let's use the word ski 50x

So I went skiing with ORCA today. I originally volunteered with them last year to get some ski legs since I never learned how to, and after too many consecutive weekends at the Alaskan – the result of which earned me a crazy stalker - I realized I should explore other winter activities that entailed being not inside a bar or downtown. Let’s just say that for someone who isn’t a speed freak, uncontrollably careening down the mountain at what feels like 100 mph until I tumble and the friction of my face skidding in the snow finally stops me, skiing can be almost as terrifying an experience as having that damned psycho threaten to feed my body to his pitbull. Okay, well not quite; I do really enjoy skiing, especially when I don’t yard sale and crash into evergreens in front of the chairlift.

The poor woman I had to “chaperone” had a very, very slow approach to skiing. I was mystified and envious of how leisurely she skied, as if gravity has no effect on the innocent. I, on the other hand, have a cross your fingers and go kind of approach to skiing so we made a comical duo. I would zoom past her in panic, mentally screaming strings of profanities and scanning the landscape for the softest tree, and she’d just steadily wedge and turn her little self down the hill to where I’d crashed. Then she’d wait in calm silence until I got all my gear back on, kind of grunt, and ask, ‘okay?’ ‘Okay,’ I always replied, albeit sheepishly since I was the one who was supposed to be “taking care” of her. I imagine that if I’d actually collided myself comatose, she’d be waiting there still she was so patient and loyal.

My trip to Avon, CO (near Vail) next week will test every single atom of my ski-impaired anatomy. Until then, I think I'm gonna stick to the Alaskan.