Hello from the land of deep sighs of relief, post-holiday detox, and a balmy, sunny January 2nd. In three days, after the 5th, our rush will be over(ish). I had the day off today, letting Cassandra, the other inspector, cover for me. I drove to Keystone to do an inspection first thing this morning (ok, so a day off never actually means no working at all, just most of a day off). As I finished the inspection, I did my usual pat-down of myself (phone, keys, season pass, goggles, gloves) and prepared to ski, and realized that in my rush to leave the house, with it being such a warm morning, I had forgotten my coat. With the wind making goosebumps on my arms already in the parking lot, skiing coatless was not an option so I drove back home and retrieved it, then drove to Marci's place and parked in the parking lot beside her condo complex. Hopped a shuttle for the mountain, stepped into my skis, and hit the slopes.

In the last several days, I have Learned to Ski. Oh, i have gotten down the mountain just fine until now, but now I am finally getting brave enough to tackle (albeit timidly) the bumps and trees, knowing that I am in control, knowing that I can turn when I need to. Oh, I had a few crashes today, but no injuries- no new ones, anyway. Last night, I made a rookie mistake and had one of those low-speed crashes that can really mess a person up. Why is it, on skis or a board, that the low-speed crashes always hurt so much worse? I have caught an edge going 50 miles per hour, tumbled, rolled, flopped, and finally skidded to a halt, gotten up, and suffered nothing more than mild whiplash and several bruised fingers. But I have also lost my balance on a flat spot, or dropped my nose into powder while barely moving, and created injury to knees and behind that plague me to this day. Such was the story last night while night skiing. Shuffling out of someone's way, I got myself all six ways from Sunday and finally sat down with an pop from deep inside my left knee. I lay there and moaned a bit, then told myself to stop being a baby, got up and finished out the night. Denied the pain all evening, then had it wake me up every time I turned over in my sleep... and still decided to deny it this morning, hobbled around the house until it loosened up, and once on my skis, started having so much fun I almost forgot about it. And by late afternoon, apparently it decided that sending pain signals to the brain wasn't doing any good and decided to leave me alone, except for protesting a few torque-creating moves on my cross-country skis. It allowed me to ski all morning, then cross-country ski this afternoon, then clean house all evening, but now that I am lying on the couch, it is stiffening up again.

If you are wondering if I have become confused and starting calling snowboarding skiing, I have not. I really am skiing these days. I am surprised at how easy it has been to pick up. I am doing things on my skis it took me two years to do on my board, and it opens up terrain options that used to really suck on a board. The traverse at the bottom of the bumps and trees on the Outback Mountain are not quite as daunting now, because I have poles and can skate out of the flat spots. But I have to admit, I still do feel just a tiny bit uncool. I find myself mentioning that I usually snowboard if I am stuck on a lift chair full of snowboarders.

The last warm day, about five days ago, was a slightly slower day, which gave me time to ride my bike to work. I layered up and pedalled through the ice and snow, and remembered how much I love biking. Snow sports are fun, better than fun, but I just really do love biking the most. I think it is because of the freedom and speed, not having to stay between the ropes at the resorts, but just out in the backcountry. Maybe once I try backcountry skiing, I will be as much in love, but i doubt it, since I will not be allowed to backcountry ski by myself (not that I want to) so I will have to wait until I can go with someone else.

Jay and Wendy came up over new years so that Jay could ride snowmobile a bit before he starts a new job in Scott City. Since we already had plans to go to our friend's house for New years eve, we invited them along, as well and Austin and Cassandra and Marci. We make quite a bunch when we are all together, but our friends are very flexible. We had dinner, then the plan was to go to keystone for the torchlight parade and fireworks at nine oclock. Out of 16 of us, only four of us ended op going to Keystone. All of our group (except me) went home, and everyone else played games while four of us loaded into the car with Raisin, the six week old puppy (These are the same people who's dog Roxy died a few months ago. They just got a new puppy last week.) Raisin got a little scared and ended up being carried inside her new mommy's coat as the fireworks exploded overhead, and got spotted by one person, who wanted to pet her, and one person turned into about twenty. Nothing like a puppy to break the ice in a crowd of complete strangers.

