With a steady hand and an empty bladder

Nick and I played hooky from work on Tuesday to get in some turns at Sugarbowl. It was exciting, being alone and in the car with my husband, driving toward the snow. That is until I-80 stopped for an hour less than 10 miles from the resort because some idiot decided to drive recklessly in a snow storm and drive off the road.

We waited, watching the white downpour of bliss fall all around us. We waited while the big rigs and 17 Wal*Mart trucks chained up to head over the pass. We waited, listening to NPR discuss polls and the electability of Barack Obama. We waited, making jokes about anything and everything at all, trying to silence the voice inside both of us that said, "SKI NOW! IT IS SNOWING! SKIIIII NOOOOW!"

We waited until our grande lattes had converted to urine and were making it difficult to sit comfortably. Nick vowed he would wait to pee with me, knowing that I was not eager to cop a squat in a snow storm while four lanes of traffic and half of Wal*Mart's distribition line watched.

Three minutes later he hopped outside claiming the pain of his bladder was unbearable and solidarity is for suckers.

He peed so long he melted four inches of snow all the way down to the pavement. Then, as I punched his arm and wailed about my own soon-to-be-bursting bladder, he told me if I peed in my Starbucks water cup, he would dump it in the snow outside.

I decided I could do this. I had cup training throughout my pregnancy, so I'm pretty good at it now. Right as I'm getting started Nick says, "I hope you don't have to pee more than 16oz," which made me scoff, because who can do that anyhow?

I filled up that cup, TWICE, and true to his word, Nick took the cup and dumped it in the snow, trying not to laugh for fear of soiling his clothing.