I Say! Where Might YOU Be From? A Question of Pronunciation and Colloquialisms; What, What!

Awhile ago, I took a clickbait internet quiz to see where I was from based on how I spoke. Did I say, “Coke” or “soda” or “pop” for a sugary, carbonated beverage? “Ay-pri-cot” or “a-pri-cot” to describe a fuzzy fruit? “Rooooof” or “ruhf;” “crick” or “creek;” “malk” or “melk” or “milk…”

Photo by slon_dot_pics on Pexels.com

The neat thing about this highly-scientific and accurate test was that the designers included a map with a target-type graphic. Every answer I gave sent the reticule to one location or another around the United States. And, believe me, mine was flying all over. My saying one thing suggested East Coast; another said somewhere in the ocean; perhaps the program was trying for England? I felt a bit proud that I couldn’t be placed -probably a relic of my younger years when I really wanted to be a secret agent.

Recently, however, my friend corrected how I said, “Appalachian.” I’d learned to say the ‘a’ before the ‘chian’ with a long vowel sound: “A-ppa- lay-shan.”
“How’d you say that?” she demanded. “It’s ‘A-ppa-lah-shan.'”
I thought to correct her. This had to be an accent thing since she’s from The South. Then, I used my ol’ phonetic skills and thought, Ya know; I think she’s right

Still, I’ve heard how the newscasters have been throwing around, “Ne-vah-da” and “Or-eh-gone” lately. I can be smug in knowing those are “Ne-va-da” and “Or-eh-gun.” Right?

Photo by Stephan Müller from Pexels

It’s true that certain regions pronounce certain locations a certain way. There’s good reason for that know-how with some of those. For example, I have no idea how to say, ‘Worcestershire.’ Of course, visitors to Utah are sure to butcher ‘Mantua’ or ‘Tooele.’ Do you know how to say them?

Besides honing my spy skills further, I’m curious: what are some strange names of cities or landmarks near you? What are some odd ways your community pronounces some everyday words?

—————-

Here’s my postings for the past week:
Monday, December 28: Wrote “Re-Resolution” in the early morning hours, then posted a quote that might be by Mother Teresa.

Tuesday, December 29: Shared “We-Resolution” to encourage more humorous limericks.

Thursday, December 31: Wrote another update on Coronavirus life at home. You know, now that I’m not at home so often.

Sunday, January 3: Poemed whilst in a dismal mood. Cancer sucks.

Monday, January 4: Shared a quote by Glennon Doyle.

Tuesday, January 5: Wrote yet another bad limerick. You all need to enter the A Mused Poetry Contest to put a stop to them!

I also posted random thoughts of mine on my motherhood site.

©2021 Chelsea Owens

12/31/2020 of COVID-19 Home Life

I’ve not written about Coronavirus updates in awhile, I’ve thought for a few weeks. As I sat to type one up just now, I realized this is the last day of the dreaded year 2020. How appropriate.

Like many, many others, I reflect back on this year. Truth be told, today is not the only day I have reflected. Even before Coronavirus, I marveled at where I had come in only a year’s time; for, if you are a follower of my blog, you know that I learned I was pregnant in April of 2019 whilst attending ‘school’ whilst maintaining a few blogs whilst helping our family side business to run.

COVID-19 changed many things. At this point, however, it’s only a factor for us in how it’s affected our children’s school experience and our family’s vacationing and visiting abilities. My pregnancy resulted in a sweet, healthy boy who is now a year old. I barely keep up on any blogging. The side business is BOOMING to the point that we were 1700 orders behind on Etsy at one point…

I guess there’s something to be said for marrying a computer programmer and producing a family of introverts. We’re healthy homebodies.

Local news-wise, Utah’s Coronavirus daily infection numbers are similar to other states. I think. They reached an all-time high of 4611 on November 19 but yesterday’s report (December 30) was a mere 2602.

I don’t know what experience others are having but the COVID Climate here is somewhat casual. We still mask in public. I have the children change their clothes and wash their hands after school. There are no samples at Costco, no free candy baskets at the bank, no free popcorn or soda at the oil change store, no handshakes at business deals, and no Charmin toilet paper or Clorox wipes or pure almond extract at the store.

You know times are tough when a person can’t even get almond extract.

