I left the city this past weekend for some skiing and relaxation at Gore. I love weekend ski trips. For New Yorkers, the alternative is doing a bunch of day trips throughout the season to places like Mountain Creek and Hunter Mountain, but I never really enjoyed those so-called "mountains" too much. And week-long trips to destinations like Park City, Vail or Whistler sound great, but don't work with my budget. So I prefer weekend ski trips. I like the atmosphere of non-stop eating and cooking that frequently occurs on weekend ski trips. Big meals, snacks, desserts, sometimes we invent mealtimes simply because we can. Throw in a cozy house, good company, nice snow conditions, some local brews, and a good book, and I'm pretty much set. Mountain life is good. Except the diamond and double-diamond runs, everything is slower here. I realize this as soon as I ease into the boiling hot tub cauldron. I do not miss the skyscrapers and concrete one bit. At Gore, I do not have Internet access. My cell phone doesn't even work for crying out loud. Life is simpler. I can stop and appreciate the beauty of a winding frozen stream or stare up and marvel at the stars and accompanying waxing gibbous moon (or was it waning?). God's artistry seemingly showcases much more vibrantly in the mountains compared to the city. I can also reflect on subjects that have fallen by the wayside and simply enjoy life's basic necessities: food, shelter, skiing, and outdoor hot tubs.