Brent and I have been talking all week about getting together on Friday for a ski day. We batted the weather back and forth like pickleball players placing bets and odds against the possibility of crowds for the long Martin Luther King holiday weekend.

On Wednesday, the weather said "mostly cloudy," and I had moved my odd's to 35% I'd go; however, by Thursday's spring-like temperatures, I was back to 50-50. I'm not too fond of skiing in low-hanging clouds and dodging a crowded ski slope, so I told Brent I doubted I'd be going skiing the following day.

It was still dark when I kissed Linda goodbye as she headed out the door to run the ski school at Eagle Point resort, and I buckled down to get some work done on the computer. At 8:22 am, I walked to the kitchen for another cup of tea. Glancing out the window, I was excited to see that the "mostly cloudy" forecast involved a wafer-thin layer of clouds well above the resort's highest point. I plugged my boot heaters in and texted Brent that my odds had just moved to 95 percent.

I kept the odds at 95 due to the possibility of winds near 15 mph. Fifteen is very skiable; however, 15 mph winds at Brian Head tend to turn into 25 and lift closures. On more than one occasion, I have driven up the mountain only to turn around and come home because no lifts were running.

The snow was epic, the wind blowing hard enough to create a layer of powder over the groomed runs keeping the terrain soft and subtle on the turns. Unfortunately, Brent texted and couldn't make it due to work, which was probably for the best because I'm still rebuilding my ski legs after knee surgery. So I skied to my heart's content, listening to music, basking in the thin sunshine, and ducking inward near the top of the resort where 15 mph winds indeed felt closer to 25 mph.