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February 24, 2004 In which I snort powder. Calvin and I headed up north last weekend to finally take in some skiing. I don't think we've gone in three or four years - the lift ticket for the Park City trip the four of us took a LONG time ago was still attached to my ski jacket, with a '99/'00 Snowbowl lift ticket stuck over it. Ye gods. What followed was several expensive years in which out-of-state winter vacationing was not affordable (read: HIPFH(tm), wedding, honeymoon, sabbatical), and in-state skiing was impossible (read: no snow), and there you have it. A severe absence of swooshy down-slopey goodness. To the point where I was actually afraid that I'd forgotten how to ski. We started planning about a month ago, and made reservations at the Hon-Dah Resort Hotel for a ski package dealy at Sunrise Ski Park. For a desert-image-evoking state, Arizona sure does have some fine skiing, when the weather cooperates. Which it finally did, this year. Marie decided not to join us, which was surprising considering how much she's been whining lately to go skiing. But she opted to hang with friends over the weekend (which actually turned out for the best, since she came down with a cold and ended up holding down her friend's couch all weekend long - she would have been miserable up north). So Calvin and I prepared ourselves for the first away-trip we've spent alone with each other in YEARS - and only the third one we've ever had in our whole relationship (the one night in Sedona on the night of our wedding doesn't count among them). Our preference is to include the kids (well, just Marie, now - if Michael and Lilly lived in Arizona (AHEM!), we'd include them, too) in all that we do, so that we can build up the family memories while we have the opportunity. And I think that's fabulous - I wouldn't have it any other way. But it is nice to be alone with Calvin when the opportunity presents itself. Hotel Sex, dontcha know. Heh. (I can hear Marie now, "Eeeewww!") Anyway. We took off Friday morning, grabbed some breakfast along the way, and toodled along Highway 60 toward Globe. We made a quick stop for some Del-Taco (never had it before, and they make a damn fine spicy chicken quesadilla. I like Taco Bell's mild sauce better, though.), then Calvin took up the driving, which allowed me to ooh-ahh at the Salt River Canyon (I'm trying to find a website on it, coming up with nada. Think Grand Canyon except smaller scale and easier to take in). We figured it would take forever to get up to the White Mountains. We seemed to recall from our camping trip a few years ago that it took, like, six hours to get there, but it only took a little over three. So, of course, our immediate thought was, "Hey! It wouldn't be too hard to take a day-trip and go skiing more often!" Sure, leave at 5:00, on the slopes at 9:00, off the slopes at 3:30, home by 7:00-ish. Yarg. We're thinking we'll head back up the weekend after next. I just wish lift tickets weren't so damned expensive. We arrived at the hotel at 2:00, and they allowed us to check in early. I have no pictures (didn't take any all weekend, as it happens), but the rooms are HUGE. Utterly immense. With a microwave and mini-fridge and wet bar. And a casino on-site, which I wasn't impressed with. I don't get gambling, myself, and the fascination with slot machines is utterly beyond me. The expression on some of the player's faces called to my mind the expression that I've seen guys have at a topless bar. Kind of vacant and feverish, you know what I mean? The night club was cool, though, and the restaurant's food was decent. The only down-side that we could tell was a rather grouchy staff (at least the ones we encountered), and the absence of cable TV and in-room movies. I guess they figured their patrons would rather be gambling, but whatever. We didn't need no stinkin' TV in order to entertain ourselves. We paused long enough to off-load our belongings, then got back into the truck to do some exploring around Show Low and Pinetop/Lakeside. We'd love to buy some land or a little cabin in the area some day. I drove Calvin nuts by constantly exclaiming, "I want to go down that road!" and "I want to go down that road!" He patiently steered where I directed, and we saw some mighty fine properties. Most weren't for sale, but that's a minor detail. I'm sure they'd vacate if we pounded on their door and offered a buck or two for their house. Really. (The link will probably be gone soon, and at $675,000 it's a little outside of our price range, but wouldn't you LOVE to own a place like this?? If it came with 40 acres and a barn for horses I'd consider it just about perfect. And still outside of our price range, dammit.) We "took a nap" when we got back to the hotel, woke up at about 