It is 3:30 AM and I am listening to a sound that causes me grave discomfort. The wind. It is on the cusp of President's week, maybe now truncated to President's weekend for most. I have been skiing at this little resort in Western Massachusetts all week. Every trail open. Conditions excellent. Crowds, well if there is a word beyond non-existent, let me know and I will insert it.
This is written like a first class novel. Seriously, please expand this to 325 pages. HJ