Author: Kristina Watkins

I've worked in the corporate world and the small business sector. I was in luxury hotel hospitality, website development, internet marketing, and business management. But at some point, everybody decides they're ready to start living the life they've worked so hard for. For me, that life happens high in the mountains of Park City, Utah. Now, I specialize in helping other Gen X, Gen Y, and Millennials realize the dream they've sacrificed for. I help people remember: this is YOUR life. The landscape and recreational opportunities in and around Park City are almost a spiritual experience. Anywhere in town, I'm 5 minutes from a trail where I can escape to the wilderness. Cartoonishly gorgeous forests filled with aspens and tall old pine trees. I can hike or bike for miles and only notice a quiet deer or the whisper of the leaves. High up in the mountains and far away from the smog and pollution of the big cities, I can stand atop a rocky ridge and peer out across the landscape and breathe in the clean, crisp mountain air. I basically live in a coffee commercial. This is my life. Park City is a magical place, where all the montages from 1980s ski movies still happen. Where the first snow sets the town a flutter, whether you're a skier or not. Where I can pass pieces of the history of this western mining town just by strolling down the street with the dogs. The spirit and authenticity of this quiet mountain town attracts all sorts, but at the end of the day you have to ask yourself if the mountains speak to you. And if they do, maybe it's time to start thinking. Start thinking about your exit strategy from the life you were told you should have and start thinking about your entrance into the life you want to live. Don't forget: this is YOUR adventure.
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Magical, Magical Sugru

The only thing more fragile than an ego is a lightning cable. They must tolerate all manner of pushing and twisting and crimping so that we can use our iPhones every second we’re awake. And I don’t know about you, but mine seems to be made from tissue paper. (The cable.)

Which I why I love Sugru. It’s a self-setting rubber that you just roll between your fingers like Silly Putty and let it dry overnight.

Their website boasts all sorts of magical and useful tricks, like making rubber feet, comfort handles for your faucet, pulls for your zippers, repairs on your dishwasher. You can open up a few packets and wrap it around a ski pole, then grasp it firmly and TA DAH! A custom ski pole handle. Honestly, the only thing I’ve used it for is fixing those damn iPhone charger cables. Firstly because if it fixes that and only that then it’s a winner in my book. Secondly because I put the remaining multipack someplace so special and secret that it has apparently left the mortal realm.

But back to what it can do for your idiot phone charger. When my cable insulation started to split we pulled open a little packet of magic stuff, rolled it into shape and mooshed it on.

sugru-1 You should know the red will turn your hands red, the blue will turn your hands blue. It’s fine, it washes off. And it’s a lot more difficult to get a smooth, beautiful application than it looks. I don’t know what they used in their videos to make it so nice-looking but I’m sure it’s the same reason your gourmet hamburgers don’t look as good on instagram as Bon Appetit’s do. (A staff.)

We applied our Sugru patch almost a year ago and what would have been another trashed lightning cable became good as new. So when a new split started to emerge below the Sugru patch, I was disappointed but mostly grateful that I’d bought myself so many more months out of the cord. And I’m sure I can just apply another patch below the first one and it’ll work just fine.

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Now if I could just find the rest of the multipack I’d be in business again.

*This post features affiliate links; please see below for the Affiliate Links Disclaimer.

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On Autumn

Fall in Park City is brief. Unpredictable. We have a dozen hot days and then one morning it’s freezing and we can’t remember how the furnace works. Next we have six or eight cold days and then it hits 85 and we all get sunburnt. Dressing ourselves is a struggle. On the first day of fall we ceremoniously parade out our fleece jackets and our knit sweaters, giddy about the soups and stews we’re going to make. And by that afternoon it’s so hot we wish we hadn’t boxed up the golf clothes and the last thing our damp hands want to touch is that godawful fleece.

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Autumn snowstorms erupt out of nowhere. The morning starts out innocent enough, with just a bit of a charge on the air. Lunchtime is warm and we all linger on outdoor patios, drinking our beers and white wines and eating salads. By the afternoon, however, the sky is dark. Vengeful. And by morning there is a dusting of white on the mountain tops and a feeling of panic sets in as we all wonder where in the world our windshield scrapers got off to.

