Face Palm

You know I like our quirky little city.  There's no real shopping and only precious few restaurants.  The library is pathetic but I really like the high school.  We are very literally in the shadows of a magnificent mountain range.  The lake is out the window, across the valley.  Sunsets are stunning and for living in a desert, there are a lot of trees and green grass. It is quiet, feels safe, and if you stay away from the outlandish and vitriol political arguments that happen on the community Facebook page, you can pretend it's peaceful too.

There was a hotly contested city council election (part of the craziness on Facebook).  One of the big issues was the roads.  Because they're terrible.  The first time Tabor visited he said he was afraid his truck was going to fall in one of the holes.  I grew up on a dirt road and I can't believe how bad these roads are.

I mostly gave the election a wide berth because civic duty or not, I'm really uninterested in people screaming at each other.  I don't know if the candidates that lost would have done better or not, but yesterday I got the mail and Pleasant Grove broke my heart a little bit.  Here's the letter:

I wasn't sad they were raising our taxes.  I was sad about the grammar.  And maybe it stands to reason.  At the high school, the sports teams are perennial champions, the performing arts are amazing, the math program has impressed me and my kids have been pretty happy with the history teachers.  Emma's French teacher is one of her favorite people in the world.

I haven't been very dazzled by the English teachers....