I used to listen to Josh and Brandon talk about shredding, powder, runs, groomed trails,
lifts…my eyes slightly glazed over because skiing and snowy mountain sides had no place in my reality. My winters involved reading and knitting, Beethoven and Mozart – activities of the 
house-wifely nature that kept me within the warm confines of whichever home we were in at the time. How many winter homes now, Josh? 7? So I don’t know quite what prompted me to fork over $70 one weekend in order to leave my warm hearth and learn the intricate workings of snow-board bindings, boot lacing, fogged-up, bug-eyed Fly Girl goggles, and…falling on my ass. Over and over did I fall. Did the next day find me nursing a bruised backside and sprained wrists with a cup of cocoa and a copy of US Weekly? Historical data of Nicora’s winter-time habits would have the betting man placing his chips on Hell Yes! But no, back up in the snow was I, forking over yet more money. Lacing, strapping, swaying in the frigid wind on the lift. Any amount of money and pain, anything to bring back the exhilarating rush of cold, pure, winter wonder on my face during the minutia of time between falls.
lifts…my eyes slightly glazed over because skiing and snowy mountain sides had no place in my reality. My winters involved reading and knitting, Beethoven and Mozart – activities of the 
house-wifely nature that kept me within the warm confines of whichever home we were in at the time. How many winter homes now, Josh? 7? So I don’t know quite what prompted me to fork over $70 one weekend in order to leave my warm hearth and learn the intricate workings of snow-board bindings, boot lacing, fogged-up, bug-eyed Fly Girl goggles, and…falling on my ass. Over and over did I fall. Did the next day find me nursing a bruised backside and sprained wrists with a cup of cocoa and a copy of US Weekly? Historical data of Nicora’s winter-time habits would have the betting man placing his chips on Hell Yes! But no, back up in the snow was I, forking over yet more money. Lacing, strapping, swaying in the frigid wind on the lift. Any amount of money and pain, anything to bring back the exhilarating rush of cold, pure, winter wonder on my face during the minutia of time between falls.
1 comment:
dang it, now i have to take a lesson...there IS no minutia of time between MY falls
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