The first snow brings out the contrast in the fall colors. The aspens turn brilliant gold except for a special few spots on the hilltops where the soil is just so and instead they turn as red as any maple. If you’re very lucky you can find red scrub oak and yellow aspens at the same time, dotted around the dark green pine trees. The elk and deer, coyotes and lap dogs start to lose their dark summer tones. We wear oranges, and browns, and deep dark reds, and hope to make time in our busy schedules to head to the mountains and see the leaves. We know. We all know. The leaves will fall. It may take another month and we have plenty of time, or it may happen tomorrow and we’re out of luck. The foliage is not something that we can count on for long. The foliage…is a metaphor.

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And it’s not even an interesting one or one that presents any kind of epiphany when we recognize it. It’s an absurdly obvious testament to the delicacy of a season. The months keep walking, the years keep running, and we decide what to slow down to see as the world turns. But there is always Something else we could be doing. Something Very Important. And when that Thing is done there is another Important Thing to see to. And before you know it you’ve done Many Important Things but everything and everyone around you suddenly looks old. All the leaves have fallen. Fall has come and gone you weren’t watching.

The Things can live without you. Go for a drive. Hold hands with someone. Press your nose into your dog’s head. Stand outside with arms stretched wide, with the sun on your face and breeze in your hair. Pay attention.

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Because someday none of the Things will matter at all and you’ll wish you’d spent more time looking at the leaves.

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Call for Submissions – 10/15/16 Deadline

It’s that time again! Our winter Collections Magazine is coming up, and the deadline has been announced to reserve space: October 15, 2016. This gorgeous full-color coffee-table magazine showcases our listings state-wide, local information, and articles about the Sotheby’s Auction House and collections.

In order to reserve space in this fabulous bit of marketing, we need to have your property listed by October 15, 2016. (We may be able to withhold it from the MLS for a short while if you’re still working on interior projects, decluttering, etc., so see me for details.)

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October 2016 Newsletter

Newsletter time again! Click below to read October’s edition, featuring snow in Park City, listings coming to market, classic cars coming onto the RM Sotheby’s auction scene, and some very cool auctions at Sotheby’s (a complete Dodie Thayer dinnerware set!).

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French Fries at the Boneyard

FRENCH FRIES ONLY NEED SALT STOP

THEY STAND ALONE STOP

ROSEMARY PARMESEAN GARLIC TRUFFLE OIL ETC IS A CRUTCH STOP

SERIOUSLY STOP

END TRANSMISSION

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I got these spuds at the Boneyard, which is a very popular bar/wine bar/restaurant. Or something. There are two different menus and like four different dining areas and it’s all very confusing and I like to meet people there and arrive late so they can tell me where the hell to sit.
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But it is extremely cool inside. There are a thousand and one photo ops. boneyard_fries-2

This is one of the bars. I approve of the brick, exposed ductwork, the periscope cupholder thing at the bar bar, and those studded chairs. Lovely and comfortable. Dear saloon owners: barstools need to be comfortable. If they are not, people will not linger and order more overpriced cocktails.

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And here is another bar. The wine bar maybe? It’s a little less busy than whatever other bar I was in but those turquoise chairs and black and white checkered floor just slay me. boneyard_fries-3

The menu I think we ordered off of is a bit more uppity than the gastropub concept of the twenty-aughts. Yes there is a cheese dip but it’s walnut encrusted baked brie. Yes they have a Caesar salad but it has brussels sprouts in it.

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They brew their own iced tea, which is nice. And they served me fake sugar and Sugar in the Raw, which is less nice. Sugar in the Raw is delicious and crunchy sprinkled on sugar cookies or mixed into hot coffee. But in a cold drink you may as well just throw gravel into your cup and pretend it tastes sweet. Though I stirred my iced tea five thousand times much to the dismay of my table-mates, drinking it was bitter bitter bitter bitter gritty sweet. P.S. Saloon operators: if you serve iced tea you also need to serve finer-ground sugar.boneyard_fries-7

But it is a light, fun place to have a beverage with other adults or to blow off steam after work. There are TVs with Sports! but it’s not overwhelming. Nor is the music or overall sound level. You can come have a good time, have a conversation and leave without feeling like you need to take a shower when you get home.

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The fries are perfect, but a little difficult to get. The Boneyard sells “herbed pomme frites” which are dusted with rosemary. They also sell “house-made french fries” with truffle oil and asiago. You have to ask for PLAIN DAMN FRIES. Considering the dipping sauces, I think these ended up as the Herbed Pomme Frites without the Herbed. Just be super clear, all you want are plain french fries: potatoes cut up, fried until brown, and salted.

