Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column calling our parents as soon as possible.
We’ve yet to settle on the right amount of calls to place to our parents in a given month.
Used to be, we’d talk once a week, Sunday nights, without fail. Then our lives got busier, the schedule fell apart and we ended up going weeks without touching base.
We love checking in with the ‘rents, but if it were up to them, we’d talk every night. And in that case, we might as well still live in their basement. We mean, we moved to Summit Up Land for a reason.
Still, it’s time. We’ve been out in the woods long enough, wondering aimlessly and tracking the path of the moon. Six messages have built up on our voicemail, the last one threatening legal action. A call must be placed … by us … to them.
Maybe you should do the same, before lawyers get involved.
Jane called in a Scum Alert!! Scum Alert!! She witnessed a black Ford Expedition drive through the crosswalk – as pedestrians were trying to cross – at the Village at Breckenridge Thursday afternoon.
How close was it, Henny Youngman might ask? Close enough that one of the crosswalkers was able to slap the bumper as the behemoth went by. The driver, rather unapologetically, responded to this by opening up his door, flipping the bird and spouting a few choice curses. Jane says she knows it was a local – he had WPB plates – which makes it even worse, in our book.
If it wasn’t going to affect us and all our good readers, we’d wish for $3-a-gallon gas prices to put the offender in the poor house. We’ll have to come up with some other devious karmic punishment instead.
Our thoughts on Friday about what all of us should do with this extra time, since there won’t be any winter sports left to keep us busy in a day or two here, touched a nerve with Jennifer Moroney.
“Hey, what if we all got together to relax by building a massive sand castle in Lake Dillon since we can’t sail?” she wrote in an e-mail. “Or if we get low on cash, we can start a business making rock gardens since the blue grass is dead?”
We like both those ideas, Jennifer. Summit Up Land could be the only place in the world with snowsculpting competitions in the winter and sandsculpting competitions in the summer.
Jennifer might have written more, but she had to run: “I’m out shopping for a new pair of thongs and sun visor!”
And speaking of the wise people all around us, a Summit Up Staffer reports he was sitting on a stool at a watering hole last night when the talk down the bar turned to which qualities would make the ideal president, a la your dreamed-up perfect mate.
One particular fellow described his perfect president as having Kurt Vonnegut’s mind, Dennis Kucinich’s foreign policy, Steve Martin’s sense of humor and the fashion style of Outkast’s Andre 3000. Now that’s a White House we could hang out in.
If you have a recipe for the perfect president, feel free to share it with us at email@example.com, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just hum “Hail to the Chief” on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out dialing …
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