Spring skiing on a weekday is definitely the way to go, with warm temperatures and minimal crowds. While others are working, I can have the mountain to myself. I really feel adventuresome at Mount Hood because the craggy peak still looms overhead, unlike most resort areas where you ski from the top. Yesterday, I experienced some expansive, awesome views, blue skies, and sunshine. However, the higher the elevation the stronger the wind gusts and the icier the groomed path to the base. A few days earlier, twelve inches of fresh snow fell and this covered the bare spots that were visible on our last trip a month ago. It also meant that there were some hidden powdery, pockets that swallowed one of my skis and threw me into an ungraceful face plant. I was fortunate that I had my goggles on to protect my glasses, otherwise the miscue might have been worse. As always, the hardest part about falling is trying to get back up, and I expended a lot of energy trying to right myself in the soft snow. It took away both my confidence and strength, but the day was only half over. By the time we were ready to leave, I had my best two runs of the day, anxious to return in the near future. It was only $59 for the day as a Senior. Next year, I’ll probably buy a Spring Pass that will be even more affordable.
I accomplished one other goal yesterday after finally locating a Carl’s Jr. in the vicinity of our meeting point to make the Mount Hood drive together. The last time we met at the same location I couldn’t find the restaurant despite trying to follow the signage. It turned out to be actually one exit down I-5, so I stopped there yesterday morning. Early in my career, I worked for an agency that handled the advertising for Burger Chef, a franchise chain that eventually evolved into Hardee’s. They have the same parent company, CKE Restaurants, as Carl’s Jr., and many of the same menu items. One of my favorites was always the sausage, egg, and biscuit breakfast sandwich. (See Post #279). I hadn’t had one in years, but it was on my “Pail List;” items not worthy of being on a “Bucket List” because they “pale” in comparison. It was not a disappointment, certainly worthy of my memories and now crossed-off with pleasure.
As I was running off the biscuit calories this morning, I felt a sense of relief that I didn’t get hurt yesterday. I was grateful knowing that I wasn’t stiff and sore from the fall, and that my day would be filled with the routine pleasures of just being at home. I’m preparing pan-roasted fried pork chops for dinner tonight. The thick chops marinated in a salt and sugar solution overnight, enhanced with some juniper berries, peppercorns, garlic, and thyme. With my ski plans yesterday, we decided to move my cooking to tonight in lieu of our traditional “Date Night.” (See Post #97). Tomorrow night is Hamilton and dinner at the Veritable Quandary, now known simply as Q, so this week has hardly been routine.
My wife and I are both recovering from jet lag and head colds (or allergies?) so hopefully next week will be more restful. Then, it will be off to Santa Monica to celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary, that might have been in Mexico had it not been for a twist in fate. It would have been too much to have done both the Mediterranean and Mexico in 30 days, so this alternative side trip to California was planned as part-business for my wife. I will try to see if the Anne Frank exhibit is open this time at the Museum of Tolerance that is just down the street from our Beverly Hills Marriott. (See Post #299). After reading the diary and seeing the Amsterdam exhibit, this might be an interesting way to learn some more details while my wife is making some sales calls.
As I do this daily blog, I find a strong connection with Anne Frank. While she used paper to document her story, I sit at a computer each day and try to express my thoughts. She addressed each entry with “Dear Kitty,” like she was writing to a friend. In a way, I think I’m writing to my son, trying to leave behind words that I wish that my father had left me. My mom left me lots of pictures, but somehow, to me, words are more meaningful. Unlike thousands of other young girls who kept diaries of their lives, Anne Frank’s words were eventually published. I at least have the advantage of knowing that mine are stored on a cloud and accessible to anyone. They may never be read, but there’s always a chance. I feel a kindred spirit with Anne Frank. As she stated in her diary:
“When I write I can shake off all my cares. My sorrow disappears, my spirits are revived.”
I’ll bet she would have enjoyed a day of skiing.
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