Simplicity.

Rob and I spent a most blissful weekend in the delightfully charming city of Scipio. For those of you who are unacquainted with Scipio, I will educate you. Scipio is a tiny little town nestled in between Fillmore and Nephi in the heart of central Utah. However, I will venture to guess that several of you have heard of Scipio not only because of its funny name (it's pronounced "Sip-pio"), but also because it is a clean rest stop on the way down to St. George or Vegas.

With approximately 300-ish residents, Scipio is quiet, it is relaxing, and it is the epitome of rural. I admit that Scipio is not much to look at. Dotted with dilapidated houses, sheep farms, and dusty sage brush, it does not initially offer much in the way of scenery. But if you look closer, and actually spend a weekend in this sleepy little town I guarantee that you will soon become enamoured.

Picture a place where you fall asleep to the sound of crickets under a sky of full, bright stars. The sky is smogless and smokeless and when you wake up it is to the sound of busy lawnmowers, tractors, and morning roosters, instead of commuters. It is a place where kids sleep outside on cots in covered wrap-around porches, and roast marshmallows in the front yard. And everyone waves to everyone, regardless of whether you are a native or not. There are only a handful of businesses, no traffic jams, and no one locks their doors.

Scipio's charm lies in its nostalgia. To me, it reminds me of my childhood and the stories that I used to hear about a safer, kinder, and slower America. More importantly, for us, Scipio is a place where we pry ourselves away from our computers, tvs, and cellphones and enjoy just being. And after a busy couple of weeks at work we were desperate for being time.

We ventured down to Scipio Friday night after work and did not return until this afternoon. Usually, we share the Koelliker bungalow with Rob's family (his parents have owned a house down there for over twenty years and are a Scipio staple), but this time we had the place to ourselves. We took advantage of the silence, and relished sleeping abnormally long. We took long walks on dusty roads, watched the triumphant Jazz, and even took a successful excursion to hunt antiques (my new Parisian scarf is a $3 find) in Richfield. In short, it was a perfect weekend getaway.

Because when we go to Scipio, life slows down.