©2020 Chel Owens

I do not like these measures, especially when I drop my children off at school and watch tiny Kindergarteners heading in past their tiny playground with a giant mask obscuring their tiny face. I feel Coronavirus to be a skulking shadow. It’s like the cancer eating away at a close relative of ours; something we know is there, something we need to be constantly aware of, something to FEAR to the point that you do not help that old lady load her groceries or that man who dropped his wallet or that child who needs a hand to hold to search for his mommy in the grocery store…

My fearful Twofacebook friends post worrisome statistics about spread and new strains, but also happy news about the new vaccine -some have even gotten it.
My over-it Twofacebook friends post family pictures and occasional articles on the virus’ restrictions affecting our mental health, but also warning news about the new vaccine -they will not get it if they can help it.

Photo by Artem Podrez on Pexels.com

Still political. Still divided.

But, it’s the holiday season! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I didn’t make my traditional plate of cookies for my neighbors this year. I opted for a neat luminary tin full of Polish chocolates I found at a European Market store in Salt Lake City. To my surprise, several neighbors and friends did gift us homemade items. We received bread, chocolates, brittles, and peppermint bark.

The best gift of all? A container of Clorox wipes. Don’t tell; I don’t want to get raided.

From Clorox.com‘s site. Good luck finding this golden ticket.

There is FEAR and a good reason to FEAR, if you are being reasonable about it. At the start, I shared the feelings of paranoia that many still feel. I told my children not to answer the door or touch the incoming packages and mail. I left them home with Kevin when I went shopping –if I went shopping.

Now, I am simply careful. I do not lick shopping carts or gas pumps. I wear my mask in public areas. I also shared Christmas with my parents, sister, and her family. We ate together and visited and *gasp* hugged. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?

So, be careful. But, be reasonable. If you’re healthy and haven’t had someone lick you lately, you’re probably fine to hug a grandchild. And if that gives you the heebie-geebies, wash your clothes afterwards. And your hands. But, as Clorox advises on their website, don’t start drinking bleach…

Also from Clorox.com‘s site. It’s a warning that pops up, to cover their legal assets.

What’s daily life like for you? Are you fine sticking around? Heading out now and then? Hugging anyone?

—–

©2020 Chel Owens

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Carols…

My very busy, important, famous-author friend, Stephen, wrote a blog post about popular Christmas songs. He admitted to his liking “Fairytale Of New York” by The Pogues and “Don’t Let The Bells End” by The Darkness (plus a nod to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is Yoooooooouuuuuu”).

This set me to thinking: what are my favorites? I’d mostly considered the ones I don’t like, since the radio’s inundated with any artist who’s produced anything with “Christmas” or “gifts” in the name in order to get some air time. (By the way, that includes “Christmas Shoes.” I liked it the first time; ONLY the first time.)

Favorites, though? Hmmm. I’m a traditionalist, so I really like The Nutcracker or Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” I’ll get jazzier with “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” (Brenda Lee) but prefer the instrumental version of “Sleigh Ride.”

And then there’s my complete deviation from those with Manheim Steamroller’s “Los Peces En El Rio” and Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s “Carol of the Bells.” What can I say? My Christmas playlist is about as varied as my everyday one.

Still (still still), I’ll return, anytime, for an excellent choral version of any Christian Christmas carol.

What about you? What are your favorite musical numbers at Christmastime?

©2020 Chelsea Owens

What’s So Bad About Being a Karen?

I think I might be a Karen.

pexels-brett-sayles-2505970

If you don’t know what heinous sin this is, ‘Karen’ is a name people apply to busybodies, do-gooders, and -basically- annoying types who butt in to ensure you’re doing something correctly. If you look lost on the street, Karen might walk over (uninvited) to tell you not to loiter and exactly what destination you must see. Standing in the wrong place at checkout? Karen will set you straight.

Apparently, many do not enjoy this setting-straightness. They’d rather be left alone to their pitfalls and foibles and misconducts without helpful advice. Many even consider this meddling to be unhelpful. Can you believe that?

This is Reason One why I may be a Karen: I relate to the idea of ‘helping.’ I like the idea of correcting an incorrect world. I have, for example, added the necessary change to a teacher’s whiteboard lesson when she wrote their instead of they’re. When I took some classes toward college last year, the couple running the group mentioned how they will miss my “helping us to know the correct way to do things.” Ouch.

