My Tough Kid

Toby dressed up as Mickey Rourke from the Wrestler last night for the Oscars.  He did this by giving himself a black eye just before bedtime.  He got so excited that I'd turned the bath on that he decided to SPRINT through the bathroom to the toilet, fall, and smash his face into the open drawer that was in his way.  Its a good thing we adults have grown out of our instinctual reactions to the excitement of bath time.

The GREAT thing is that he didnt need stitches.  Rob and I both went back into "sick kids mode".  One of us grabbed an ice pack while the other one grabbed "The Bear Book" and started reading.  We managed to keep some ice on his face for 10 minutes, gave him some advil, and had him in the bath and in bed on time.  We're a good team.

This morning, I was greeted by my beautiful boy with a jubilant smile and his multicoloured eye.

He's a tough kid.  In his first 11 months of life he's already gone through morphine withdrawl and gotten a shiner.  When anyone asks about this one all I'm going to say is -- "Oh, yeah? You should see the other kid..."

Why Not to Drink So Much....

Every now and then - -like, say, every 3 years or so, its good to remind yourself why its important not to drink too much.  And I guess my 31st birthday was as good a time as any to refresh my memory of the evil hangover.   When you spend a few YEARS either breastfeeding or pregnant, you watch your nonbreastfeeding-non-pregnant friends drinking with no inhibitions and you often think, "Doesn't drinking excessively look like FUN!?!?" .  Well I can tell you now from RECENT experience- - it is.  But the big question - -is it WORTH it?

Wednesday night was had 4 friends in for a "low key" birthday dinner for myself.  None of us had to work the next day and we turned it into a slumber party so no one had to drive home.  What started with a fancy dinner of fine cheeses, paella  and Amarone  soon progressed to rocking out with Rock Band and Beer and ended with a 3 hour hottub.  At 4am I had a sudden epiphany that it was BED TIME.

The next morning I woke up at noon.  

I am going to leave that as a complete paragraph because anyone who has a child under the age of 1 knows how RARE an occurance it is.  IN fact, I'll write it again  -- I woke the next morning at NOON.

I stepped out of the bedroom and scared my husband.  I then looked in the mirror and scared myself.  It was hardly possible, but I actually LOOKED as bad as i felt.  We're not sure if I was an allergy or just windburn but my entire face was red, swollen and blotchy.  I also had pink eye and had pus crusting both eyes which were swollen as well from either the pink eye or the mysterious ailment that was inflaming my face.  And my hair.  Oh my crazy hair.  Its ridiculous at the best of times, but imagine it after 3 hours of rocking out on the drums followed by a 3 hour hot tub and then being slept on the the strange position I finally ended up in.  It had a mind of its own.

As I stepped out of the bedroom my sudden splitting headache reminded me that the only thing worse than drinking excessive amounts of red wine, beer and bar shooters...was drinking an excessive amount of red wine, beer and bar shooters and then sitting in a hot tub for 3 hours.   That's a sure way to guarantee that  there was not an OUNCE of fluid left in my entire body.

Needless to say, it was a pyjama-and-glasses-day at our house.  Which Toby loves.  Mommy in her glasses = fun because if you pull them OFF her face, she IMMEDIATELY leaps up and grabs them out of your hands.  So its challenging and rewarding all in one.  We both made some changes to the game yesterday morning.  I, for one, was not able to jump up and chase after my glasses.  So Toby decided to singlehandedly spice up the game by announcing his arrival at my face by SCREAMING Into my ear before YANKING my glasses off my face.

I give props to my husband.  Not only was he a sport and stayed up with me until 3am - -he got up  with Toby and took care of him ALL DAY LONG while I wallowed in post party depression and played the role of dead beat mom with flourish.  And he didn't make me feel guilty ONCE.  I think he knows we won't be doing this again for another 3 years.  

SO for all of you who are pregnant or breastfeeding - -yes, those of us on the other side of life right now ARE having fun.  But give us a call the next day and we'll gladly trade places with you...

Happy Valentines Day!

We don't usually celebrate Valentines Day, but are feeling way to thankful for our little guy to let this day go without some sort of acknowledgement....So we dressed him up in his "I love my family" shirt and decided to take a photo to send to his grandparents.  Easier said than done.  Little did I know, our fancy high tech camera has the greatest toy-appeal in the house right now and I engaged in cruel torture play by not letting him get his hands on it. I would pose him and then try to snap a photo quickly before he LUNGED at the camera.  It took about an hour and we finally managed to get one "angelic" photo of him.  Now when I look at it it appears as if he's just sitting there patiently, thinking adoringly of how much he loves his family.  The reality is, he's catching his breath before making another ATTACK on the camera.  But we won't tell the grandparents that.

