
On Saturday the boys got up a the crack of dawn to go skiing. I was under the, mistaken, impression that teenagers like to sleep in. Not these guys. They wanted to be on the slopes! So Mark got them fed and watered and out to the hill. Mark and I realized a while ago that we are not full day skiiers anymore. Not that we couldn't, we just don't want to. Half a day is just right for us, so we made arrangements to meet them for lunch and ski together for the afternoon.
I had forgotten how much of a hassle skiing is. It makes snowshoeing look even better then before. So we left the house at 11am to go get Mark's rental, loaded everything into the car, which I told Mark was too small for all our equipment plus the boys, but which he insisted wasn't. We then drove to the hill, where we got to park a million miles away from the entrace because they were so busy. Then we got to carry our ridiculously heavy and ungainly equipment to the bus, then to the gondola and finally up the hill. So.much.fun.
The skiing with the boys was fun, but I have to say that by about 3pm my right leg was seriously not talking to me anymore. It was experiencing the kind of muscle stress where it feels like if you put anymore pressure on it, it will just collapse under you. Like a shaky piece of rubber. There you are all looking cool, slucing down the slopes, the next minute dead. Crumpled up, with legs and arms sticking in directions they shouldn't.
After the ski we went to the hot springs, where my right leg started to quiver. Thank goodness a good soak fixed that up. After supper and a couple of glasesses of wine I was asleep like a baby. Good day.
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