Ski vs. Snowboard

After work one morning, I knew that Bryan had nothing else going on that day and I could miss work. It was nearing the end of ski season and I couldn't miss the opportunity. With very little coaxing Bryan and I were headed up to the slopes. He snowboards and I ski. I thought the techniques would be the only difference. As we rode up the ski lift, I became increasingly nervous. I hadn't been skiing for about 5 years. One thing I always remember when I ski: I hate falling down. It's difficult to get up because I end up sliding down the hill while only partly stable and inevitably fall again. It is a viscous cycle which ends in lots of crying and cursing gravity. We got off the ski lift and I slowly made it down to the beginning of the run. Bryan strapped on his board and I though, as I always do, how terrifying it would be to have both feet strapped to one board of doom. But that's coming from someone who learned to ski when she was 5. (I've never skiied with any consistency after that age, so my skill is only sub-par) Bryan started down the mountain, fell, got up and waited for me.

 I stood petrified, skied 10 feet, froze, skied 10 more feet, froze, repeat. Bryan called up to me asking if I was alright and I said I was fine, I just needed to get used to this again. I told him to go on ahead because having him watch me was even more nerve-racking. Gravity was pulling me too fast and I didn't want Bryan to see the bloody aftermath of that battle. He continued down the mountain as I got my ski legs back.

After the fist couple runs, I finally felt confident again. I could finally ski next to Bryan. He realized before I did that our attitudes toward these winter sports were totally different. He loved going fast. Gravity did most of the work and if you started going too fast, you turn or fall down. Either way, you're having fun!

As he watched me ski, he realized this was not the case for me. I needed control. It was a constant battle with gravity. If I got stuck because something was too steep and narrow, Bryan would suggest several ways for me to get down the run and I would stare at him incredulously. At one point, I had to watch an 8 year old go down a run before I knew I could do it. My husband is right. If I'm not battling gravity, I'm convincing myself that I will not fall over. At the end of the day, my confidence was back and I knew I could make it down the mountain unscathed and had a lot of fun. Unfortunately, I forgot that gravity was not my only enemy... I returned home with a sunburn.

How my wife trasformes from a beautiful intelligent woman to ...

My wife and I got married on March 17th. We spent a couple nights in Las Vegas for a mini honeymoon before heading back to school. We made a stop at Lynn's parents' house to pick up presents her wonderful neighbors had given her at her bridal shower. We had been on the road for about an hour when I heard a buzzing. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew my new bride is terrified of a certain striped flying insect. The buzzing stopped. I hoped it wouldn't continue, but against my wishes the buzzing started up again. I looked in the rear view mirror and to my horror it wasn't a fly, but a bee. I willed my wife to stay asleep despite the buzzing. All I needed was a few minutes to get to the next gas station and then I could let the poor bug out of it's misery without my wife's knowledge. Suddenly from the seat next to me I hear in a small terrified voice "Is that a bee?!" She immediately got as far away from the bee as the seat would allow and curled up in the fetal position. I knew she was afraid of bees, but this was something else. My independent, strong woman working on her masters degree suddenly needed a caveman with a large club to kill the bee of impending doom. We were nowhere near an exit with a gas station and Lynn pointed at a seemingly random, conveniently placed (the very next) exit. We drive about five minutes away from the freeway before finding somewhere she could take refuge while I disposed of the intruder. As we pulled into the parking lot, Lynn leapt from the car into the snow and fled to the comfort of the tiny local grocery story and left me to the dirty work. I unfortunately am not a caveman with a club. I am an English major and the only weapon at my disposal was dustpan one of the women had given my wife. With the task complete, I went to find my wife. We began our trip again, but Lynn could only look on those gifts with distrust. They were the harbingers of stinging intruders.