Ski Trip Recap

IN THE NEWS: A Salt Lake City woman who was in the Guinness Book of World Records for her long fingernails has had them broken off in a car accident. Read more here.


Okay. Let me repeat that I was not very excited about this getaway trip. I wanted a getaway on warm island, but instead I got snow and mountains and...exercise. What's that all about?

Anyhew, my hubby decided we should all take lessons on the first day. He took a snowboarding lesson and me and the girlie took ski lessons. In my group, there were three people: me, a woman who had been on skis before, her daughter, and me. I was the worst one. (Wow. I bet you didn't see that one coming.)
I was completely upfront with my instructor. I told him I was a mess. In fact, I told him not to bother learning my name and to just call me "big mess". He laughed, but then when he saw me in action, he wasn't laughing anymore. His name was Rich, learned to ski when he was thirty, is retired (from whatever he used to do) and now teaches skiing. (You learn a lot when you you ride the ski lift with a stranger for over an hour)

Rich was a complete saint and took me under his wing for the rest of the lesson since the mother and daughter team seemed to be fine on their own.
I call Rich a complete saint because he must have told me over and over again what I was doing wrong, I'd say "Yep, got it" then proceed to repeat the mistake all over again. He never showed his frustration.
Unfortunately, I didn't exactly reward him. About the fourth or fifth time on the ski lift, I took him out. Yeah. I took him out. When I got off the ski lift, I looked over my shoulder (at the nosie of someone falling) and there was Rich, sprawled out on the snow, chest down. I said, "Did I do that?" He said, "YES. You stabbed your pole into my ski when you got off the lift! I told you no poles!" Ooops.

I knew that. I really did. But I knew a lot of things about skiing that went right out the window as soon as I got out on my own. Anyway, at the end of the unsuccessful lesson, he ended up pulling (dragging, if you will) me to the area to pick up my daughter, I thanked him profusely, then after we broke for lunch I somehow ended up doing worse than when I started. That's when I threw in the towel--or skis in this case.

I had a bruised thumb, black and blue marks on my legs and I could barely walk because my calves were so sore. So I took the next day off and let the hubby and kiddo go skiing by themselves. (I took a well deserved nap, which did wonders for my sour disposition)

But while I napped, the kiddo learned how to ski. The hubby held her hand and they would go down the hill together.
By the second day, she didn't need to hold his hand.

And by the third day, the bunny hill was getting boring, so she had to zig zag through the ski lift poles to make the run longer and more interesting.

She also learned to make some cool turns as she got off the ski lift.

I must say, we had beautiful weather. I actually was sweating, and by the third day the kiddo was skiing without a jacket because it was whopping 58 degrees.

Dang, I'm so proud of the girlie. She's actually ready to get off the bunny hill. The whole time I watched her I kept thinking, The baby is skiing. It's kind of surreal. But at the same time I was thinking, Why can't I do that! It's also very frustrating.

I told the hubby I would take another lesson--if/when we go skiing again, which I imagine we will since the kiddo LOVED it. If by the third time, I still can't ski, I will accept my fate as a big fat loser. But I want so much to ski with them.

That's pretty much the trip. I'm still sore and I'm having a hard time walking up and down my stairs. But all in all, we had a good time together.

The kiddo is off from school, so we'll be doing some things together today. (After I take another Advil)

Have a great weekend!