This past weekend Trey and I trekked into the mountains of Virginia for a weekend of skiing and hanging out with the Newells. Trey's parents, his sister and her family, and his cousin and her fiance were all there.
We had a HUGE house that had a decent size kitchen, a family room upstairs and a family room with entertainment center and some weird-looking billiards table downstairs. It was a really great weekend; we got to spend a lot of time with our nieces who are the most adorable and sweetest girls in the world. Trey and I had a conversation coming home that sounded something like this:
Trey: This weekend was a lot of fun.
Me: It really, really was. It was really nice to spend time with T and E.
Trey: Do you think they (his sister and brother-in-law) would notice if they were gone.
Me: T definitely...we could probably get away with smuggling E away.
Both of us laughing conspiratorially.
On Saturday I went skiing. And I mean "I went skiing" in the very loosest of terms. First of all, those dang boots were very uncomfortable, I had to go up a size because it felt like my calves were about to explode. Secondly, skiing is WAY harder than it looks. I used to watch the Winter Olympics with such disdain thinking "How is this hard? Children could do this!!" I have a newfound amazement for all the things that winter athletes can perform with boards, boots, skiis and other things strapped to their feet.
I was able to stop whenever I wanted either by snowplowing or falling (the latter I mastered after three times). I wasn't able to do ski school, but Trey has assured me that I will be doing that during the next ski season.
I DO know that I do NOT hate skiing with every fiber in my being. I really do want to get better. I really do want to go down a green hill. Trey and his sister were confident in my ability to go up a ski lift and then down the mountain. I told them I was confident in my ability to throw up on the ski lift due to sheer terror and then to eventually get down the mountain, either by tumbling or sliding on my butt.
I told my eldest niece that I fell and she requested that I show her how I fell, so I did, in the kitchen. She stared at my in amazement and said "You FELL on your BOOTY???!!!"
Oh, and by the way, children CAN ski. Much better than me. And without poles.
Here are some pics from the weekend: