Red Rocks

Good Day Sunshine

Waiting for the bus this morning, the product of a cloudless night, I was freezing. Six hours later when I left work (Hallelujah!) at 1:30, I could walk around in a t-shirt. The bus ride home was flooded with daydreams of the epic mason jar beverage I would consume upon arrival at my home while sitting outside soaking up some long-awaited Vitamin D.

Aviators, iPod, nail polish, bathing suit, and a mason jar filled with a delicious blend of juices, soda, frozen fruit (we are out of ice, sadly), and the rest of a bottle of Goslings accompanied me for my three and a half hours of no-atmosphere Colorado winter sun. Yes, a bathing suit. Yes, I have a sunburn. Yes, it was awesome. No Mom, I don't have any sunscreen.

Hey, if you can't ski...

What NOT To Do On a Powder Day

Catch an edge.

Catching an edge on skis, much like on ice skates, leads to outside forces pulling on your extremities in terrible ways. This is especially true when going fast, and is especially easy to do in powder. Well gosh darn it, I should have known. It is also a particular threat when old injuries are still nagging, and is rather embarrassing when the little gaggle of nice people stopped to help REALLY want to call ski patrol. Well, we all know that would never fly.

Skiing bumps on one leg is also rather precarious and inconvenient, as is trying to carry a helmet and poles while doing so. Perhaps I have learned my lesson, at least until tomorrow when I am sure to do this whole thing all over again.

That Most Decadent of Winter Treats

Hot Chocolate

2 Tbs Ghirardelli unsweetened cocoa
1 Tbs brown sugar
Milk
A splash...or two...or three...of Bailey's
Top with a dusting of ("true") cinnamon. It's spicier and accents the chocolate better.

I might need a second cup, and we all know how I can never actually finish a hot chocolate.


Inspired by skiing through falling snow and a crackling fire.

1001 Nights

Sitting on a couch, drinking a bottle of Sangiovese-Merlot-Cabernet Sauvignon (imported from Italy), listening to Surrealistic Pillow. Homemade pasta with we-don't-have-a-food-processor pesto. It's snowing outside. Or at least it was.

Complete albums are perfect. Cuddling with an empty bottle nearly so. I can still remember the day when he first won my heart, on the hillside where we lay he said we never would part. So says Grace. Empty white wall, a canvas for this story. Real life is so beyond everything else. An experience. Visionary, the future. But somehow this feels like the past. Totally retro. "Hippie drug music."

An hour and a half of flashbacks to a time I never lived. Sometimes, everything is exactly right.

My Skis!

Toys Aren't Just for Boys

Yesterday disappeared somewhere in between sixteen inches of fresh snow and demoing skis all day. It must be karma that the powder always comes in time for my days off.

I went into it with the intention to, if not buy, at least pick out the exact skis I wanted when I could find them for cheap at the end of the season. As luck would have it, a pair of 164 cm K2 MissDemeanors were hanging above the demo desk, marked down not once, twice, or three times, but four markdowns to $143. In between demos I stealthily asked what the deal was. Oh, one or two seasons old? Retails? Never been skied? I demoed the men's version and loved them; they take powder, quick turns, solid edges...exactly what I was looking for. I wouldn't have been able to find a better deal. On sale bindings and a 15% discount later, at the end of the day I walked out the proud new owner of a sweet $209 pair of skis, mounted and ready to go.

So of course, despite the paralyzing pain my muscles were in after five hours of powder, I somehow managed to make it out of bed this morning because I just HAD to ski my new skis. And they are awesome. I don't think I can wait until tomorrow morning to ski.