7:00, and pulled ourselves together to go have some dinner and check out the night club. Calvin had better luck with his stuffed chicken than I did with my prime rib, though we both managed to stuff ourselves to the point of immobility. We levered ourselves away from the table, cut through the casino (which you have to do to get to ANY destination), and found a corner booth in the night club. We ordered a couple of drinks and settled down to watch the band. They were okay (we recognized the lead singer from another band we used to go see at Club Rio), though I think the singer had a cold or something. The dance floor was mostly empty, except for one man who was up and dancing for every single song. Whenever the guitarist did a solo, this man played air guitar. When it was the keyboardist's turn, he played air keyboards. Air drummer. Singer. The guy was a one-man act. We started to realize that there was something about this person's behavior that was a little off. At one point the light show glanced off of him, and we could see that he was mentally handicapped. He paused in between songs to communicate in sign language with a woman sitting at one of the tables (he was drooling severely, and she kept trying to get him to stand still long enough so she could wipe his chin with a napkin), then ran back onto the dance floor when the music came up again. He was obviously having a blast, dancing and singing right in front of the center of the stage. The singer called out to the audience, "Hey, you guys, you can't make him dance all by himself up here all night!" So a bunch of people got up and joined him, and we could hear him from our seats hooting in delight. The combination of stuffed tummies and alcoholic beverages sent us to bed fairly early, which was just as well since we had to get up early in the morning to hit the slopes. As I was getting out of the shower on Saturday morning, Calvin came into the bathroom with a big ol' grin on his face. He helped me dry off, waited for me to wrap a towel around myself, and pulled me toward the window. "Look!" he said, drawing aside the curtains. It was snowing, and I shrieked and hopped up and down, nose pressed against the glass. "Fresh powder! Awright!!!" We got ready and went down to the hotel restaurant, and the breakfast buffet. They did breakfast up better than dinner, in my opinion. Fruit salad (with some mighty awesome papaya), croissants, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, incredible coffee. Moo. We rented our ski equipment at the resort, which transaction took all of fifteen minutes (despite the grumpy rental guy glaring at me because I asked him to repeat himself. Not my fault that he mumbles!). We drove twenty minutes to get to the mountain, while listening to a new mix CD (the "Valentines 2004 Mix" which includes Lil' John, Usher, that chickie that sings "Milkshake", DMX, Outkast, Finger Eleven, and a bunch of others). We fumbled around with our bibs and jackets and hats and headbands and gloves and ski books for what seemed like FOREVER, tromped up to the lodge to hit the restroom, fumbled around some more with the lift tickets and the thingies they're using nowadays to attach them to your ski jacket, and FINALLY strapped on our skis and got into the lift line. It was really quiet - not too many people at all, and nonexistent lines to get on the lifts. Really, the most we had to wait the whole weekend was just a minute or two. For the most part, we rode up, skied down, coasted right up to the lift, and rode up again. I don't know if it was the snow storm that kept people away (probably not), or the fact that it was a weekend *after* a holiday weekend. We were grateful, though - the lines are what we dread the most about skiing. There were snow flurries all day Saturday - just improving the ski conditions as the day went along. The wind hit us quite a bit while we were on the lifts, swirling the snow in every direction and causing Calvin and I to exclaim at the same time, "It's like being in a snow globe!" It also caused the snow to float right up my nose, despite trying to stuff my face into my turtleneck. I joked with Calvin, "I'm snorting powder, and it ain't coke!" He humored me with a "Har". Happily, down on the slopes among the trees it was pretty still, once you get away from the peaks. I hadn't forgotten how to ski, as I had feared. As a matter of fact, weak as I KNOW my legs to be, I didn't have any difficulty at all. We were hitting the blue trails by mid-day, after we got our ski-legs back on the greens. We skied until about 3:30, then headed back to the hotel. We were pretty pooped out, but we didn't feel like hanging around at the hotel. So we recovered our appearances from the wind burn and the hat hair (Calvin kept saying I was cute and beautiful and gorgeous