Me: Rumor has it you’re coming to Ski Weekend this year.
Beamer: I can neither confirm nor deny said rumor.
Me: I assume it’s contingent on the Princess [OldChristine] recovering from the Plague or whatever it is that she has.
Me: Sounds like a cheesy novel, The Princess and the Plague.
Beamer: Actually, the King has the Plague, but feels a night of heavy drinking may kill the remainder of it. And maybe the Princess will not be well enough to come. Which means I get to stay the night for once.
Me: Then you would get to experience the true Ski Weekend. Especially the midnight sledding. Bring your boots and parka. I bring sleds for all.
Beamer: I would think that “true Ski Weekend” sledding would include sledding in underwear. And would require some snow.
Me: You can inaugurate a new underwear tradition. I’m still holding out hope of snow.
Beamer: It’s s’posed to get cold the next few days.
Me: Yay! One year, I got out of the hot tub and did a snow angel in a three foot snow bank in my bikini. There is photographic proof.
Beamer: Which would prevent you from running for President in the future.
Me: You don’t know that. We still don’t know what it’s going to take to put a woman in the White House. That could be it.
Beamer: Good point.
Last year, I was the Token Pregnant Chick at Ski Weekend. (There’s always one. I am not kidding.) I couldn’t participate in any most of the fun activities. This year, more than the junk-eating, heavy-drinking, midnight-sledding, movie-watching, pool-table-dancing, Euchre-playing*, since Ski Weekend is (lucky for me!) a mandated child-free event, I’m looking forward to the sleeping-inning.
*To be completely honest, there’s really not all that much skiing anymore during Ski Weekend.
