Isn't hubby a wonderful photographer? He's the image guy, I'm the word gal. I tend to cut people's heads off in pictures. :)
This is the cabin we're staying at. Our cousins have lived here for 30 years. They built it themselves. In some years, we wake up to deer looking though the sliders downstairs.
5 days post surgery, I felt well enough to give skiing a go. I stayed on the easy groomers and the kiddos deigned to ski slowly with me.
That's me in the blue, eldest kiddo in red, youngest kiddo in the olive green. They both can ski circles around me, but that's what happens when you learn before the age of 3.
Yesterday, we got to see how the other half lives. There's a private ski mountain about an hour and a half from Bozeman. Yes, I said *private* mountain. Apparently you need a net worth of 30 million to buy a home there. But hubby knew someone who knew someone, and we got a guest pass for the day. *Very* swanky. When they valet park your car, they take your skis to the lift for you. And the warming huts on mountain? Think old fashioned candy store, with candy, cookies, hot cocoa, and soup. Just for the enjoyment of the members.
It was pretty amazing.
But you know what? I'm more comfortable at the local ski hill where it's okay to repair your ski gear with duct tape. :)
And the plot bunny: On the way to the swanky ski club, we were listening to the local rock station. They were giving their call sign and they broadcast on the web, like just about everyone now and I was thinking what an awful racket we're making in the ether.
What if the aliens find us just to shut us the hell up?
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