Dinner time

This weekend was beautifully boring, as my wife and I admired the birth of spring in the Alps. Our Swiss friends warned we’d have a difficult time with the weather: too muddy to walk, too slushy to snowboard, too wet to head outside, too warm to stay inside. They were right, but our low British standards came through and we still had a blast, juxtaposing bits of boarding, napping, spa-ing, eating and watching trashy TV.

Yes, there was enough smoothie-making and pill-popping to remind me I’m still ‘fighting’—or whatever you want to call it—and should LIVE EVERY DAY LIKE IT’S MY LAST.  A spirit that makes me both laugh and cry: constant carpe diem is exhausting, like fighting for a drug-corner in Baltimore on The Wire: ‘I’ve been living today like it’s my last, and before I even got to lunch I realized if I was doing this daily I’d wind up killing myself before dinner. And then it really would be my last day. Every day. And I wouldn’t even have had dinner.’ (http://thebrainchancery.com/2013/11/04/living-every-day-like-its-your-last/)

If only because I want to return to these mountains, I made sure dinner did come about. 

Prost to wienerschnitzel, rosti, and Swiss (red!) wine. Prost to boring.