OK, not the best picture of my wife and I.
Not surprising since the guy I asked to snap the photo was in the middle of devouring a Signature Copper Top Tri Tip DeluXXXe, the finest, juiciest, BBQ-iest tri-tip sandwich found north of Lago Salinas Grandes deep in the heart of Argentina.
"Yeah sure buddy, I'll put down this orgasmic experience just to produce a cheap memory of you and your spouse standing in front of a hyperbolic roadway restaurant sign. Good thing we waited til the end of the day when the light is WRONG. No. Really. You're welcome."
At least I have one memento from last week's midlife, midweek, Mammoth getaway.
As you might have guessed with the stunning regularity of R17 posts, I am a terrible creature of habit. And my rigid sense of discipline often gets the best of me, leaving me unable to break a routine or take on any sense of spontaneity.
I'm working to change that.
And so, much to the delight of my wife, I shockingly booked a 1 bedroom condo in the heart of Mammoth Village. This is notable on two counts. First, the aforementioned taking of the initiative. Secondly, perhaps even more shocking, I sprung for convenience and "luxury" of a larger-than-usual suite in a more expensive-than-usual accommodation less than 100 yards from the Gondola lift.
Because I'm 44 years old damnit.
And because I have to eat many, many big bowls of smelly stupid corporate marketing bullshit to make a living, so I deserve a break once in a while.
I'm happy to report the vacation gods came through. Finally.
After last summer's seaweed beach fiasco in Tulum, I thought I'd never get a break. But two days prior to our road trip up Route 395, the mountain received more than 5 feet of new snow. Upon our arrival in Mammoth Lakes, still my favorite ski resort because it is noticeably absent all the nouveau riche ski resort pretentious posing, the precipitation ended.
In fact, we were treated to a rare consecutive streak of 3 picture-perfect Bluebird days.
I know you must be thinking, how does a fat, old 44 year old Jew even manage to get up on skis?
(keep your eye on the right and ignore the self-criticism at the end.)