A Ski Spree

By Tonia

“Skiing: the art of catching cold and going broke while rapidly heading nowhere at great personal risk.”

I need to endanger myself now and then - so I go snow skiing. At my age I’d just as soon break a hip on the slopes as break it on my kitchen floor. And, if I’m in a sexual dry spell (more like a parched/dehydrated/almost dead spell), I can get my dopamine rush speeding precariously down a mountain on two skinny boards with people waving pointy poles all around me. So I suckered a girlfriend into driving to Pagosa Springs, Co. to ski Wolf Creek with me.

 

I also took Remington (aka Dog) so, before being cooped up in the car, I took him to the dog park to play. As we were traveling happily down HWY 44 I started to smell something gross. Nothing says road trip like the aroma of dog shit on your shoe for 600 miles! And after only 10-12 pee stops (remember: two women on this road trip!) we finally made it.

Now I love to ski but it’s not pretty. Sometimes I just pray not to get hurt getting fitted at the ski rentals. This year I successfully got through the fitting but, when I was standing perfectly still on the slopes, one of my legs went AWOL and my other body parts protested by throwing themselves in every direction. If you’ve skied before, you know there are levels: GREEN is easy; BLUE is intermediate and BLACK is difficult. I skied mostly greens but I still ended up black and blue….

On our last day there was a blizzard. Yes, an honest-to-god, hand-numbing, bone-chilling, nose-freezing, face-biting blizzard. I’d like to say that the cold never bothered me anyway but IT DOES, Goddamnit! Snowmen gained weight, lifts blew sideways and, worst of all, hot ski instructors grew into misshapen, grotesque Yetis. No ski instructor fantasies that night with the toys!

But we returned with no broken bones – and an intact friendship. In fact, we’re planning our next adventure!

So, for your next girlfriends’ get-together, get out of town and start a blizzard of memories with lots of shenanigans!