Jan 13, 2016

Hey!  Happy Hump Day everybody!  With much needed snow blanketing the Sierras lately my thoughts turn to skiing, and while I plot a trip to the mountains, maybe you'd enjoy a little bit of plot about skiing from "Women Like Us"!  About 90 pre-orders to go by Mid-February so if you are following and haven't ordered, why not jump in?  If you're a fellow inkshares author, I'll reciprocate with a pre-order if you jump in now too.  

So on to a small passage about skiing from the mind of Edith Vale as she drives her grandson and his friend up north. This passage includes a tip about how to de-stress Edith Style.  You might want to try it!

Ski Excerpt

Of course the place was gone. All the good things went away, thought Edith Vale, as her old turbodiesel chugged north and passed the spot on Interstate 5 where, for years, there was that funky little diner they’d stop at when she, Frank and Andrew drove from Pasadena to Tahoe for their annual winter vacation. Now some massive gas station and truck stop had taken its place, vulgar and ugly like everything else new. She always looked forward to the diner, which had a giant neon sign in the Googie style that shot up into the sky like a starburst and could be seen like a beacon from miles away, the halfway point of the journey. There they’d fortify themselves with warm white toast slathered in good sweet butter and slipped into wax bags, along with cups of steamy hot chocolate, which they’d take back to the big Pontiac wagon Edie drove in those days and nibble on and sip after hitting the road again, as Frank never wanted to lose any time on the slopes by actually sitting down inside the diner for the snack. The trip to Tahoe was always the longer of the ski trips they’d make through the winter. Smaller ones were made to local mountains – Big Bear or even better, Waterman, in the San Gabriels and barely an hour north of Pasadena, albeit on a road full of frighteningly treacherous curves. Sometimes Edie would go on those day trips with Andrew and Frank, but sometimes she’d let the boys go alone and stay home so she could catch up on her magazines. She loved that quiet time, made even better with a warm bubble bath, a daiquiri and a couple of Miltowns. Indeed those days were like mini-vacations, the house so peaceful, and she didn’t need to sit down and make plans and lists or even pack a thing.