I felt much more secure as we moved back into the traffic headed up the canyon.

It was at that point that we noticed that there was a lot of traffic headed back down the canyon. The snow seemed to have picked up. Nevertheless, we pressed on.

When we finally reached Alta, the parking attendant directed us past scores of cars, all covered with snow, to an empty spot directly in front of the lodge. A spot recently vacated, no doubt, by one of the cars headed back down the canyon.

We made our way inside, as the visibility outside decreased and the wind whipped at our faces. This was not going to be fun. Once in the lodge, we searched for a place to sit while we assessed the storm. It was crowded and there were no seats left. As we looked out the windows, the storm seemed to be picking up. The family next to us had just come in. They said the snow was terrific and seemed to be preparing to head back out. I wanted to give it a try, having worked so hard to get there. That's when we heard the announcement that the road to the valley would be closing soon for avalanche control. It would not open again until the late afternoon.

We decided to retreat and joined the stream of cars heading back down the road. As we headed down the mountain, we looked out at the snow that was falling, knowing that it would still be there next weekend. We would be back, unless of course, there was another blizzard. This is after all, the land of extremes. But, despite the hardships, it is also a place of magic and wonder. And we are determined to find the magic of Utah. And next time, I'll put the chains on early.

Shortly after our move, Robin and I started taking an early morning exercise class together. We were in the midst of trying to understand this town and feeling like strangers in a strange land. Robin was making a concerted effort to meet some of our fellow exercise participants.

One morning, Robin was chatting with the fellow next to her, a very cool looking dude with long hair and an easy manner. She asked him what he did for a living.

"I do a Christmas show", he told her. In fact, he had just begun laying the groundwork for this years show.

It was June.

Several months later, we began to see adds for "The Kurt Bestor Christmas Show". There he was in the add, the very same cool dude from the gym, hunched joyfully over a Grand Piano. Robin loves her Christmas music and immediately bought tickets for the whole family.

Turns out, Kurt Bestor is a favorite local son. He's been doing his little Christmas show for nineteen years and it's turned into a huge production. It takes place at a very large, gold gilded music hall serving crowds of people several times a day for a five day run.

When we arrived, we were surprised and delighted when the curtains opened on a full orchestra and a five piece band, all accompanying Kurt at his Grand Piano. Kurt was quite the showman, and we were treated to a host of seasonal songs, all with a surprisingly broad range of styles and arrangements. There was jazz, Caribbean, pop and traditional. Fun was had by all at this Las Vegas style holiday show for Mormons. Even I enjoyed it, despite being known in our house as a Christmas music Grinch.

We may have even begun a new holiday tradition. After all, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. At least for a Christmas show.

It's been over a year since that fateful day we got that dreadful email from the CEO. It was long, tediously written, and clearly vetted by lawyers and accountants. But it all boiled down to this:

"I've sold the company. You're all fired. Don't blame me, I had to do it. Oh, and I am going to be filthy rich!"

Ok, it didn't mention anything about the CEO becoming filthy rich, but that was assumed. As for the rest of us, the best we could hope for was a chance to go to "Indianoplace". But even that quickly disappeared as a possible consolation prize. In the ensuing months, it was repeatedly made clear that the acquisition was solely for The Drug and had nothing to do with our research, lest the lowball acquisition price be challenged by shareholders.

Those last months, as the company closed down, dragged on forever. Thankfully for us, I was enlisted to collate what little research was deemed of value and had several extra months of employment. So after almost everyone else was gone, I remained to wander the empty halls. It soon felt like an extended prison sentence.

From time to time, one of the other members of the "Transition Team" would bring in his dog and we would spend countless hours playing fetch with a Labrador retriever. It was a high point in our day. So, when my term was over, I was glad to move on.

Fortunately, I had several new job prospects to choose from. Before the layoffs were announced, I would never have guessed that I would be living in Utah. Needless to say, this area is not considered one of the "Biotech Hubs." But it's a safe harbor for now, and I'm lucky to have an opportunity to continue working my craft. And for now at least, I'm not getting any emails from the CEO.