Wednesday, August 4, 2010


The next morning I wake up bleary-eyed, wondering where I am and whose voices I hear. I have lived alone for a decade so unexpected sound(s) startle me. I pad into the kitchen and find Kate and Wynn. “Want some coffee?” Kate asks. Uhm do Hindus begin every auspicious occasion by invoking the god Ganesh? Yes please!!! (see photo to right of Ganesh).

I take a long sip and savor the black gold seduction of Juan Valdez. Meg bounces into the kitchen, with far too much zest and vigor for the 7:00 am hour. She is dressed head-to-toe in fashionable, color-coordinated ski wear.  “Mornin’!” she chirps. She looks like a blonde ski bunny, slim, sleek, and sporty. She stands in her apr├Ęs ski boots and cream cheeses a bagel and checks her watch. “See you guys later,” Meg says. “Wait 10 minutes and I’ll go with you,” Wynn says. “No,” Meg replies and dashes out the door. 

“I can be ready in 10 minutes. Wynn, will you wait for me?” I ask. I am very NERVOUS about being on a mountain. Didn’t Sonny Bono die this way? Skiing? “I’m feeling generous,” Wynn says. “I’ll give you 15 minutes.” Cool. I dash into the bedroom, pull on my layers and return to the kitchen and find Siobhan drinking coffee with Kate and Wynn. “Why is everyone up? I don’t even go to work this early!” Siobhan says. “We’re skiing,” Wynn reminds. Siobhan shudders, “I know…but it is SO early. And I am still tired and cold,” she says in a cutesy voice. “Maybe it’s because you’re wearing summer weight cotton pajamas in winter?” I suggest and she laughs. “You guys, ever since I moved into my apartment four years ago I have not worn flannel pajamas. It is so hot I keep the windows open for months!” “You and me alike, sister!” I chime.

Chances are, if you rent in Manhattan, you live in a building built before the Stock Market Crashed in 1929. This means you most likely have a radiator heating system and NO ability to control it. So you spend winter living in an apartment that feels like an icebox and leaves you dreaming of Antigua. Or you live, as Siobhan and I do, sweating in it out in Santa Domingo wearing shorts and tank tops. Even more joyous for me is that my radiators leak and rot the wood floor when turned off and then the Super yells at me. So I leave them on full-blast. Ugh.

“Are we going to ski or what? Because I didn’t come here to sit around the house,” Wynn snarls unexpectedly. For a moment we all stop breathing as her biting tone sinks in. “Of course I’ll ski too,” Siobhan redirects lightly. “Just after I have some coffee and relax. I’ll be out on the slopes by noon.” “Then you only have four hours to ski,” Wynn argues. “And that is enough for me,” Siobhan states and stands up. She is a foot taller than Wynn. I glance over at Kate and make a face that says, “wow, two attorneys arguing at this hour? this just became unpleasant.” She nods and shifts her weight back and forth. “But I am not spending all this money to ski for four hours,” Wynn snaps. “Then you should go ski now. I’ll catch the shuttle and meet you. We don’t have to do EVERYTHING together,” Siobhan explains in a polite, flat nonsense tone.

I go back into the bedroom and pull on my pink puffy H&M down jacket I bought in London a few years back. It is more Spice Girls than Avid Skier but it will do the trick. Okay mountain, are you ready? Because here I come!!!

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