I'm a little behind on my posts this month, but I'm giving myself a pass because another Kowalski kid carried the torch while I was out of town this week. My baby brother (he's twenty and 6'6" but I still call him Mikie) shocked the heck out of us all when he announced that he would be blogging his way across the country on a road trip with my Dad: Father and Son Bring Back Father's Father's Belongings from Farther. He retired his blog at the end of his trip, but I'm hoping he keeps writing because it was amazing and he has lots to say, but generally keeps very quiet. I suggest we all go follow his blog now and leave him a message pestering him to keep it up. While we're on the subject of following blogs, why don't you follow mine? I currently only have one devoted follower signed up - thanks Dallen.
Soooo, guess what I did this week? I went skiing. This might not seem very exciting because I live in Colorado, where skiing or snowboarding is kind of required for residency, but before this weekend, I had only been skiing on a mountain twice as an adult. I got my first taste of powder back in Riverview, Michigan, as a child. The state is fairly flat, but people piled up a bunch of trash so that we could ski down it. Don't believe me? I have solid proof from a man named John Stossel and little show called 20/20:
I hope you just watched that (it may require a real PC and not your phone), but I have looked for it for years, and previously could only find it for purchase on Amazon or buried deep in the tape library at ABC. I just re-watched it for the first time since it aired in 1992. I'll admit that at that time, I only knew 20/20 as a boring show that came on after TGIF. I recall feeling pretty excited that they were doing a story about our city, then cringing when they teased ahead with the title. Watching now, with a few years as a TV producer under my belt, I couldn't help but notice the distracting use of Phil Collins music in the middle (it's so bad that I wondered if my iTunes accidentally kicked in halfway through). It also reminded me how wonderful Stossel's mustache was and how long Barbara Walters has been working. Most of all, though, it made me homesick for Mount Trashmore. It was a great place to grow up. My first kiss was at the base of that heap.
Anyhow, back to my most recent skiing endeavor. I usually find other fun mountain-y things to do while everyone hits the slopes because on my first ski trip in Colorado I learned that my gauge for what makes a run black, blue or green was a little skewed. Pregnancy makes for a good excuse to hang back, but I'm taking a break from that for a while, so this time I decided I would have to face my fears. I know it sounds ridiculous, but this is what I usually think about when I'm "enjoying" a day of skiing:
-falling off the chairlift
-falling while exiting the chairlift and being decapitated by the moving chair
-blowing out my knee
-hitting a tree
-hitting another skier (particularly one of the tiny ones)
-getting hit by another skier (particularly one of the tiny ones)
-going under the orange fence
-going over the orange fence
-careening off a cliff
-getting buried in an avalanche (Ryan tells me this does not happen with groomed snow)
-getting lost and left on the mountain overnight (before you laugh, there is an actual trail at Vail called "Lost Boy" named after a boy who got lost)
I could go on, but you get the point.
Back to the trip. Ryan was really, really wanting to go snowboarding this year so I agreed to a family trip in Park City, Utah, but truth be told, I wasn't very excited about it. If I'm being totally honest, I was in a pretty bad mood about the whole thing. I nearly decided not to go because I was worried I would end up trying to keep one of the boys quiet and entertained in a tiny hotel room while the other one napped in the pack 'n play in the bathroom - then alternating children - while everyone else had a blast playing on the mountain.
However, it turned out to be one of the most enjoyable family trips we have ever taken. This required an attitude adjustment on my part, Ryan sacrificing his snowboard for a set of skis and a little of what I believe was probably intervention from above. You see, on our very first trip up the hill on our first morning there, Ryan and I serendipitously got on the chair lift with an instructor who was skiing on his day off. Ryan has been knuckle dragging (aka snowboarding) for the past twenty plus years, but he hadn't been on skis since he was twelve. When we explained our situation to Ben, the instructor, and asked for pointers, he offered to stick with us. He skied with us the whole morning, giving me helpful advice, encouraging me, and leading me to terrain that I could handle. I'm still not very good, but when I got myself to the point where I was only worrying about half of the things on the list above, I started to see how one could easily fall in love with the sport. The fifty degree weather and sunshine might have helped too.
Beyond skiing, which I know I will never love as much as the hot chocolate that accompanies it, we got to spend time with extended family and eat really good food. We also got to sit in a warm pool with the boys and make friends with complete strangers while snowflakes melted on our noses and tongues. Mostly though, we got to make memories.
Also, Benny napped fine in the pack 'n play without me having to put it in the bathroom.
Which leads me to a sort of moral to this long and rambling story: try new things once in a while, even if they scare you. For the first time ever I can actually say I'm looking forward to skiing on our next trip to higher altitude. If I had stayed home I know that would not be the case. And if you don't believe me about trying new stuff, just ask Noah, who fell in love with mussels bathed in curry on the same trip (thank you Aabir - I never thought my three-year-old would be willing to trade a chicken finger for a handful of spicy shellfish).