We don't have big plans today -- we were supposed to go out with friends but have ended up just spending time with Toby and after he goes to  bed we're going to have a nice quiet dinner at home.  A few months ago that may have sounded boring and ordinary but right now it's absolute perfection...

This morning we awoke bright and early to the sounds of "bap bap bap" (his favourite new "saying") as he happily played with his crib toys and moments later I had Rob and Toby bouncing into bed with me.  It was just after 7am and I was being smothered with kisses and baby drool.  It was the best valentine's day present ever.

Peanut Butter Shampoo

I can't believe its already almost been a week since my last post  - - we've been keeping busy enjoying Toby's new developments.  Last week we finally figured out why he kept picking things up and WHACKING himself in the head with them.  He thinks anything with buttons on it is a cell phone - -and obviously, the thing to DO with a phone is put it up to your ear!  As soon as we discovered this we a) rejoiced in the fact that he wasn't engaging in self harm behavior and b) reinforced the new behavior by laughing and imitating it back to him.  So now Toby thinks EVERYTHING is a cell phone.  

Yesterday when I got home from work his hair was wet.  Apparently Toby even applied his new game to his breakfast piece of toast with peanut butter.  The boys had a post-breakfast shower that day.

Peanut Butter is Toby's second new passion (second only to the cell phone game, of course).  Rob stayed true to his word and started Toby on it last week.  I think it was day #2 in the ICU when the doctors announced that they were going to start Toby on a third and "more powerful antibiotic" that Rob threw up his hands in despair and said, "That's IT.  When we get home I'm giving him PEANUT BUTTER. "  After MONTHS of patiently waiting 3 days between introducing new foods and ensuring he didn't ACCIDENTALLY eat anything with egg whites in it until his first birthday - -Toby has proved to us that he can handle just about ANYTHING.  So we slipped him some PB a month shy of his 1st birthday.  ANd he loves it.  (It especially feels good in the hair...)

He's also been enjoying some tobogganing outside.  WHat he REALLY likes is when we pull him down to the lake in knee deep snow.  Its a pretty good workout for mom -- ESPECIALLY when he gets tired of being in his sled and I have to carry him AND the sled back while balancing through the  deep snow.  We do have snowshoes that I could wear but our little man has acquired MY patience, so we don't have time to wait for me to slip them on before we have to get MOVING!!!

That's all the news from here.  Tomorrow night I'm going on a romantic couples valentines dinner out at one of the nicest restaurants in Collingwood.  Rob's going to soccer.  SO basically it will be me and 2 other couples.  They're such good friends that they've already pointed out that if its at ALL awkward least I"ll be able to blog about it :)  I'll keep you posted....

The Gym

I go to the gym regularly.  But only on weekdays (which eliminated Sat/Sun).  And only on days when I'm in the office (which eliminates Tuesdays and Fridays).  And only when I'm working with Care (which eliminates Thursdays.)   And only ever on our lunch breaks when neither of us are running behind,  And only ever on days when one of us doesn't have some sort of life crisis going on that necessitates a good deep fried meal at the greasy spoon restaurant across the street. 

That's right. I go to the gym regularly- -which averages about once a week.  But boy do we feel good about it.  

This whole thing with Toby's illness and me being off work for 3 weeks really threw off our regular exercise program.  We have both noticed the effects.   Care and I usually talk a couple of times a day, but lately we've had to add in an extra late night phone call to make sure the other one was COMMITTED to going back to the gym the next day and initiating our return to the gym.  Care is a good friend- - she sticks to the rules, too.  I'm sure she was tempted, but she remained loyal during my entire absence and didn't venture to the gym without me ONCE.

And so we recommenced our regular exercise routine last week.  I didn't go my first day back because we had things to talk about and paperwork to do -- and we also hadn't been to Tim Hortons together in a while.  Priorities.  But the Wednesday we had no excuse and we ventured back.

