Last night we stayed at this über nice cabin up in Whistler. It was one of those places that looked like how things should be made, you know? Like everything was designed down to the last detail in a way that made it look easy and obvious, similar to watching Shaun White snowboard. It's funny how when something is done well it looks so easy, but when something is done poorly it's not always obvious how to make it better.
This morning the dad and I, then later the brother, "had a hot tub," as my Uncle Jon says. It was pretty great. We woke up at our leisure, had a bowl or two of cereal (the breakfast of champions), then soaked in the hot tub for like an hour. It completed me. I have decided that I am hot tub folk.
There weren't any events up in Whistler that we wanted to see that day, so around noon or so we packed up the car and took a leisurely drive back to Vancouver. We stopped at a couple of the scenic overlooks which was kind of fun. How often do you see signs for stuff like that and never stop? British Columbia is really so beautiful. It reminded me of my visit to Portland—hooray for the Pacific northwest—and my desire to move to this area of the world was rekindled. Perhaps after bookbinding school I'll move out to Portland and get those chickens after all.