This weekend felt like a mini-vacation, and I think it was the skiing what did that. Blog-free Kim and Neal’s bf joined us for a shorter trek than we took on Friday. I’ll admit to some serious cranky pants attitude when we were halfway up a steep hill and BF Kim mentioned that the point of going up was to come down.
"I wish they’d effing told me that," I pouted and potty mouthed, with a few curses and yells as I struggled to the top.
Then we got up there. I apologized for the expletives. No one cared. Neal went down the hill. Kim and her faithful friend Clancy took it with grace and style.
"You go next," Brian said.
"No, I don’t want to trip you up when I fall."
"Go. I want the fastest run."
I stood at the top, told myself to maintain balance, and I flew. Ok, so it wasn’t flying, but it sure felt like it. I whooped my way down, and the rest of the trek home, I felt pretty damn pleased with myself.
I may need to take up down hill skiing. Just saying.
🙂
I think I need a pepsi. I read that as Neal’s boyfriend and was very confused for a minute there. /sigh
Best friend. Best friend!
I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself, my Bev. *hugs*
At least with down hill you get to sit down all the way up the mountain (and have a sip of schnapps if you are in the right company).