A Ski Bunny is Born

"You look stunning," I said, "if I new we were dressing for dinner I'd have come more prepared" "What, this outfit?" She said dismissing it "I don't ever wear pants or frumpy clothes if I can help it" "Well" I said, "to coin a phrase you certainly look a million dollars dressed like that" "Why thank you" she said coyly "come on, let's go"

The restaurant was in fact a small bistro, but served excellent food and wine. We both ordered the house special of spaghetti and Italian meatballs, and to wash it down a bottle of red wine. Eating spaghetti has never been my forte, especially when it's dripping in tomato sauce. After a couple of half-hearted attempts I managed to slap myself around the face slurping on a rather long strand of the stuff, and splashing tomato sauce over my face and white shirt in the process. Kim thought that was hilarious and started giggling. She giggled so much that the table wobbled, knocking over my glass of red wine which spilt all over my side of the table, dribbling down onto my shirt and jeans. She didn't seem at all sorry and started howling even more at my predicament. 'It's just a good job that the bistro isn't busy' I thought to myself. By this time I was in a bit of a mess so I thought 'what the hell' and tucked into my meal.

By the end of our meal my white shirt was speckled all over with tomato sauce and my jeans had a huge damp red wine stain right in the groin area. Kim had faired a little better than me, and only had a couple of small splashes on her blouse, which she said I did anyway. The time in the restaurant flew by with no awkward pauses in our conversation and it was soon time to go.

I paid the bill and we left, getting some strange looks from the other customers, mainly due to the state of my shirt and jeans. When we arrived back at the cabin she put on a CD and opened another bottle of wine. "Do you mind if I smoke?" She asked "I don't smoke, but don't let me stop you " I said.