Why o why don't I go skiing more often? It's fantastic! Granted, getting such a gorgeous day like today was, with excellent snow, temperatures in the forties and sun! sun! sun!, makes it all the sweeter. But still. Even when the weather isn't as perfect, it's still fun.
Friends of ours basically dragged us out of bed this morning, pointing out that we couldn't let this day escape. We haven't skied in almost a month, and were just fine with spending the day lounging around doing nothing. But when I stepped of the elevator at the top of the mountain, I had to admit that spending this day doing anything else wounld have been committing a sin. A cardinal sin.
My wife wasn't planning on skiing at all. She thought she wouldn't feel safe and the pregnancy has changed her point of gravity. But at the last moment we took her skis with us. And just as well. She tried going on the bunny slopes, but eventually decided the 'real' slopes. And she had a blast! At the end of the day she even took the lift to the top with the rest of us.
She skis so gracefully. Why can't I glide down the slopes like that? It's not fair.
Saturday, March 8, 2003
Wednesday, March 5, 2003
Monday, March 3, 2003
After a few days of temperatures in the thirties, it's back to sub-zero. And wind. Which is quite uncommon here. But - and i do hesitate to say this - I like it more like this.
These last few days may have been warmer, but instead we've had the slush. The infernal watery almost-snow material. Plus the much higher humidity, making for a more biting cold. A friend of mine wrote to me yesterday from Denmark, complaining about exactly that damp, gnawing cold. And it's still in the thirties over there.
That's when it hit me. I like it cold. That is, I like it cold or hot. Not bland. All or nothing.
But then again, that really shouldn't have come as any surprise to me.
These last few days may have been warmer, but instead we've had the slush. The infernal watery almost-snow material. Plus the much higher humidity, making for a more biting cold. A friend of mine wrote to me yesterday from Denmark, complaining about exactly that damp, gnawing cold. And it's still in the thirties over there.
That's when it hit me. I like it cold. That is, I like it cold or hot. Not bland. All or nothing.
But then again, that really shouldn't have come as any surprise to me.
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