I am not a cold weather person. I hate snow. Okay, I don't hate it, but if I had to decide between the tropics or Arctic Circle, the tropics will win out hands down.

Joseph, his girls, his brother, a friend, and I went to a well-known ski resort in WV over the weekend. When I tell you that the four year old started up with the "Are we there yet?" about 15 minutes into the trip (this, despite having a dvd player and 50+ movies to watch), that should give you a good idea of how the entire adventure went. This was just a day trip thank God! We got to the ski resort (finally) in the beginnings of a mini-blizzard. I was not along to ski, snowboard, or snow tube. I was pure arm candy with my full-length faux leopard coat garnering some approving glances from this group of Latinos in the bar. I brought some trash mags, a Janet Evanovich novel, and my laptop. I was rubbing my hands thinking of the blissful hours I would have alone while 1/2 the group snowboarded and the rest (Joseph & Mandy) played in the snow. This was not to be, alas! I had a screaming 4 year old and a very grumpy-fighting-off-the-flu-40-year-old. Frankly, as I sat there watching Mandy throw herself on the floor in a tantrum and Joseph so ill as he looked like he was going to pass out, I just wanted to be...elsewhere. Specifically, a place with pink beaches, brilliant blue water, a hammock, a private waterfall, a cabana boy named Nick to cater to all my whims, and a never ending supply of French martinis. That is how I coped with the trip from hell. It was so bad that Joseph asked me the next morning as I headed out to work whether I intended to come back--ever.

I just don't get the whole ski thing. I see myself in a full-body cast when I contemplate strapping two very slick, tiny pieces of wood to my feet and racing down a hill trying to avoid trees, rocks, and other skiers. I mean experienced people have died skiing and I have trouble walking down a flight of steps without landing on my face I am so klutzy. I just can't do body cast with three flights of steps greeting me each day when I come home. And don't get me started on the cold and wet! I am a water baby--a warm, beachy water baby. Give me Hawaii, Aruba, Tahiti and I am yours forever.

I did get two compliments from Joseph this weekend: he told me that I have spectacular breasts and that I was "Total Package". He said it just doesn't get any better than me because I am real special and sweet. So that sort of rescued the charred remains of the weekend. Maybe my cabana boy will be named Joseph.

Labels: boobs, Joseph, Mandy, skiing