Reason Two for why I might fit this category is that I’ve noticed that I notice errors. I’m critical. I’m observant about defects or problems. In fact, I worked for a couple years as a Quality Control Technician. When reading something, my eyes are drawn to grammar or spelling errors. Yes; I am one of those people.

Tshirt

Sorry.

The good news is that I do not fit Reason Three: my being named Karen. My name is, honestly, Chelsea. My parents were not even going to consider naming me ‘Karen;’ more to the point, my mother thought I was a boy because I attached so much lower than my older sister…

I try to mask my Karenness. I will my expression to remain neutral at misspeakings or misspellings. When in public, I refrain from ‘helping.’ I genuinely care for people and mean well, though; so, what’s so bad about being Karen?

Wouldn’t you want one around?

—————-

It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so here’s a bit of what I did over the last week:
Monday, December 7: Shared a quote by Muhammad Ali.

Tuesday, December 8: Whipped up an awful example of an amusing poem.

Thursday, December 10: Whipped up another awful example of an amusing poem.

Friday, December 11: Winner of the A Mused Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Doug!

Sunday, December 13: Announced the next A Mused Poetry Contest. PLEASE ENTER a limerick about resolutions!

Monday, December 14: An inspirational quote from a book by Anne Lamott.

Tuesday, December 15: “Safer at Home Journal For My Kids,” by Kat of The Lily Café.

Wednesday, Date: Today.

I also posted random thoughts of mine on my motherhood site.

Photo Credit: Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels, and CafePress

©2020 Chelsea Owens

Muse-ical Mishmash

“No, Love, yeh can’ wrie-that!”

What?

“That bid abou’ ‘ow sad yer life is. I mean, people ken only take so much abou’ yeh ea’in’ yer toffee in the closet.”

I sit back, stuck. But, I felt inspired to write because I felt depressed. Wasn’t that-

“No, Love. T’ain’t ‘inspired’ – leastaways, not by me.”

Huh. Well… I had another epiphany, back when

Definitely not.” Harumph. “We’ll not be bringing politics out again.

But

“No ‘buts’ about it, young lady. No self-respecting writer would name a rant as ‘inspiration,’ either.”

I face another dead end as my cursor blinks in an empty page. What else can I write? Maybe poetry?

“Shtop rright therrre!”

But I only just

“I-yuh know what you thought to do, and I’ll have none of it! Poetrrry must flow frrom an experrienced poet, one bending a keen earh to catch everry whisperh Naturre drrips like rrainwaterh!”

My cursor-blink fades to a black screensaver. What next? I consider artifical inspiration, then recall the disastrous consequences the last time I attempted that. I certainly did not need a Dionysus-like ghost to join the growing crowd in my mind; I’d crack for good. There was only one option left.

“no.”

Excuse me? What? I feel a slight tingle, perhaps near my hippocampus.

“no. don’t. don’t give up. “

Who said that? I can barely hear you. I can’t even see you!

“i’m barely here, but i am here.”

Where? Who?

“way back here. i am your muse.”

Are you sure? You’re different than I expected. I mean, you don’t even have completely proper grammar- Wait! Don’t go!

“i’m sorry. so tired. but i am here; i am just not able to do much. yet.”

I feel panic. Well, what -what can I do, then? I obviously can’t write anything good without you! I can’t get anywhere near publishing!

“you’re fine and you know it. just keep trying. when you have more time, i’ll be ready. …readier.”

Wait! I -I didn’t even know you existed! And what do you mean about “more time?” How long? What should I do if I shouldn’t give up?

“few… years… more time… just… keep… writing…”

The tingle’s nearly gone. Wait! One more thing!

“yes?”

Who are all those others? Are they relatives of yours?

*sigh* “poseurs. don’t listen to them …unless it’s about politics. …or romance; you cannot write romance. au -au revoir.”

I’m alone -more alone. For a few minutes, I stare back at myself in the empty screen.

Oh, all right. I take a deep breath, tap a key to wake the computer, and start writing.

Photo by George Shervashidze on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

For Diana, who has a much more intimidating muse. Sorry I’m late.

Oh. Christmas Tree?

