Last week was mid-winter break for H’s school. So I promptly got sick with the flu and had the fun misery of being sick, the misery of having a two-year-old yell at me for being sick and unable to cater to his every whim, and the guilt of ruining H’s school vacation by being lame.
Then yesterday we went skiing. I’ve gone once before, around 15 years ago. It was a total disaster, and something I never wanted to do again. But I don’t want my kids to miss the opportunity to learn to ski before adulthood and risk the same experience as me, so off we went to Big Tupper.
Big Tupper is a great resort. It’s small. It got shut down years ago and the people of Tupper got together and re-opened it last year. They run it — all on volunteer labor. I believe they are hoping that a business takes it on now that it’s re-opened, but I’m not sure. For now, it’s a lovely family ski place, and it’s insanely cheap. Cheap enough that we could afford lift passes, equipment rentals, and 1.5 hours of private lessons for each of us and could swing it again any good weekends that are left in the season.
When I got to the top of the mountain, though, I still panicked and fell down every time I possibly found the opportunity. I’m going to go back, though. I’m going to learn to ski without panicking. And I better do it soon, because then I need to take H down the big hill. He’s in love with skiing. I am shocked, I tell you, but pleased.
But first, the ice show is this weekend. I’ve made all 19-bazillion little Sgt. Pepper Lonely Hearts Club Band-inspired jackets and all that remains is for the 19-bazillion children in my group to go out and skate without falling down. Too much. Video pending.
Unrelated pictures from November, mainly from our Thanksgiving trip to Philadelphia and environs: