On Skiing

It dumped snow on Wednesday and this evening brought more flurries. After spending a couple of days on the mountain last week, with sunny skies, 45 degree weather, and lots of people out to scrape the top layer down to a glassy slick, I finally understand why everyone gets so dang excited about fresh snow. Even better, the lodge where HR is located FINALLY opened lift access to the mountain today, and I hurried out mid-afternoon for the premium perk of resort work: the ski break. It was way easier returning to the desk after being wind-blasted and snowed on at 10000 feet.

Because no new sport is fun without some extensive craigslist trolling, I scored a pair of pristine used chick skis with real nice bindings at a killer deal. They are so fast and smooth and I'm learning how to haul ass without too many consequences. Good form, cool tricks, difficult terrain? That'll come eventually, I hope.

So pretty! And not girly at all. They are named the Queen, naturally

On Monday Elen and I (and to some extent Tyler) spent the whole day at the Heave and I finally reached the point where I was experiencing more exhilaration than fear or frustration. It's really tough learning a new sport when I'm so comfortable with the sports I know. It reveals my sometimes intense narcissism: I hate not knowing what to wear, how to talk, what company makes the coolest gear, what immediately gives you away as a total fred (except in winter they're called darrells).

Definite darrells

Fortunately I have several friends willing to aid me in the quest for legitimacy, and ruthlessly heckle me along the way.