Aren't we just cute with Wooly? I have to admit, I have deep, deep sympathy for the poor schmuck suffering through that job just for cheap lift tickets. It had to be 70 degrees in the sun that day, and having to suffer on the snow wearing the skin of a plastic pachyderm really couldn't have been too pleasant. And you know that head has just gotta smell like an old gym locker after just a few seasons. A couple hours of having to wear that while getting clocked in the groin by toddlers and taken out at the knees by newbie boarders and, seriously, I would want to be extinct too.

Regardless, the boarding was fun. And I spent a lot less time in that position than I expected. That being said, am I the only one who would rather just carry my friggin board to the lift than suffer the inevitable groin pull brought upon by all the shuffling in the lift lines? But, hey, what do I know? I'm new to this pay-to-play sport.

I'm also thinking I really ought to get a helmet next time. As cool as my shiny noggin looks reflecting the alpine sun, taking an overzealous tweenager's edge into the back of my skull isn't going to improve my skills on the steeps. It's funny, but the more I participate in other sports, the more I think that rock climbing is remarkably safe. Done correctly, we have a lot less rapid acceleration. And more importantly, we have a lot less rapid deacceleration.

Still, I want to get back out on the snow again this year. Maybe a trip to BC is in order. Whistler anyone? I really don't need much of an excuse to go to BC.

I'd try to get back to the Sierra this weekend, but I'm in my motorcycle training class. This is a big year for knocking items off of my life's to-do-before-you-die list. Learn to snowboard, ride a motorcycle, make out like a horny teenager with the prettiest girl in the world. Seriously, it's only March, and I'm off to a pretty good start.

Now I just have to go to the World Series, write a book, jump out of an airplane, redpoint 5.12b (it's a climbing thing), get an entire high school cafeteria and/or mall parking lot dancing in unison, get into a Cool Whip wrestling match with Adriana Lima, grow hair somewhere I want it (like, oh, the top of my head), and start my career as an international playboy, and dammit, I'll be well on my way to personal nirvana.