Here's the thing about ski "vacations" though: They're not really vacations. They are a blur of getting up early; putting on 8 million layers of clothing; scarfing some food down; schlepping your skis (and your kid's) from the condo to the gondola (which only happened to be about 60 yards away in our case); creeping your way up to the top of the mountain at a snail's pace; skiing your fanny off to the point that every muscle in your body (especially your legs) is screaming at you like a teenage girl at her mother (sorry, Mom); constantly wondering if you have a runny nose b/c your face is too frozen to tell; literally falling onto the couch at the end of the day and not even considering moving until an hour later b/c, really, you just can't, oh but wait, you brought a 3 year old along so you have to move; looking forward to having that apres-ski drink, but not really being able to enjoy it b/c you're paranoid you'll get that particular kind of mountain headache/hangover that only happens at 10,000+ feet. But, at the end of the whole enchilada/whirlwind/shebang/"vacation", when someone asks if you had a good time, you think back and say yes, yes we did. Because we survived, and we all still like each other. :)
Oliver did great at ski school! Nary a tear at drop-off or pick-up. And by day 3, well, just look at this stud go!
And, I got to see my dear friend Marisa, who lives the good life in Avon/Beaver Creek!
Keystone Village Ice Sculpture.
Meg and I, just doin' how we do!
Best views in the whole country that day, I reckon!
Hot chocolate break (oh, and Go Pokes)!
Who wouldn't want this to be their backyard?
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