The problem came this week - -I was just getting back into the grind when out of the BLUE Care forgot her gym clothes.  Usually, when this happens, its a  welcome excuse for both of us to throw up our hands in innocence and make our way to Tim Hortons or some other lunch venue.  But last Wednesay marked the 4 week mark of my flirtation with complete inactivity.  And for the first time in my LIFE...I decided to bite the bullet and.....(don't judge me on this)....go to the gym...on my own...

It was a battle of willpower.  But I did it.  And I was bored.  And I felt guilty. And I was well aware of the fact that I would have much rather been leisurely sipping on a cup of Timmy's with Care...but I thought I was doing the right thing.   But these feeling were all minor compared to the HORROR I discovered when I got back to the change room....

I got to the change room and it was FULL of people. Which was probably about 5 but its a small gym and an even smaller change room and its really REALLY awkward when you're changing with 5 other women in very close quarters  you don't want to make eye contact with but you're not REALLY sure are not your patients.

SO I quickly grabbed my towel and headed for the showers.  Care and I don't usually shower.  We don't really work up TOO much of a sweat what with all the chatting that we do while exercising.  So I was feeling a bit out of sort already as I ventured to the shower room on my own.  I spent an extra bit of time in the shower, hoping that the giant change room crowd would have dissipated by the time I had finished.  I guess I underestimaed my showering speed.

As I grabbed my towel and my clothes I realized with HORROR what I had done.

I hadn't packed a towel at all.

I'd packed a rag.

A very nice rag, mind you.  A while terry-cloth rag with blue stripes on it. I'm sure at one point in its life it was a piece of a beautiful big bath towel.  Unfortunately, now it was a rag that was probably all of 10x10cm.  Which isn't much when your'e about to face a gym room full of skinny-work-out-women-who-may-or-may-not-be-your-patients.  And WHERE was Care in all of this?  Probably safely back at the office sipping tea and doing paperwork.  Ah, paperwork.  How I longed to be fully clothed doing paperwork.

It didn't take me long to run down my options.  I didn't have very many. I could either put back on my sweaty gym clothes or make a mad dash for my locker with my little rag protecting me from the crowds of staring women.  The answer was pretty evident.  I knew what I had to do.  And the REAL question became...WHICH genital to cover up....I had the option of the front, the back or the left or the right boob.  Now, most of you may think its a no brainer- - the front -- ALWAYS the front.  ESPECIALLY when you've spent the last month of your life at a hospital living on the bare necessities which DON"T INCLUDE razors.  But it wasn't that clear cut- - keep in mind I was planning to RUN Into the change room- -does one REALLY want their cellulitic ass bouncing around for all to see?  What about bouncing-saggy-post-breast-feeding-boobs?  But if I covered one then the other one would still be in plain sight...

I didn't think it through all that much longer. I opted for a weird dance-like-shimmy as I threw my arms about in flurried movements, covering various genitals in alternating succession while my feet did a kind of Greek grape vine like shuffle to my locker. Thank GOD I didn't fall fall on my face.  Or into my locker.

I made it out of the gym that day alive but missing a part of my dignity.  I was still red faced when I got back to the office and Care casually asked me if I'd had a good time.

No, I said.  I missed you.   I don't think I'll go it alone again anytime soon.

Enough said.

Happy 11 Month Milestone, Toby!!!

I'm writing this post in honour of my little guy who made it through the 10th and worst month of his life and is now officially 11 months old!!!  Yes, we are ALL glad to have month #10 behind us and move on to bigger and better things.

So here's the official 11 month update on our Toby Bear....

11 things that Toby likes...

1.  Mum mums and bananas

2.  Helium Get well balloons.  Brightly coloured and with a mind of their own -- you hit them and they bounce back!

3.  Food.  Any food.  ESPECIALLY food that someone ELSE is eating.  This includes ; brie, thai food, goat cheese, pickles and toast with jam...he'll pretend to like ANYTHING if we're willing to share...

4.  His cell phone bath toy.  By some miraculous feat of technology this cell phone ONLY rings when its submerged in bath water.

5.  Our stereo system, the dirt in the plant in our bedroom, my ear plugs, any magazine or book that is easily torn and electrical plugs...

6.  Photos of himself

7.  Grandparents- - and he's got a LOT of them

8.  Music - -especially Shania, Rob's guitar playing and his dance baby dance CD

10.  Cars, trucks and Thomas the Tank Engine

11.  Touch and feel books

11 Things that Toby Hates

1.  Bed time

2.  Helium Get Well Balloons.  They're REALLY cool for the first 30 seconds...but they really DO have a mind of their own - you hit them and they BOUNCE BACK!!! Creepy...