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AND YOU WILL BE REWARDED. These are fantastic. They are exactly the same as if you cut them up at home and fried them yourself but without all the grease in the air. Delicious. Go just for a plate of these. Go for two. Two plates of plain fries and a beer please and maybe my companions are here somewhere but I can’t find them and well, they can order their own.

Whatever you’re doing, keep it simple. And do it better than everybody else.

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On Social Media

imagereader-aspxI love social media. I love creating content. I love the unwritten rules that you only pick up on when you’ve been around a while. I use hashtags on Twitter as ironic commentary since only #brands use them seriously. I save certain photos to post on Instagram because they don’t particularly have a point, but the lighting might be good. And I always write two different versions of a joke because Facebook is a fickle mistress. But for all of this, I do wonder what what has happened to my brain and more specifically, my attention span.

Rather than presenting posts in the order they were created, platforms now present posts that Skynet thinks you’d like to see most based on your past behavior, which is a smooth-talking avenue for delivering targeted advertising. As such, I’ve become a curmudgeon. On Facebook I willfully refuse to interact with posts, and rather than just scrolling past, I take the time to click “hide this post.” Hide that post. Hide those posts too. So now my algorithm is pretty much just exciting cars and Bon Appetit articles, which has vastly improved my experience. Twitter is one of the few with an intact timeline, and it used to be loads of fun and a great avenue for storytellers but lately it’s all apocalyptic warnings of the upcoming election and “how to stock your food storage” articles, which falls under the same category.

I’ve read—in short bursts—that because of this constant exposure, we can’t concentrate for more than a tweet, 140 characters, which you can read in about 2 seconds. Human beings, with the largest brains and the greatest capacity for creative thought of any creature on Earth now have the attention spans of goldfish. I find that once I’ve checked the timelines of all my platforms, I’m going back and looking at the first one over again to see what I’ve missed while I was checking the others. And we wonder why we all seem so on edge and antsy all the time. We’re constantly at the ready for the next quick thing to react to.

To combat this I’m reading a thing called a “book.” Do I remember books? Those paper things I used to burn through, cover to cover, everything I could get my hands on, hundreds of tweets long. Books. Except this time they’re digital and readable on the little black monolith that fits in my pocket and runs my life because let’s not go crazy with that cold turkey business. So far, so good. Now, when I’ve made the first social media loop, instead of going back I just open my book and read a few pages. One congruent story, in one voice, with a singular cadence and no images but the dusty stick figures my lazy, out-of-shape imagination can shake out.

And decidedly ad-free.

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Lola’s Street Kitchen

A fun thing I get to do is visit a lot of open houses. A LOT. Last Wednesday I clocked 47 flights of stairs on open house day. And some days the refreshments are a pile of baby carrots, and other days they are fully catered, and on special days, with a foodtruck. This is the story of such a day.

Lola's Street Kitchen 1 At the Lodges at Snake Creek open house (this is a cool project that is finishing completion in Midway, we’ll talk about this more later), they brought in Lola’s Street Kitchen to keep everybody sustained through the tour. Lola’s is a local truck out of Heber, and you can usually find them in the Dottie’s Kolaches parking lot or the Day’s Market parking lot (check their social media for updates). Despite the tendency of food trucks to cave into overly stereotypical and done-to-death recipes*, I am still a sucker for them. Continue reading “Lola’s Street Kitchen”

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Being a Leafer in Park City

We are coming on that quick and gorgeous time of year when you must go enjoy the fall colors. Here are three quick and easy Instagram-bait locations to do just that.

Being a Leafer in Park City-6 1. This is Town Lift. Go here, take this picture. Grab a beer at the Bridge and eat on the deck. hashtag burgerlife.

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This is what lives under the snow of the ski bridge over Park Ave. Grass! And a sidewalk and some of the most delicious views of the mountain, the chairs and historic Old Town.

Being a Leafer in Park City-7 I just can’t get enough. Another beer please.

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2. When you’re done, drive up Royal Street. Pull over everywhere you can and breath in the mountain air.

Being a Leafer in Park City-3 Try not to sing John Denver too loudly though, unless you think there might be a moose in the bushes.

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3. Then drive over to Park City Resort‘s base area and take a gander at this junk.

Being a Leafer in Park City-9 Hello, First Time, good to see you in full colors.

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Isn’t this a ridiculous place? And we are days away from the aspens turning brilliant gold as well. hashtag whatadump