One fine day in August I was amazed to find myself arriving by car in Utah. Amazed, not because I was unaware that I had been driving for 3 days with a cat, 2 kids and a husband in a U-Haul truck behind us, but because with denial as big as mine I never believed it would happen.
As we reached the end of a windy road through a small canyon, and approached a fork in the road, we saw a sign that said:
N.Ogden ->
<- S.Ogden
Wow. S.Ogden. That was an appealing name for a town.
I don't know if in my highly educated and analytical mind I analysed which road was less traveled but it would be obvious to anyone dragging her feet out the door of the car to prevent forward motion that not only was S.Ogden likely to be soggy, there had perhaps been too many other people driving that route with reluctant passengers' feet dragging out of the car, which had just caused S.Ogden and the soggy road leading to it to become a mired mess of mud and muck.
That's why we chose to go to N.Ogden. Who knew what we might find there? Maybe people using their noggins in their dens. But that has made all the difference.
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