And although B thinks he may be sniffling a bit more than usual, no debilitating colds over new Year's. We hope it is because we are not quite so sleep-deprived this year, a result of having the staff to cover, or actually abort all the crises that usually arise. We had an especially trying run of Christmas guests this year, but our New Year's guests have been angels. At least, we have no evidence they have been anything but. We will see upon their check out how angelic they were. The phones are amazingly quiet for having so many guests in-house, unlike the daily calls from uptight Missourians who "expected so much more for ($X) a night" over Christmas. We do not know how to tell them that with holiday rates, we do not turn into a full-service, luxury concierge service. The higher rate simply means they have a roof over their heads, hurriedly cleaned, appliances held together with whatever we could rig in the six hours we had to fix what the last guests broke before they checked out that morning, because if they did not want to pay ($X) a night, hundreds more would pay that and more, if only something was available. And that if they wish to come during a lower-rate time instead of smack in the middle of the holidays, we will be much more accommodating, their condo will be cleaner and in better shape, the pools and hot tubs will be warmer, the repair contractors more available, the ice more cleared from their porches and driveways, and their trash picked up in a timely manner. But we are through that now. From here until President's Day weekend, we charge less and have more time to provide a quality lodging experience, and those who pay more over New Year's and Spring Break are not the type to demand perfection, only that we leave them alone and let them do their thing.

And, as of two days ago, it has become clear that the time of the fresh fruit, raw veggie, nut, bean and whole grain has come again. It is time to clear out the system, get some fresh air and sunshine, remember to take those vitamins, drink lots of water, sweat out some toxins ingested over the course of two stress-filled, coffee fueled, manic weeks in which the food in the fridge rotted and meal preparation was limited to either "I'll have the special, please", or "Please don't ask me to cook... don't you have a frozen pizza in the freezer?" One can only have so many Veggie Patch pitas at the Keystone Pizzeria and Pub before beginning to lose enthusiasm for them, but starvation is not an option. One effect of running all day in high altitude is that one feels sweaty, weak and shaky before one actually feels hungry. I stumbled upon a box of forgotten Mozzarella sticks in a freezer at the end of one of those days in which nothing, not even water, had been ingested for the last eight hours- eight hours of non-stop running. Even though I do not eat cheese, the resolve went out the window and i dug in, frozen though they were, and about a dozen sticks later, stopped inhaling them to read the nutrition label... upon which the rest of the box got tossed into the nearest trash can. I had known they were unhealthy, but did not realize until too late that I had exceeded my entire day's allotment of calories, fat, and sodium in about fifteen minutes of chowing on frozen, rubbery bits of curdled animal lactation rolled in hydrogenated oil, refined flour, and MSG. Oh, yes, if you are thinking things like "stinkin' grasseater" right now (you now who you are) I can hear your derisive snort from here. I won't live longer, you say, it will only seem like it. And I shall what I do, shrug and say I would like to be able to live the heck outa the few years I do have. No guarantees that I will be able to, but it can't hurt to try, right?

And now, if I do not get this posted, it will sit on my computer screen another 24 hours (it was started last night). Sort of like my Christmas cards. New year's cards. Whatever. They're still sitting on our entryway desk, awaiting mailing. And if you do not get one, please do not take it personally. They were an experiment, which resulted in my not ordering enough, which resulted in them going to only a few immediate family, and a few neighbors. But as soon as I stick 'em in the mail, I will also post one here, so you can get one, too. Trust me, my list was much, much bigger than the pile sitting on the desk.

Oh, goodness, putting pictures in this post would mean me searching for the camera, searching for the cord, loading them onto my computer, uploading them to this blog... I'll do pictures next time. Maybe. Unless doing pictures means delaying the posting thereof. In which case I'll just write, and hope nobody misses them too much.