"Pretty damn sweet"

Listen, the rebels burst through the door about 9 a.m. and took me hostage. Swear to god. They bound my hands and tied me to the bumper of the truck with a spare bow line I had in the garage. Seriously. And that's the only reason I didn't hike the bowl today or go make turns anywhere in the clear Colorado sunshine. Really. After the rebels left I managed to drag the truck about a block before passing out from the supreme effort I was making to reach the slopes before the lifts closed. Honest. After being released by a sympathetic passing neighbor, I crawled home for an ice tea. Then I heard from an experienced field scout, known for her understated manner and strong skiing, that it was "pretty damn sweet up there today." And that's when I knew I should have chewed through the ties that bound me.