OCR Text |
Show Jft . : wf'rTW Sitiriilk sa Vennn r45& fk'iP Teri Gomes Foggy thoughts on a rainy night It was a dark and stormy night ... (It's so hard to improve on great writing like that.) Sunday night, or more accuratley, early Monday morning, morn-ing, we were treated to an unexpected light show in our very own bedroom. As the storm raged outside our window in the early morning hours, flashes of light as bright as a group of 100-watts filled the room. The thunder followed only a breath away and managed to shake objects on the dresser. It was difficult to sleep. There is state of being however, somewhere between fully awake like you feel after your first cup of coffee in the morning and fully asleep which is rather akin to a comatose state. It is safe to say my mind was wandering and I was only partially alert. I tried to remember a storm of this intensity since I have lived in Utah. I could not. In a semi-conscious state I remembered a similar storm when I was about eight. My grandparents owned a three-story beach home by San Clemente in California. The third story contained a huge picture window which overlooked the ocean. I remember the thunder, and the lightening, but mostly I remember the waves spraying the huge window. I was certain the morning would find us all washed out to sea. For a brief moment the other night, when the rain was spraying our bedroom window, I was that little girl again, afraid of the storm. And to keep occupied I tried to think of things for this week's column. (Look, you already knew writers were a strange It t, didn't you? Why count sheep when you can count deadlines? ) In my foggy mind it seemed there was some little item I wanted to include in-clude about Gary Cole getting my golden boot award. For the first time since I have known Gary to be involved with musicals which require dancing he got every step right the other night in the musical review "How the West Was Sung." And he did it without causing bodily harm to any of the other dancers. I wanted to remember to say something about that. Also, I thought there might be . something in the fact all the doctor's wives at the clinic are currently pregnant and within two weeks of one another. Nancy Winn, Jane Sch-wenk, Sch-wenk, and Jane Evers, congratulations. Either those doctors had some party or they all were able to count on a night when Dr. Barnett was going to be on call. Then thinking about the doctors, I knew two had plans to run in the Desert marathon that morning. (Evers and Schwenk). I wondered if the nasty weather would cancel the race. (It didn't and the Park City runners run-ners Julie McKay, Bob Wilkenson and Rolf Sandberg, along with Tom Schwenk, Sch-wenk, completed the race. Running the last 10K were Gary Cole and Phil Thompson, who were spotted giving encouragement to their fellow runners.) run-ners.) I could always mention who was traveling this weekend. Ann and Mac MacQuoid at a bed and breakfast convention con-vention in Napa, California, and Gloria Johnson and her lady friends in Aspen. Then I had this nagging feeling I was forgetting something I had thought needed to be in. I remembered. Robbie Beck, assistant marketing director at the Park City Ski Area, is marrying "Cowboy" next summer. Cowboy's name is not, as previously recorded in this column, Craig, but rather Jim. I apologize, but I think any cowboy past the age of 18 should perhaps consider calling himself Cowman. It's just a thought, and a foggy one at that. As the storm died down the only thing which struck a vein with me was to pull the covers up tighter under my chin and play Scarlett. "Oh, fiddle dee dee. I'll just think about all that tomorrow." tomor-row." And you know, that's still how I feel ... |