The chill in the air has taken a bleak turn for the worse.
Yesterday, my best buddies went missing at Eaglecrest.
They often kept me jovial and happy, engulfing my hands in theirs and blanketing my digits with love.
My big blue snot-wipers are gone!
Yes, my big blue gloves, rated for like-40 below, are missing.
They accompany me on photography assignments in the cold.
After shooting ski races on Upper Hilary's run Saturday, I snowshoed back to my Jeep and placed them gently on the roof as I unlocked the door.
Tired and weary, I put my tools of the trade inside and collapsed in the front seat.
I did not see them peering down through the sunroof, or hear their bemused laughter as I started the Jeep.
I heard no "Hey there!" as I drove away about noon.
I heard no screams of terror or whoops of joy as they rode in the wind.
A friend said they saw one in the parking lot and the other a few hundred yards down the road.
They don't often travel alone; usually they’re inseparable.
I can only think the worst.
One is blue with a large thumb on the left and the other is blue with a large thumb on the right. They both have a patch of material on the back that is warm and cuddly and feels so nice against your nose.
They both appear larger than most pretentious ski gloves you see on the slopes, but don't be alarmed; they are friendly, big, water resistant mitts.
They must be pretty upset I left them out in the wild like that.
If they stuck to your wheels or if you picked them up hitchhiking please keep them warm.
Let them know I am sorry.
Tell them I still care.
Tell them I miss them.
Tell them I want them to come home.
Tell them we have some big jobs to do and I cannot do it without them.
Please encourage them to call home (518-0072), or work (523-2228), or to send an email (firstname.lastname@example.org), so I know they are okay.