3.  HIs snowsuit

4.  Wearing hats or shoes

5.  Having to lie still while we (God forbid) change his diaper

6.   Blueberries

7.   Not being allowed to touch items in #5 of the first list

8.  Anything that requires patience 

9.  Nap time

10.  NOt being able to play with the drain or the hot water dial during bath time

11.  HIs sleep sack

11 Things that Toby can do that we think are pretty cool...

1.  Climb UP the stairs

2.  Climb DOWN the stairs (he learned today how to do this WIHTOUTH going head first!)

3.  Dance, dance and dance

4.  SHake things on command

5.  Wave good bye

6.   Give kisses.  LIke as in wide mouthed slobbery ones aimed for your mouth.

7.  Squat down to pick things up

8.  Cruise around while casually dragging only a few fingers on the wall for balance

9. Empty ANY drawer in the house (including the dishwasher at Grandma's house)

10.  Take a few steps

11.  Imitate the noise machines make ie : the magic bullet, the hairdryer, Rob's electric razor, the humidifyer in his bedroom...he's got the throaty growl down pat...

He's changing day to day and learning new things all of the time.  Yesterday I had him to myself for the entire afternoon....and I almost lost my MIND by the end of it.  He didn't nap the entire time and spent his awake time trying to eat dirt or electrocute himeslf.  This kid has his energy, his mischeviousness and the sparkle in his eyes back.  And we appreciate every second of it.

Happy 11 months, Toby bear.  We are so looking forward to the next 11...and the next...and the next....

 We love you,

XOXO

Mommy and Daddy

The Frozen Lasgne

I think its all starting to hit me...just when everyone has stopped asking if I'm "OK" I'm finding my answer not to be as clear cut as before.  Not to worry -- I'm still "OK", I think I'm just past the "survival" and the "Denial" and the "glad to be home"  phase and am into a bit more of the "now I'm back to work - -holy shit I feel tired" phase.

That's basically my biggest complaint - - I'm tired.  I wake up in the morning and I'm tired. I lie there for 30 minutes...and I'm still tired.  Yesterday was my first day back at work - -and usually after I've been away for a while I come back to work with a whole new sense of energy.  I walked into the room to see my first patient yesterday and I felt this wave of fatigue hit me.  And every patient I saw after that just made me more and more tired.

 Its an interesting thing, how the body manifests sadness as fatigue.  I didn't realize at first that this is what it was, but last night, for the first time since this all began, I had dream after dream about TOby being in the hospital and in the ICU.  The dreams weren't scary or anything -- there were balloons and friends and lots of medical jargon.  But its a sign to me that this whole ordeal has been integrated into my subconscious and maybe its finally "taking its toll".

Don't worry -- I'm fine.   If I wasn't fine I wouldn't be writing this.   I expected this.  Its part of the healing process.  I"ll get through it and I'm still doing well.  And as with everything in life, its giving me insight into what patients go through . SO often we see people come in complaining of "fatigue" and its OBVIOUS to us that they're depressed, or anxious or smoking too much marijuana (that's the HARDEST thing to enlighten them on).  And now I'm experiencing, probably in a much milder form, that feeling of being completely drained all of the time, despite my best efforts to sleep, eat and exercise.  I get it.  The mind and the body are connected.  And hopefully a good dose of normalcy will help both to recuperate.

Its been interesting how this whole experience has affected my work.  Last week, one of my palliative patients started the end stage of her dying process.  I was glad that I was back.  The family and I have been through a lot together-  its been a long process and we've had to work through  the denial and anger and luckily were given the time to make it through to the acceptance phase before this lovely lady died.  I could tell the family was relieved to hear that Toby was OK (which meant a lot considering what they were going through...) and that I was around.  So I drove over to do a home visit last week.  As I pulled out of my driveway I thought, "I should really be taking them one of the frozen casseroles that we have in our freezer"  - -people were so generous to us when Toby was sick.  And I realize now more than ever how so VERY Important a home cooked meal is.  We wouldn't have eaten ANYTHING if ti hadn't been for the baked goods and casseroles given to us by such kind friends.