One December, our family room looked barren. Where a glorious, fresh, decorated Christmas tree usually stood, we had but empty carpet. This was strange, since my mother loved fresh pine trees and had insisted on one for years. She loved the smell, you see. That year, however, she couldn’t bring herself to do Christmas. I’d say it was Winter Blues or a Nervous Breakdown or whatever euphemism people preferred for describing Depression, but it was also that my brother and I fought like angry dogs while complaining about our difficult lives in wealthy suburbia while demanding expensive presents.

Facing the reality of a tree-less Christmas, we children called a cease fire. Enlisting the help of the only other licensed driver in the house (our father), my brother and sister and I set off to see what was available on a literal Christmas Eve.

Fortunately, we didn’t need to go far. At the point of commerce touching neighborhood, we saw that one of the businesses had donated their holiday decorations to the large dumpster out back. We drew closer. In the light of minivan headlights and father-held flashlight we saw them: a few skinny, short, still-alive Christmas trees.

“Let’s take them!” my sister said.

“They’re too small,” I claimed -or my brother; we share a similar optimism.

But we all knew we were short on options. We also knew we needed time to decorate, open our traditional pajamas, read Luke 2, and set out milk and cookies for Santa. Therefore, we took them.

And that is how, for our most memorable Christmas tree experience, we had three (rather dwarfish) pines in the place of honor. We looped the lights and tree skirt around them all, roping them like contestants in a three-legged race. We hung the ornaments where they’d fit.

And they smelled lovely.

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

Thanks to CalmKate of Aroused for the prompt!

Hey! It’s a Blog (and Life) Update

After crawling through pregnancy and limping through the newborn stage, I have emerged to be a whole, new Chelsea! This model is …a bit more overweight, a lot more tired, and barely has time to read and write.

She’s also taken up employment.

I work in a cafeteria. I applied for a cashier job and was hired at my son’s school. I don’t do much cashiering currently because every child gets free school lunch in America. The job has many perks: free food, free exercise, limited exposure to people, and unlimited latex-free work gloves.

I’ve taken the time I normally laid around the house; irresponsibly folding clothes, washing dishes, getting the baby out of the potted plants, finding shoes, reprimanding children, getting the baby out of the cleaning cupboard, picking up towels, washing pans, getting the baby off of the stairs, planning meals, balancing the budget, getting things out of the baby’s mouth, helping in the dice store, and cleaning cleaning cleaning- and put it to good use doing similar things in a more commercial environment that doesn’t have a baby crawling around.

After paying for day care, I bring home about $10 each day. I haven’t even learned what portion of that Uncle Sam will take; I don’t get my first paycheck till Thanksgiving. Maybe.

But, if you’re still reading, I doubt you clicked on this to learn about the intricacies of folding a towel after lunchlady work while using your foot to push the baby away from the stove dials as a timer goes off and dinner burns. The blog update part of this is that I need to cut back on posting. Frankly, I’ve gotten burned out by the dead-end that writing is for me anyway.

I’ve mentioned this before, I know. I need writing and I NEED this community. I also need sleep.

Here are the blog changes I will implement:

  1. The weekly A Mused Poetry Contest will take place once a month.
  2. I will occasionally answer prompts like Deb’s 42-word story, Girlieontheedge’s Six Sentence story, Carrot Ranch‘s 99-word flash, Colleen Chesebro‘s Tanka Tuesday, Esther Chilton‘s limericks, and maybe a Blog Battle or d’Verse.
    I recommend you check them out and enter, too!
  3. I’ll post COVID-19/Coronavirus updates if you’re interested. We’re now on a statewide mask mandate and all extracurricular school activities are cancelled for two weeks.
  4. Most importantly, I will read my friends’ posts whenever I get a chance.
  5. Even more most importantly, please know that I always mean the very best when I comment or write. I do not look to offend.
  6. I support President Donald J. Trump as I have our other elected leaders, and I dislike people saying offensive things about him (or any other political figure). Be civil.

If you’re still around after those announcements, here’s some cake:

Photo by Marta Dzedyshko on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

10/26/2020 of COVID-19 Home Life

Where to begin, where to begin?

I’ve actually been shopping; in person, walking through some stores, touching merchandise and credit card machines and shopping carts. When I have my phone with me, I take pictures of the COVID-19 warning signs. I marvel that, not only are things so different than they were for all my life and my parents’ lives and their parents’ …adult lives, but things are now different by the week.

