One of the women at the table replied, "Just write about something you did or something that happened to you this week."
As I mulled this over, I lamented that problem with her suggestion is I did not do anything special this week, nor did anything special happen to me.
The remodeling project is done, meaning hopefully so are my trips to The Home Depot. Nobody pissed me off any more than usual. I did not encounter any inconsiderate punks on the mountain. My dogs are still accounted for. I still despise Fox News. The laundry is folded. It's been a pretty uneventful week. At least by Park City standards.
Everywhere else in the world, my week is probably considered jam-packed with wild and crazy adventure and endless amounts of fun. After all, I skied, had lunch with friends, hiked with the dogs, swerved my car on Deer Valley Drive to avoid hitting a moose as it crossed the street, went to a show at the Eccles, went to the gym a few times, signed up for a mountain-bike race in Moab, cleaned out a closet, bought a new couch, made plans for an upcoming trip to Croatia and volunteered at a local nonprofit.
You know, nothing special.
In reality, a week like this can only be considered status quo and nothing special in a place like Park City.
The Follies brings together some of our town's best writers and performers each spring to act out the year's more divisive events. It's two-thirds comedy and one-third musical with a heaping tablespoon of parable on the side.
Typically, the Follies poke fun at the newsmakers of the year. Realtors have taken their fair share of knocks, as have the city and county councils. The Canyons inability to open a golf course is a reoccurring theme. As are Park City's many nonprofits, off-leash dogs, and the schools. The town's more notable and eccentric personalities usually get a mention, if not the lead role.
Having been part of this production in the past, I can tell you that despite this year's theme, "Nothing Special," it is indeed something very special. I'm always amazed at the talented people who spend months working on the script and the performers who donate dozens of hours of their free time in hopes the audience will get a chuckle. They give so much just to give back to the community they love.
As I conversed with friends over lunch on Sunday, it dawned on me how this year's Follies really is art imitating life.
"I have nothing to write about, nothing special happened this week," I complained when I could think of nothing to fill this space in the paper.
And then it dawned on me — just the night before I had sat in the audience and watched a performance about how nothing really is quite something in a town like Park City. So much so that you might even need a permit for it.
We've gotten so accustomed to parades and costumes and galas and themed parties and fundraisers and road closures and special events that, in a week when those things are still in the planning phase and not yet the happening phase, it seems like, well, like nothing special is happening.
Which of course is never the case in Park City.
If you have tickets for one of this weekend's shows, I won't spoil it for you. But I will tell you this: As always, it is a great show. As always, the performers and creative team pour their heart and soul into it — their only reward is your laughter. And as always, even in a rather uneventful year (or in my case, week), there's something very special about the way nothing happens in Park City.
Amy Roberts is a longtime Park City resident, freelance writer and the proud owner of two ill-behaved rescue dogs, Boston and Stanley. If you have a story idea, please e-mail her at firstname.lastname@example.org.