off piste

We have just one more day here in Whistler after today. We will be driving back down to our good lives on Sunday, but I have to say, I like my life here very much. First, there is the swell digs. The place is small, but very smart and good. Also, heated floors and a jetted tub? Each morning I open my eyes to the sun coming up on a nearby mountain. I sigh, and then lay around until I feel like getting up. We can get on the gondola straight out the door, but my beginner's skills want me to take the bus up to Whistler Village to do a shorter run, which is still 782626280 times longer than the longest run on my beloved Mount Hood. My legs are hurty. Whistler is massive. It is like the Mall of America, but for skiing. VBM is in hog heaven. Or horse heaven. Or ski heaven. Whichever. He is in good spirits and he looks very cute in his little ski pants.
There are lots of super cute Aussies working everywhere and they are so smiley and good looking and what with the accent and oh my. I saw a BBW in a fur coat and Sorels wandering around the gondola exchange this morning right before I devoured the best fucking hot dog I have ever eaten. I wondered about her but stopped abruptly when the whole hot dog thing became a reality for me. We also met a man older than my father with a snowboard in the gondola. "To hell with skis," he declared, grinning. I thought he was out of his mind, but what do I know.
We have been spending money like it is going out of style, mostly on beer and chicken wings.
I am presently drinking a wonderful cup of chamomile tea whilst the VBM reads the latest Christopher Moore, and wishing we had more time here. I do miss the munchkin and we are planning our trip for next year already. I have one more day to hone my very basic turn up here before we drive back down to our Oregon home, where I will once again pick up dog poop and vacuum each and every day. Wah.