Swish, slide, chairlift, trees passing by my peripheral vision in a blur as I fly downhill in a swishing whooshing sound in my partially covered years. Sliding left, sliding right, back and forth as I look at the small town in the valley below getting bigger and bigger. Not that the town is growing like the Marshmallow Man and Ghostbusters, but because I’m getting closer to it as I spot the chairlift at the bottom of the snowy slope. People crowd around as we are funneled down the powdery white mountain 10,000 feet above, into a single line of skiing ants are herded snow cows moving to go back up only to slide back down again. Hot Tub tonight. I’m skiing, it’s winter in the Colorado Rockies.