Apres Ski

This afternoon Snowflake and I left the grotto and went up to the mountain. Looking down from the apex, the sun at our backs, enough blustery wind blowing out of the north to form small drifts, the young and old gracefully skimmed by with a gentle push from the lift.

Snowflake, snuggly cloistered in his seat stared out from the windows of our toasty Saab. He was mesmerized. I skied a few times when I was younger. It was at this midwestern hill that I took my skis off mid descent and walked the rest of the way down the hill. Earlier in the day I realized I didn't know how to skillfully stop and bareballed it down the hill skiing right over someone's skis until I crashed into the rail on the sundeck. Enough was enough.

I have higher hopes for Snowflake. We watched this little scene for about thirty minutes and then went to the base of the hill so he could see some real action. We found a parking space right at the entrance and hiked to one of the lifts. He was nothing but a cheeky googley grin from ear to ear. Little snowbunnies skied by and said "Hi Cutie!" to him. Needless to say he squawked like a crazed turkey as we left the scene. Next year I think I'll attempt to learn how to snowboard with him.

Snowflake suggested we go to a local Mexican joint for some guac. We had a nice little nosh and absconded just before he was about to go loco on his binge and purge routine. There's been some improvement. If I tell him that someone he adores disapproves of his behavior, he'll stop. Lately he's into my friends little girl who just turned nine. I say "You know, Thea thinks that's really sick when you do that." It may as well be Bitter Apple! Naughty lil' Mamma!

Whenever I eat pico de gallo, I can smell the onions immediately coming out of my pores. Maybe it's a vegetarian thing. It's like nasty B.O. and luckily I escaped getting fajita hair/head. Yay!

We were going to Sam's Club so it didn't matter. It's just an upscale Wal-Mart with fewer skanks and inbreds. I set out for Kashi TLC crackers and OJ. Per my lack of impulse control, $99.40 later I am 4 lbs of red seedless grapes, 2 - 300 thread count feather pillows, two bottles of Naked Juice, 216 1qt ziplock freezer bags, a big block of reduced fat Cabot cheddar cheese, a one pound bag of Hula Princess roasted salted macadamia nuts, a box of Hershey Kissables, two pints of fresh blueberries, and a club pack of Ice Mountain water richer. Oh, yeah, and OJ and Kashi crackers. God, I am so tight it hurts!

My sweet little crumpet is sleeping. I watched the beginning of the Superbowl and saw ABC's addy featuring Harrison Ford. My childhood idol, my sugary sweet crush. I was seriously contemplating naming Snowflake "Indiana Jo". Jo is my middle name and I thought it sounded so cool. I was so suprised to see how he's aged. I think I'm dreading my birthday. I don't feel my age whatsoever, but the number is looming like a guillotine over my head.

Life over the hill remains to be seen. Next year I want to be screaming down the hill telling the world to kiss my gorgeous, ageless, timeless happy ass, not sitting on it. For now I'll just be screaming.