Maxed Out

Travel makes the heart grow fonder.

At least I think it was a dream.

I had a dream. At least I think it was a dream I remembered it when I woke up the other morning, but I can’t remember whether it was a dream, something I heard snoozing through council, or maybe something read somewhere.

One of the times in my life when I was a graduate student, the school I attended in Montreal used to have visiting lecturers every other Friday.

I’ve fallen in love. Well, let’s not rush in to things.

Well, it’s that time of year again. The time of year I wish I had a two-page spread. Yes, it’s Maxie time, time to honour the achievements, great and small, that make this town such an interesting place to live. The envelopes, please.

“I’ll be home for Christmas….” Actually, I won’t be. But assuming I make it past Homeland Security, past the very thorough check of the contents of my car after the U.S.

‘Tis the season to be jolly. Fa La La La La La La”...etc. In honour of the jolly season upon us, I have resolved to be not just jolly, but jovial, jocular, joyful, jubilant, merry, mirthful, and just plain happy.

In a perfect world, I’d be waxing eloquent about what an incredible start to the ski season it’s been. I’d still be high as a kite from last Sunday’s powder extravaganza on Whistler Mountain.

I’m just so excited I can hardly contain myself. No, it wasn’t Tuesday’s copious, light powder, though that was certainly sufficient excitement for one week, coming as it did after an unfortunate spate of nasty, sunny weather.