Whistler: home of the 2010 Winter Olympics and many happy cougars!

Born and raised on the West Coast, Whistler feels like my backyard. I had my first kiss on a chairlift and the good times on the mountain haven’t ever stopped. I’ve rung in countless new years up there and had my bachelorette party there too. Anniversaries, family vacations, friends weddings, ski trips – the reasons to go to Whistler are endless. And now with the 2010 Winter Olympics legacy highway, I can get up there in 75 minutes flat!

I’ve travelled to many fabulous cities all over the world – London, Paris, Seoul, Tokyo, New York, Miami – but there is nothing like partying in Whistler! People from all over the world travel to Whistler to ski hard and party harder. Everyone up there seems to be on vacation from life and the energy is intoxicating.

With the weather hovering around the minus 18 degrees mark last weekend, my girlfriends and I decided to take our daily exercise indoors this year. Eschewing our skis and the necessarily unattractive balaclavas, we headed to Buffalo Bills. Bills is a long standing Whistler institution and our favourite place to dance the night away. We danced for more than 9 hours straight over our 2 day girls weekend (I think some of us secretly aspire to audition for Dancing with the Stars). We danced with a veritable United Nations of people – Scots, Swedes, Welsh, Aussies, Kiwis, Americans, Quebecois, liftees, locals, Vancouverites, hockey players, entire bachelor parties, and even women! My cheese and cracker dinner did not provide enough fuel for this dance-athon and by about 11PM, I needed a pick me up. Thanks to our friendly bartender, we discovered Jager Bombs, an absolutely delicious concoction of Red Bull and Jagermeister. 3 Jager Bombs later, I was still buzzing at 4AM and had to force myself to lie down, only to be woken abruptly by the morning train humming through Whistler Valley at 7AM. Red Bull really does give you wings, but so much for catching up on my beauty sleep!

As we were dancing with hordes (I’m not kidding) of appreciative younger men, we were struck by the fact that we were having way more fun than we’d had when we were single, footloose and fancy free. Now that we’re all happily married, it seemed a bit unfair that all these cute, six-packed opportunities would avail themselves to us. At one point, I was talking with a handsome, I-couldn’t-help-but-notice beefy young man, who told me he was giving up his hockey dreams despite being drafted by the Chicago Black Hawks to go to law school. My friends started laughing, thinking it a cheesy pick-up line (just as we had been telling people that we part of the Canadian bordercross team). But when I googled him yesterday, there his bio was. And I choked on my coffee, when I read that he was born in 1992!! At 42, I know my days at Buffalo Bills are numbered, but I’m going to savour every last delicious one of them.

I feel a bit like Benjamin Button, living my life in reverse. In my 20’s, I was a focused Working Girl, a la Melanie Griffith, working my way up the corporate ladder. I partied, but it was more about looking good and meeting qualified prospects to date. In my 30’s, I was a procreation/lactation machine and fun nights out dancing were few and far between. And if I did manage to get out and quaff a few drinks, I usually regretted them dearly the next morning. Now that I’m in my 40’s, dancing is so much fun because we don’t care who’s watching, we just give’r! And at Buffalo Bills, with at least 10 mountain men for every woman (Alaska eat your heart out!) it is a guaranteed good time!

Ironically, the best part about dancing with strange men all weekend is that you get all primed to see your hubby when you get home. Really, the hubby is the big winner in all of our girls weekends away. I become a happy wife again (which equals happy life, my hubby always says) with a boatload of memories that will keep me smiling through the next hundred loads of laundry. And I’m grateful that I get to sleep with my fabulous hubby, and no longer weeding through all those sweaty boys from around the world.

But still, it’s so much fun, I can’t hardly wait for the next one! And don’t even get me started on how much I love summer in Whistler!

Love Lucie


Warning: Cougars headed your way!

For about 360 days of the year, I am a quinoa-eating, hot yoga loving, green tea sipping, play-date organizing, kid chauffeuring, nutrition packing momma.

But once or twice a year, my girlfriends and I hit the road, leaving the hubbies and the kids to fend for themselves for 48-72 hours. It’s glorious – the freedom to eat olives, cheese and wine for dinner, and being able to sleep uninterrupted, woken neither by wandering hands in the middle of the night nor by kids who can’t reach the juice in the refrigerator in the morning.

But this freedom comes with a price. It can take weeks to plan adequate coverage so things will continue to run smoothly in our absence. While our husbands can jet off for work or boys weekends without underwear or a toothbrush, we moms must carefully write down the soccer/hockey/birthday party schedules/addresses/phone numbers for the weekend’s activities lest a child gets forgotten somewhere. We shop for, make and freeze multiple meals, and if we’re feeling generous, we’ll even line up a babysitter or grandparents to watch the kids just in case poor Daddy needs a break from parenting that whole time.


The minute I pull the hockey bags and juice-stained car seats out of my car, sending cheerios and half-eaten chicken nuggets flying through the air, my heart starts beating faster. Start throwing in skis, boots, and an overnight bag crammed with pretty tops and exciting books and I’m grinning like the Cheshire Cat! Pick up a couple of girlfriends, a couple boxes of white wine and nibbles and I feel like I’m 24 again – I’ve just gotten off work and it’s payday!

Watch out, cougars on the loose! Juicy details in my next post (as I am still catching up on my sleep, or lack thereof – thanks to Red Bull!)

Till we meet again,
Love Lucie

It takes a village

My husband goes out of town on occasion, mostly for work and annually for boys trips. When he leaves, some might argue that life is somewhat easier, as there is no need to have a nice dinner ready at 6PM or to shower and shave my pits every day.
However, as I’m about to take my first girls trip in YEARS, I feel overwhelmed by the amount of organization required to make sure all the kids make it to school with all their forms signed, that they’re picked up on time, fed, taken to their after school activities and brought home from play-dates. My girls trip is requiring a mountain of Post-It notes and a village of Moms to fill in until my husband gets home from work. My husband scoffs and says, “Don’t worry, we’ll be FINE!” which only makes me angry and reminds me of the time forgot to pick up our middle son last week! This is a man who forgets to eat lunch when distracted at work and has driven his car right out of gas on more than three occasions! Weekend getaways, he’s managed those before, but coaching the kids through 4 days of school AND the weekend is a whole new ballgame.
I have to wonder, is the stress worth it?
Hell ya!
Love Lucie