Perfect is as perfect does.

Lately, I keep finding the word “perfection” on the tip of my tongue.

My bowl of Potato-Shrimp Chowder was perfection. The salty-sweet combination in the Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies was perfection. The weather the other day was…perfection. 

The word “perfect” brings with it some pretty high expectations: being entirely without fault or defect, says Merriam-Webster. FLAWLESS. I’ve written about the illusion of perfection before. We all know a perfect anything rarely exists, and personally, I’m definitely flaw-FULL. But for some reason, I keep coming back to that word.

Yesterday was a perfect excellent example.

John spent the morning golfing, so Cholula and I hit the trails. I felt so lucky to live here after our hike the night before. So after my coffee fix, we drove over to Summit Park. My co-pilot looks suspicious, don’t you agree?

Remember when we tried to take her on this trail the last time, and ended up rescuing Petey? John and I had revisited it after that, but Cholula hadn’t been back. She loved this trail.

I had selected these trails because I wanted to get up into the vibrant fall foliage I’ve been seeing across the valley from our home. I’m still unfamiliar with the Park City trail system, but vaguely remembered The Road to WOS being a loop. So I followed the sign.

It’s a quick uphill, right from the trailhead, and then there’s a series of long switchbacks through the pines. The trail was perfectly nicely tacky after a couple of evenings of rain, but not muddy. The almost-dampness kept us cool in the shade.

The trail was shady for 90% of the time, with little pockets of sunshine here and there. I caught glimpses between the pines of the view toward our neighborhood.

About an hour into our hike, we met a woman who was with her daughter and three dogs. I confirmed that yes, The Road to WOS was a loop that would take me right back to where the car was parked. I was a little less than halfway. As the dogs romped, she indicated that the trail I was currently on was the correct one- it was her usual running loop. As I was wrangling Cholula from her new friends and continuing on, she casually pointed toward a smaller trail, saying that this one would deliver me to the same place in a shorter period of time, but was much steeper. “We just got done doing that one,” she said, smiling at her daughter, who was no more than 8 years old. “It’s fun!” And off they went, happily skipping down the trail.

I had a choice. Take the longer, easier trail or the shorter, harder one. I usually would have taken the longer route. I was in no hurry, after all. But I was feeling great, and wanted to get more exercise. Plus- let’s be honest- an 8 year-old little girl had just finished the steep one. Talk about motivation.

UP we went.

I had flashbacks of the challenging trail to Clayton Peak. Only, parts of this trail felt even steeper. I started to feel bitter toward the little girl, for whom a casual jaunt up this beast was easy. Instead of making up mean names for the innocent child, I dug deep to find my Inner StairMaster Goddess. (She really, really wanted to stay buried.) I kept my head up and silently (I think) chanted “honeymoon bikini booty, honeymoon bikini booty” until I reached the top. High five!

From there, the trail evened out again, through the pines and sometimes through the red-orange scrub oak. Like I did on Clayton Peak, I felt incredible! Hmmm. There seems to be something to this.

One thing I was enjoying on this hike was the quiet. Despite the 10-12 cars parked at the trailhead, I saw very few hikers or bikers. I could hear the birds singing, a couple of woodpeckers keeping the beat. It was mostly just me and my favorite Squirrel Huntress.

As we descended the trail, we passed a big water tank and an old utilities building. We followed the signs toward the trailhead from The Road to WOS and paused to say thank you to the last few summertime flowers.

I paused at the trailhead to take a look at the map that I had walked right past at the beginning of my hike and determined that the route I had taken was about 3 1/2 miles.

I drove home with the windows down, the wind blowing my hair as I sang along to the radio.  My body felt great, and I a worn-out, content puppy sleeping in the passenger seat. I mean, the whole morning was screaming the word “perfect” to me.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This day wasn’t over yet.

John has some credit up at Snowbird Resort, so on a whim, we thought we’d see if they had any availability that night. Within a couple of hours, we had Cholula set up with a playdate for the evening and were driving up Little Cottonwood Canyon.

We managed to get checked in just in time for a massage at the Cliff Spa, followed by a soak in the rooftop jacuzzi. I just love the view from there, searching the crags of Mount Superior for mountain goats.

A couple of my favorite things about staying at a hotel are the mini bath products (which immediately went into my travel bag to take home) and the plush robes. Decadence!

Sufficiently relaxed and gussied up, we headed to dinner at the Aerie. I just love how they arrange the sandwiches into the shape of a heart. (It’s probably supposed to be Snowbird’s logo, but I see a heart!)

We took our dessert to go: s’mores cheesecake (what?) and a glass of milk. John had also snuck a baggie of Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies in his overnight bag. (He has dubbed them his favorite cookies EVER.)

Yes. I think I may have been overusing the word “perfection” lately. But you know what? If the word fits, USE IT. I can’t think of a better way to describe a day like yesterday.

Besides… if it feels perfect, it probably is.