The last time I went night skiing was nineteen ninety high school, when Dad and Robin and I braved a nasty snowstorm to hit the slopes at Marquette Mountain. It snowed about 18 inches an hour and we were literally the only people on the hill; tracks were full and unrecognizable by the time we got on the lift after each run. (One of the lifties even offered to buy us pizza if we'd stop.) Last night I hit the slopes at Bear Creek and had the exact opposite experience. Instead of pouring snow, it rained. Instead of being the only person on the hill, there were thousands of people (think shuttle bus to the overflow parking lot). I'd considered getting a season evening pass for BC, but now I'm not sure; the hill just might not be worth it.
Not much else to report: loft painting, which was painstakingly laboriously tedious. By the end of the day, we'll have the plastic put away and our favorite room back. Then a little cooking, a little cleaning, and it will start to feel like not still the holidays.
Sunday, January 06, 2008