A few more ski pictures

from our day at Sugarbowl last Sunday (these were on a different camera than the others).

Here's my husband in the silliest ski hat ever. It has a baseball cap brim that flips up in the wind so it's standing vertically. Sophie and I think he looks like one of those dinosaurs with the crest on it's head—an allosarus? At any rate, we think he looks like a geek. Although we love him anyway.



Here's Sophie and her cousin enjoying an apres ski beverage, a Shirley Temple, which Sophie calls just a "Shirley." I don't know how she did it, but she talked the bartender into loading it with a totally unreasonable number of maraschino cherries.



And me with my favorite post-slopes indulgence (picture taken by Sophie).



There's no time when a beer tastes better.

But the picture I really need to post is this,



my seventy-something dad, who two years ago decided it was time to join us on the slopes and learn to ski. We shot some video on this day, but I don't even want to post it because it's nothing compared to how he was skiing at the end of three days later at Squaw. By the end of our trip he was seriously ripping the groomers and is set to take on steeps and bumps on our next trip. What I love most is that he's approached skiing with the same curiosity and enthusiasm that he shows in the rest of his life. I don't think I've ever known anyone as open to new experiences as he. Dad, I know you'll read this and hope you know how proud I am of you. Nothing rocks more than having three generations of our family on the slopes tearing it up together. Can't wait to see you up here in another week when we'll rock it again!