How I know it is Spring Break in Mammoth

Go no further than the grocery store. No one is older than 24. They are all wearing neon and sunglasses from the Tom Cruise classic Risky Business. I don't think any of them have seen that movie. There are snowboards in the shopping carts because none of them could afford to rent a car, so they take the bus right from the mountain. Next to the snowboards in the cart are Fritos, Totinos Pizza Rolls, Seagrams gin, limes, and a 24-pack of Coors Light tall cans. They were on sale. Lines of neon clad college kids wrap around into the aisles. They all walk like penguins because their snowboard pants are too big and don't stay up. I just wanted limes for my own gin. It was not Seagrams. It took 30 minutes. I came home, lit a candle, turned on a Scrubs DVD and poured a gin and tonic for myself and a scotch for Jon. 30 minutes in the neon jungle was totally worth it. Ahhhh... to be an adult. (I can say that now that I'm 30.)

Patience truly is a virtue.

The scene of the crime.

Months. Months is the amount of time I have been hinting around that my days of living in sin should probably come to a close. I'm impatient. And I know a good thing when I see it. I have never been one to let something I really want go. So, I hinted and hinted... lately not so subtly.

Yesterday, we skied to an unnamed knob somewhere in the Lakes Basin, supposedly on our way to Duck Lake (which, incidentally, is really too far for us to ski in a day, so we found out), and decided to get married. Right there in front of no one. With views of the snow-covered peaks of the Sierra.

I should have been more patient, because that was perfect.