The Joys of Downhill Skiing (#271)

Wondering where I’ve been?

Working on maple sugar rugelach.

Well, first I was in the kitchen, covered in flour, making Christmas cookies. Tons of cookies, because we were meeting up with the familial horde in Utah.

Then we were on the road, and then we hit the slopes.

The slopes of Brian Head beckon.

It’s been years since I last went skiing. It’s not exactly like I remember. Maybe because I’m older and less resilient.

For those who don’t ski, it goes something like this:

First you freeze as your skiis dangle twenty-thirty feet above the ground on the chairlift.

Then you sweat as you dig in your edges and turn on sheets of ice (known in hopeful ski report parlance as “packed granular).”

Then you freeze again on the chairlift as the wind picks up.

Sweat. Freeze. Sweat. Freeze.
Oh my God I’ve skied into the trees.
Ski Patrol can you help me please.
Never mind, I made it through.
Spitting out needles, as you do.
Sweat. Freeze. Sweat. Freeze.
Holy crap, I’ve killed my knees.
I’m limping out, though I came in to slay.
Why did I opt for a ski holiday?
It’s more like torture than Christmas cheer
And yet you know I’ll be back next year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published by

Autumn Ashbough

WF writing about the humorous perils of life with Chinese-American significant other.

5 thoughts on “The Joys of Downhill Skiing (#271)”

  1. I remember my very brief skiing days. I only went in good weather (if there ever was any). Only on beginner to moderate intermediate slopes. Then I discovered the sweet indoor bars where there were hot drinks. Somehow my days of skiing got shorter and shorter as I wondered how long I had to ski before I could retreat to the warmth. I actually was on a ski trip to Lake Placid in NY and found a way to not ski at all. Then I retired from the sport completely. Enjoy your holiday and the baked goods sound wonderful!

If you liked this, let the white girl know!