Thanks to my generous and wise younger brother Erik (affectionately known as ELF), I am enjoying a renewed interest in skiing. My sporty hubby and I headed up to Mount Baker to enjoy a clear day of skiing and cold. Though a chilly 19 degrees, the wind was nil and the sun out. Though my skill are lacking, thanks to the patient cheering of my husband, I didn’t feel like a giant sloth or outta-control orangutan on skis. My father-in-law was a ski instructor and my husband practically lived on the slopes growing up. He is remarkably experienced and smooth on any downhill, ice-covered terrain.
So, while Sporty Hubby swish-swashed his way down the mountain, I carefully snowplowed and slid most of the day. Though clumsy as a newborn calf, I enjoyed myself thoroughly and continue to be thankful for my brother’s thoughtful and kind gift.
To ensure that I didn’t feel too proud and haughty about the day, the skiing gods endeavored to trip me up. On the way out to the car, arms laden with skis and poles, I did a full out slip’n’fall – feet sproinging out from underneath me, skis and poles flying akimbo as my body suspended in the air before crashing painfully down on the ice covered pavement. To ensure complete humiliation, I started whimpering and tearing up with a full crowd looking on. Thankfully, the only thing I have to show for the fall is a diminished sense of ego and a painful elbow.
It was a great day of seriously fun physical activity. Now, if only I could stand up without my legs shaking uncontrollably …