One reason I’m happy to be going back to Utah this holiday: tele (jpg).
About this time every year, ski dreams come back to me. Last night was the first night of this season’s ski dreams. I spent the entire dream standing around in my boots, waiting for somebody to buy me a lift ticket, like a deadhead in the parking lot waiting for a miracle. Odd. Does this reflect my unease with the ungodly-expensive lift tickets at Snowbasin, the knowledge that I have become weak and thin-skinned here in the desert, or apprehension about the way that holidays always run out of time before I run out of things I want to do?