It’s winter in Eastern Oregon.
The snow is pristine white, and on days like today, when the sky is turquoise and the mountains are glowing…
You can’t help but love living here.
Our local ski hill, Anthony Lakes, is only open Thursday through Sunday. They’ve received over 15-inches of fresh snow since last Sunday, so today is going to be one of those bluebird days that powder hounds live for. Paizano’s has corporate passes for our crew; I’m sure they were all checked out early this morning.
James took a photo last weekend from the lift:
Three of our crew went up, including our newest front gal. They were all exhausted at work that night, but a good kind of exhausted. Rubbery legs and tired lungs beat a hangover any day.
I’ve been cooking up a storm at home and at work, preparing for a big event next week. I’ve never done anything like this before, and my nerves are making my stomach tie up in knots.
I cut myself, just barely, while trimming a coconut yesterday.
I just shaved a partial fingerprint off of my thumb. It made me nervous. What if I had cut myself really badly? What if I slip on a wet kitchen floor and sprain a wrist? What if I get the flu this weekend?
I live in a world of routine and normalcy and I like it. Why on earth would I participate in something that has every one watching and literally judging me?
My poor husband. I need a Xanax and a glass of wine, and it’s only 9:30 in the morning.