When in Wal-mart, use what you have. ©2020 Chel Owens

Take shopping at Costco, for example. Waaay back in March when we were going to quarantine for two weeks, I witnessed strict distancing measures, hoarding customers, and the removal of germ-spreading elements like samples or the food court. Months later, when I returned, they’d hung partitions at the registers and signs about shortages. Weeks after that, we all needed to wear masks and only so many people could enter. Still more weeks later, the food court options returned but the tables did not. Lately, they’ve been handing out samples again.

Look, but don’t touch. Definitely do not taste. ©2020 Chel Owens

You know -sort-of.

Like a delicate flower unfurling in springtime, restrictions are being lifted as we return to the way social life was for the past 100 years or so.

At least, that is how many are behaving. I read about people renting venues for their parties if such venues try closing, about parents sending nasty e-mails if their children’s schools want to close, and about how masking children will limit their breathing and cause staph infections on their faces.

On the other side of this divisive coin; I read about how wonderfully China is doing at containing their numbers and curing their people, about what certain politicians are not doing to stop anti-maskers, and about parents nobly keeping their children home (but also complaining about how they are being forced into the role of stay-at-home-mother by MEN).

Meanwhile, Utah’s case numbers are rising rising rising. Like, up to nearly 2,000 new daily cases on October 22.

You’d think that both sides could at least agree on that, but they probably wouldn’t agree on a turquoise shoe, gold dress, or whether they hear, “Yanrel.”

*sigh*

As a moderate, I see both sides. I feel both sides. I’ve even taken to debating a few of my Twofacebook friends over some issues -namely, that China HAS TO BE LYING about their numbers, that the governor of Utah can’t do much more than ask nicely, and that masks do not block oxygen intake and kill our children.

*sigh again*

The main problem, as I see it, is too much of a good idea. Not spreading germs is good; dressing everyone in a HazMat suit is a bit far. Socializing is important to mental health; ‘dancing’ at a crowded club is an idiotic thing to do. Limiting children’s spreading germs is good; hours and hours and hours on a computer is turning my children into crabby monsters.

We’re not ready to unfurl like a delicate flower unless we are willing to house those with adverse reactions to Coronavirus in our own stubborn homes. Likewise, we’re not taking reasonable steps when we treat each other like lepers and won’t even wave when greeted. Haven’t y’all heard of a Happy Medium?

Yep; you’ve released the political in me. In terms of actual news: Utah’s case numbers are terrible. Almost all of the public schools are doing an amazing job of keeping areas clean, tracing exposure, and enforcing the laws. People are participating in sports, dance, and other extracurricular events. Many employers that run computer-based businesses are allowing workers to remain home. I see pictures on my Twofacebook page of families taking vacations and of preparations for trick-or-treating for Halloween.

Ah, Halloween… maybe we’ll leave that political discussion for another time.

Remove your hats, hoods, sunglasses, and animals. Keep the mask. ©2020 Chel Owens

How are things looking in your neck of the woods?

©2020 Chel Owens

Tour of Utah: Kennecott Copper Mine

Ever heard of the Grand Canyon? The Great Wall of China? The Greenhouses of Almería? They all (except The Wall) can be seen from space! And, so can another Utah destination: Bingham Canyon Mine.

Bingham Canyon copper mine, UT, USA: Rio Tinto, Kennecott Utah Copper Corp. Source: Spencer Musick (self).

I’ve always known it as Kennecott Copper Mine, an alliteration only matched by Kennecott Copper Corporation and Utah Copper Corporation at Copperton.

Tongue twisters aside, this pit is ENORMOUS. Dump trucks built for a giant’s playthings trundle down into the 0.75 mile-deep hole in order to excavate (still) “450,000 short tons (400,000 long tons; 410,000 t) of material” daily (Wikipedia). DAILY!

Back when I was a child, I went to the visitor’s center with a day care class. I remember being able to fit our group into a tire from one of those dump trucks they had on display, and remember the fear of standing so near the edge of so deep a drop.

