230/365

It started off with big sweatshirts and leggings and lattes down in the village. Then it was 3 chatterboxes in flannel shirts burning holes in our pockets in downtown Breckenridge. We told John Waite how much we loved his hair and then we hopped on the ski lift like a couple of 4th graders. It was in this moment that I thought to myself "this day can't get any better". Then my old boss called and said that Pat Green was cooking a big dinner for everybody back at the house. And, once again, the day got better.

You wouldn't think a beer-drinking, barefoot-singin', good old boy could whip together much more than a bologna sandwich. But life is full of surprises. Our day ended with baked tilapia, bacon-wrapped-asparagus, and some mystery pasta with a highly-caloric, yet highly-satisfying white sauce.

Why is any of this warranted as blog material? Because a day like this can so easily be forgotten. The food, the people, the music, the mountain air, the laughter. And I just want to know that there's the slightest chance that someday I'll be perusing ye old blog and something I just wrote will help me recognize what a lucky I was to have a day like this.