in my goggles and beanie - he's so good for my ego), then hunted down a local restaurant. We loved Charlie Clark's Steakhouse (in Pinetop) to pieces. Incredible food and the best service we've had at any restaurant in a long time. I think we had no fewer than five different folks on the wait staff check in with us at various times. Calvin had a prime rib that was probably three inches thick, and I had fresh trout topped with asparagus and crab meat, and covered in a hollandaise sauce. We tried out a new microbrew - apricot beer that was really pretty darn good. The heck with wine (although they had an EXTENSIVE wine list), we're beer connoisseurs! We got back to the hotel at about 6:00 and climbed right into bed. Calvin was asleep by 7:00 - I stayed awake long enough to watch the end of "Down Periscope", then turned the TV off at 8:00. Whupped, that's what we were. We kept moaning and groaning about how out of shape we are, that a day of skiing could wipe us out so bad. Calvin's shins ached, and I had bruises where my boots buckled. My shoulders hurt from having to pole myself along the flat areas, and Calvin's feet were cramped from having to handle longer skis. Wussies, that's what we are. The next day dawned sunny and clear. We packed up our stuff in short order, checked out, and had another round at the breakfast buffet. We parked in a quieter area of the mountain - no lines, front row parking, and lifts headed up to one of our favorite trails. Fresh powder had fallen all the previous day and into the night, and yet there was hardly anybody on the slopes. It was just a plain old JOY to be there - I kept grinning like a fool, and hugging Calvin's arm to me while we kicked it on the ski lift. Calvin kept laughing at me because we'd get on the lift, settle in, I'd turn to him and say, "I love you", we'd get off the lift, ski down the trail, get back to the lift, settle in, and I'd turn to him and say, "I love you". I explained that it's because we can't talk while we're skiing (I am apparently hard of hearing, and he's usually ahead of me anyway), so by the time we're down the mountain again, it's time for another "I love you". We skied one particular blue trail repeatedly - "Spirit Trail", which was nice and wide and smooth (I tend to swoosh from side to side a lot, rather than Speed Demon Calvin, who likes to shoot straight down), yet steep enough to keep up a nice momentum and provide some challenge. I compared Calvin to the Golden Retriever I had as a kid (Me - "You're just like Tawney." Him - "Wait, your dog Tawney?!?"). She used to like to sit and wait for me to walk far ahead of her, then come racing by at full speed, stop ahead of me and wait for me to go by, then race ahead again. Except Calvin would holler, "Hi, baby!" as he went by. If Tawney had done that, well, I'd have pitched a tent and charged admission. We got off the mountain fairly early - Marie was sick at her friend's, and I wanted to be home in time to watch the final episode of Sex and the City (LOVED the end - see my blog). We dropped off the ski equipment, and stopped for a late lunch at The Lion's Den - "Home of the Wineburger!". A burger was just what the two of us were jonesing for. The service was pretty slow - there was only one lady to cook and serve and tend the bar all at once - but the burger was decent. The Bud Light hit several needy spots while we waited and laughed at the drunk people singing along with the juke box at the bar at 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon. After lunch, we pulled the truck over to a more secluded part of the parking lot and changed into clothes more comfortable for traveling. Traffic thwarted us from speeding along at the clip that Calvin would have preferred, but we still made it back to Globe by 5:00. We made a quick restroom stop at Dairy Queen and armed ourselves with an Oreo Blizzard to fortify ourselves for the remainder of the drive. Another hour put us in our driveway. We chucked the bags inside, said hi to the frantic-for-attention cat (the dogs spent the weekend at Calvin's mom's), then got back in the truck and headed out to pick Marie up. Beyond that, it was unpacking, medicating Marie and giving her many hugs for her misery ("Don't breathe on me, and wash your hands!"), watching the 7:00 showing of SatC, running to Fazoli's for some dinner, doing something that I can't remember until 9:00 (laundry? e-mail? oh, I checked my class' on-line bulletin board for my MicroEcon assignments, and I blogged a little), watching the one-hour "goodbye" special about SatC, then watching the final episode again at 10:00. Yes, Calvin made fun of me. Perhaps when we go up for a day trip to ski, I'll take pictures. Comments on this entry? Head on over to Colloquial!

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