Photo by Jay H on Unsplash

Kevin and I took our boys there a while back. We watched an interesting video about mineral extraction and processing. Like, did you know Bingham Canyon Mine is a ginormous pit because the copper exists as porphyry copper deposits? They have to dig up the dirt, sift through it, burn it, chemical it, burn it again, and send it off to buyers.

At the end, they have 99.99-percent-pure copper. They also have gold, silver, molybdenum, and by-product sulfuric acid. I’ve never learned so much about metallurgy in my life!

Like with all manufacturing, however, mine operations have not been great for the environment. Sifting ponds, runoff, and waste materials have contaminated the Salt Lake Valley’s groundwater. Chemicals released from processing damaged the health of nearby residents, historically. And, it’s kind-of difficult to ignore the fact that they’ve literally changed the landscape of that area -not just with the pit, but with what was in the pit:

What’s not to love about industry, right?

Seriously, though, the Kennecott Copper Mine is worth a gander if you’ve the time. It’s a short, 36-minute drive from Salt Lake International Airport to the visitor center. We went before they had a landslide in 2013; you can purchase interesting rocks!

Photo by Jim Witkowski on Unsplash. This is an old processing area, on the way to Tooele.

—–

On that note, here are the things I posted over the last week:

Wednesday, October 7: “Tour of Utah: Jordan River Parkway.” If you need some exercise, try it out.

Thursday, October 8: Wrote a sample poem for the A Mused Contest, “EH?

Friday, October 9: Announced the winner of the A Mused Poetry Contest, Fishman. Congratulations!

Saturday, October 10: Start of this week’s A Mused Poetry Contest! Send the over-proud hero plummeting with poetry!

Sunday, October 11: Responded to Di of Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge with “Dance Club,” and to Deb’s 42-word prompt with “A Surprising Escape.”

Monday, October 12: Responded to Carrot Ranch’s prompt in “A Dark and Stormy Man.”

Shared a quote by Joyce Meyer. Cactus hurt.

Tuesday, September 13: “Saint John City, Part 1.”

©2020 Chel Owens

Tour of Utah: Jordan River Parkway Trail

The Jordan River Parkway is pretty neat. -Not neat like ice castles or natural rock arches, but still neat. It’s a trail that runs nearly 50 miles; so, if you wished, you could start at Utah Lake* and walk till you reached the northwest bend of Salt Lake City proper.

©2020 Google Maps, and -hate to break it to you- this isn’t an accurate line of where the trail goes.

In fact, the trail doesn’t end in some random drop-off in Salt Lake. It becomes the Legacy Parkway Trail and continues on…

Pretty impressive.

Like with some other destinations I’ve mentioned, I’ve been to the Jordan River Parkway Trail. The funny thing is that I took the kids there, in either West Jordan or South Jordan (who named two cities that, anyway?), in order to go to a park. I only knew about the trail being there, not 20+ miles to either side of there!

Look at all I’m learning about my home state!

But that brings up another neat aspect of the trail: there are destinations like parks, access points, and BATHROOMS along it. The only downside I see is that the route travels through the flat, less-scenic, sometimes-hazy and/or gnat-infested areas of the Salt Lake Valley. Legacy Parkway is especially buggy since it skirts marshes and wetlands.

Still, a short or long stroll wouldn’t hurt. There’s a parking lot about ten minutes due East from the airport on I-80. From there, who knows where you’ll go?

—–

Here are last week’s posts:

Wednesday, September 30: “Tour of Utah: Ice Castles at Midway.” They’re cool. Literally.

Thursday, October 1: Shared my first fellow-blogger book review, with “The Sincerest Form of Poetry: Review, Q&A, and Book Release With Geoff LePard.

Friday, October 2nd-ish: Announced the winner of the A Mused Poetry Contest, Bruce. Congratulations!

Saturday, October 3: Start of this week’s A Mused Poetry Contest! Think up a witty poem for an anniversary card and turn it in before Friday morning.

Sunday, October 4: Put Pal and Kid on a dusty trail for Carrot Ranch’s prompt this week.

Monday, October 5: Shared a quote by Coco Chanel. Look for windows.

Tuesday, September 29: Responded to Hobbo’s Mystery Blogger Award. You can still answer my questions!

*The trail at least plans to run as far as Utah Lake.

©2020 Chel Owens

Jordan River Parkway photo © traillink.com
Walden Park photo © traillink.com