So I left my house thinking that a home cooked meal was probably just what these people need as they sit vigil over their dying loved one.  And then I remembered the frozen lasagne in our freezer and felt guilty for not having brought it wiht me.  Which is odd- - I don't USUALLY bring meals to my patients.  But the further I got from my home, the more I wished I had brought the frozen lasagne with me.  SO much so that by the time I got to Wasaga beach I turned into the Superstore and parked my car.  Its at this point that I had rationalized that even a non-home-cooked-frozen-lasagne would do.  Its at this point that I  "checked myself" --   The conversation went something like this,

me : "I really want to buy this lovely family a frozen lasagne - - what's so wrong with that"

devils-advocate-brain :  "That's not appropriate"

me : "WHY isn't that appropriate?"

devils advocate : "Because doctors don't DO that"

And so I thought about it and concluded that the reason our medical insurance providers advise against bringing things to patients is because it may make them feel "awkward" and, according to them - -its a slippery slope.  And if I thought about it, I suspect if my mother was dying, I wouldn't want my doctor getting all "chummy" on me - -I'd want her to use sound clinical judgement and tell me her clinical assessment of my mother and then leave me to my grief.  But human beings aren't compartmentalized like that.  And our roles aren't  black and white. My new founded compulsion to buy this family a frozen lasagne stemmed from the "human" aspect of me. Not as their doctor. Not as their friend. But as someone who has been through something horrible and knows first hand HOW practical and useful frozen food can be.  

So I rationalized to myself that I would take them dinner on THREE conditions :

1.  I brought them frozen lasagne and a salad.  No garlic bread. That took it one step too far.

2.  That I would be VERY casual about it when I got to the house and give it to them in the grocery store bag and very quickly say, "I brought you some dinner for when you're hungry" and encourage them to put it in the freezer ASAP and not look at it or dwell on it so I could get on to my purpose of being there -- as a doctor.

3.  If it seemed at ALL awkward that I had just brought them dinner I would simply say, "Not to worry- -its not home made or anything!"  which would hopefully minimize the whole weirdness and brush it off.

So I got to the superstore and bought a frozen lasagne  and a small thing of cesaar salad.  I handed it to the husband when I got there and he was very grateful for dinner but didn't make a big deal of it.  I only had to use the line about it being "not homemade" once when he mentioned to his daughter how kind it was of me to bring them dinner.  So I left feeling good about my new quirky compulsion.

I actually FORGOT about the whole lasagne incident for a few days....until the patient passed away and I went to the visitation.  Those are always awkward when you're the doctor.  And being fond of palliative care, its not an uncommon occurance.  I always feel like there's SOME family member who would like to take me outside and tear a strip off of me for "not doing more" for their loved one.  So far it hasn't happened.  But this visitation wasn't without its awkwardness because the damn FROZEN LASAGNE came back to haunt me.

After having rehearsed my standard "visitation lines" in the parking lot (I swear, I do all my best thinking in parking lots these days...) I entered the funeral home and walked straight into the son of the deceased who immediately BURST into tears and said, "Dr Boyd! Thank you SO much for the LASAGNE!!!"

I have to admit. That's not one of the standards.  My brain quickly ran through my prepared lines - -"I'm sorry for your loss"..."Our thoughts are with you"..."If there's anyhting I can do - -please just ask"....

Before I could think of any more my mouth opened and out came..."Well, it wasn't home made or anything!"

The son smiled (slgihtly)  and then ushered me inside and introduced me to more family members.  It wasn't long before the husband was by my side, thanking me for all of the care I'd provided to his wife etc...he concluded by introducing me to a group of people and saying, "This is our doctor. She brought us a lasagne for dinner"  This was met by silence. (OH my God -- it WAS Inappropriate).  Again, before my brain had run through the USUAL visitation lines out popped, "Oh, don't worry, it wasn't Home made or anything!"  

A few chuckles.

At which point the uncle pulled me aside.

"That was very nice of you to bring the lasange. You mentioned it wasn't home made. Where did you buy it?"

(OH, good gracious -- Did the Superstore sound tacky?  Would it be more personal if I just said I found it in my freezer?  Or was that creepy?)

Not to worry- the uncle interrupted himself, "you know, we usually just do our own lasagne's in the microwave.   I believe YOURS required the OVEN"

No, I hadn't read the instructions on the frozen lasagne.  I was so worried that it was the wrong thing to do that I had just picked up the first one I'd seen. Was reheating a frozen lasagne REALLY that complicated? I stuttered a somewhat inappropriate, "Well...all lasagne's are different..." remark before being whisked away to meet the 3rd son who I had yet to met.

