Home Again, Home Again

Jiggety Jig. So glad to be home. We skied hard this trip because we knew it was our last until early 2009. But we skied so hard that on the last two days, we pooped out early, tired and sore from overdoing it the first 4 days. Husband wiped out hard and did a face plant, complete with fat lip, on day 4 (I missed it; only saw him getting up with help from a man and his teenage son).

I should talk, though, because the day before, I fell down the mountain myself. Or maybe I mean I slid down the mountain. Conditions were not so good. It was very icy and we were on a black run we'd never skied before. I'm a decent skier. Proficient on greens and blues and easy blacks. This was not an easy black. It was steep, bumpy, and icy.

I lost control, tried to stop, and fell in the trying. First, I fought it. My skis were in the way; I was falling with my front facing up the mountain and my skis were perpendicular to the fall line. I kept trying to get my skis back under me as I slid, but it wasn't happening. I lost a pole. Finally, I got my skis behind me (not on purpose) and ended up sliding down head first. Once I got my skis out of the way, the falling got much easier, so I decided to lay back and enjoy it.

A funny thing my husband and I discovered about each other: we both laugh our asses off as and after we fall. After I finally drifted to a stop and managed to squelch the hysterical laughter, did husband call up to inquire about my welfare? Did he take his skis off to climb up to assist me? Negative. Instead, he yelled up, "get up, you lazy sack, that's taking the easy way down," which...was actually true.

E took group lessons again (she had a boy coach, Chris, who she was quite crushing on and yes, I know she's only 5, but she was). Kids. They're amazing. The second to last day, I took her up the mountain with me after her lesson and let her lead the way down. She took me to the terrain park where she wanted to go in the half-pipe, but I wouldn't let her ("Did Chris let you go in in the half-pipe?????" "Yes, mom!") but I did let her (as if I had a choice) go on some jumps and do some "boxes" (I had no idea what these were, though her instructor had told us she did them the day before and I pretended to know what he was talking about -- basically, it's sliding on a rail, for lack of a better description). I'm not saying my kid's an Olympian (she's so tiny, she can hardly get going fast; she needs more weight); but she's fearless, enthusiastic, and confident. I was so impressed. The E I see every day is not that confident (lately she's been downright whiny & needy)...she used to be, but I think some of it's being squashed out of her; maybe even by (gasp!) her mother. So I am going to endeavor to cultivate that side of her. It was lovely to see.

E and I in line at the chair lift en route to the terrain park
Almost every time we go to Steamboat, T tries to talk me in to moving there. We are going to spend some time there this summer, so I'll get to see what it's like when there's no snow and no skiing (instead there's hiking, mountain biking, golfing, fishing, yadda yadda yadda); it'll be less touristy and I might even get a chance to check out downtown Steamboat and do a little shopping. Find a restaurant that serves decent food and not the slop they serve up to the tourists. After that, maybe I'll be ready to talk.