 "Ah yes," he said, "You're the doctor! Mom was so fond of you. ANd thank you SO much for the lasagne"

I paused.

I waited.

And finally (after glancing around to make sure no one overheard) said to him, in a pitiful whisper, "Oh it was nothing.  Its not like it was homemade..."

I left the funeral parlor CURSING the devils advocate of my brain.  ALthough there was no RATIONAL reason why taking a meal over to a family who obviously needed it was a bad idea, the OUTCOME of my new founded awkwardness left me with once DECISIVE decision : Next time I think I'll make a home made one.

The Comic Relief

Its time i introduce my story-telling's best character : My father.  My father provides much of the eye rolling, exasperated sighs and comic relief in my family and most of my stories.  He's a lovely, mildly demented, loving 80 year old man who ADORES his grandson and would be up here every day if we let him.

So this weekend he came up with my mom for a visit so Rob and I could go out for dinner and for a ski and they could spend some quality time with Toby.  We had a great time with them and on the Friday night we decided to play some cards.  Which is EXTREMELY good for my dad's brain...when he remembers what game we're playing and how to play it.

We decided to play "Crazy bridge" which is also known as "Oh shit". It differs from bridge in that its always no trump and you have to declare how many tricks you're going to take and get that many exactly or you don't get any points.  My dad would do well at betting on how many tricks he'd get, but halfway through the hand, without fail, he'd FORGET that he only wanted so many tricks and just start trying to get as many as he could.  When we'd point this out to him he'd either say, "WHAT?!?!? This is a CRAZY game..." or occasionally, "Oh, SHIT!!!"  The card game sure lived up to its name.

By the end of the night we realized that we didn't have to keep score for dad - -at the end of each hand when the rest of us figured out if we'd gotten the number of tricks we'd predicted, we just announced to dad (in excited voices), "You got 5 tricks!!!" to which he'd say, "Did I?  Oh, GOOD!"  He had a good time.  We know that, because (as usual) he asked us if we'd like to move back home with them.  Not this year, dad.  But thanks for the offer.

Rob and I had a fantastic day skiing with Care and Pete yesterday.  Care's parents generously gave us guest passes to Georgian Peaks.  Its really neat to be able to go skiing in Collingwood on a WEEKEND and not wait for hours and hours in line.  It was cold, but nothing that those crazy handwarmers and a beer at lunch couldn't fix.  

Speaking of the magical hand warmers- -those things are incredible.  I kept those magical hand warmers in my gloves all the way home and marvelled at their ability to keep heat.  What is IN them that makes them juts the PERFECT temperature for 10 whole hours!?!??! WOW!!!  I wanted to make a blanket out of them for night time...or put them in my coffee mug to keep my coffee warm for 10 hours...as i was fantasizing about all of the magical things I could make out of the mysteriously-warm substance that was in them, my daydream was rudely cut short as Rob-my-environmentally-friendly-to-a-fault-husband pointed out that it was PROBALBY just some sort of chemical reaction.  And probably a really SIMPLE one, too.  AND LIKELY those two 4x4cm little bundles of joy were EXTREMELY toxic for the environment because when we threw them in the landfill the magical chemicals would seep into the ground and poison fish and then baby bears would eat the fish and then DIE from the crazy chemicals.  All because I wanted to have warm hands while skiing.

I have a feeling my days of skiing with warm hands are over....  Although I may keep a secret  stash of mitten warmers in a secret location...along with REAL light bulbs and wrapping paper and those crazy candys that EXPLODE in your mouth.  And one day Toby can find it and it'll be like a TIME capsule of environmental NIGHTMARES of the past.

You may be wondering how beer at lunch kept us warm.  And if you are, you're probably not a very good beer drinker.  So maybe you're reading the wrong blog... But I GUESS I can see your point.  There's nothing really quite as nice as a beer after a hard morning of skiing.  But for some reason, (maybe it was the altitude?  We WERE skiing on a mountain...) we all got a little tipsy after our 1 beer at lunch.  And that made us feel warm.  But more importantly, it added a little "je ne sais quoi" to our skiing...which was fun for the first few runs.  I knew it was time to call it quits when I was going down the hill thinking, "Wow-  -I seem to be going fast...maybe its because I'm not turning... its so much easier just to go straight down and not waste energy on turning....speedy speedy...."  So we called it a day.   A great day.