The index page on my Notes app is pretty indicative of my interests at the moment.
Category: skiing
“Focus on the seasonality of things.”
“Focus on the seasonality of things” is a line from my #muse, and I’ve decided to take my character’s advice.
I am thankful for:
- how a layer of snow makes the world seem new
- cold, bright days
- the smell of tea tree oil
- espresso con panna with fresh whipped cream
- text messages from friends with new diamond rings
- and, of course, days spent in the mountains
Why Build Soil?
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Because of Robert Frost.
Growing up in suburban Massachusetts, Frost’s poems transported me to the fields and forests of Vermont – the Vermont of my summers by the lake and my winters in the mountains, and the imaginary Vermont where I swore I would someday live.
My first poem was Fire & Ice, memorized from the pages of my eldest brother’s diary. (Otherwise, it wasn’t very interesting. No offense, Drew… and… uh. Sorry for reading your diary.)
Much later, in college, I flipped through The Complete Works, drifting from poem to poem. When I was lonely or anxious, they were a source of comfort.
He writes for me, speaks to me in the silence & beauty of the North – in crumbling stone walls and bending birches.
Buil Soil: A Political Pastoral is not his best work. It’s rather long. It’s rather of boring. I have no intention of ever memorizing it. But it contains some of the most beautiful fragments in literature.
Ticket to Ride
All I wanted for Christmas was to put my nephew on skis… And guess what? I got my wish.
It was windy as heck at Jay Peak with snow falling the whole day, but Dad, Grandpa, and Auntie Liz took to the Magic Carpet. The little dude did awesome – even making it up the Metro Quad.
It’s crazy to think that 24 years ago, my father was teaching me to ski just as he taught my older brothers years. And now, again, he’s helping to teach his grandson. Some day soon, that little bugger will be following us into the trees.
I’m feeling pretty gosh darn sentimental. If you’re a skier/rider, do you remember learning? Or have a particular memory of teaching someone else? I’d love to hear your story.
(Here’s the live action version, by the way.)
Ski Problem? It’s more of a Ski Solution.
My non-skier friends think I have a problem.
Heck, even some of my friends who ski think I have a problem. But I don’t really care, because no matter how I do the math, skiing comes out the solution.
My first (reliably datable) memory is of learning to ski. My parents, loathe to miss out of a ski vacation just because of a toddler, stuck me in French Canadian ski school. It didn’t matter that I didn’t speak a word of French. I figured it out.
I grew up in the flatlands of Massachusetts where skiing isn’t a common family activity, especially if you’re starting your kids as young as we did. My first time on skis, I was 15 months old. The rest is glorious, powdery history.
I think it’s miraculous that I’m able to live in Burlington, just 45 minutes from my current ski-area of choice. And I think it’s miraculous, too, that I have family and friends with whom to share my runs.
I’m so happy to have been born a skier.
There’s no W in Skiing
While my girliness has grown exponentially in the past few years, I still hate overtly girly design . Frills and ruffles and pastel anything are simply not my bag.
Which is why I like my new skis – Head Sweet Ones – so much. They’re orange. Not pink. Not baby blue. Orange.
I can pretend they’re not peppered with weird crayon-scribble daisies and irrationally swoopy grasses that look like they came from the default Photoshop brush library. Because they’re orange and they ride wonderfully.
But there’s one problem. This thing.
These are not bird or airplane themed skis. Nothing about the art or the name belies any relationship to wings or the letter W.
The only possible explanation for this Wonderful addition is that the W stands for Woman and the wings stand for WTF WERE YOU THINKING.
It looks ridiculous, but really wouldn’t be very noticeable if it weren’t so freaking shiny. It’s difficult to tell in the photo, but it’s shiny to the point of distracting. It’s a tiny vanity mirror. I could clean my teeth in it if the W wasn’t in the way.
Really, the wonderful wacky winged W isn’t a big deal. I’ll just cut some vinyl or buy a Ski The East sticker big enough to show Mrs Shiny who’s boss. But it’s the principle of the thing that bugs me the most. Random, tacky tack-ons are really common in women’s gear. (You don’t see great big ol’ winged Ms on men’s skis, do you?)
Everyone on the mountain knows I’m a chick – especially the bro I just smoked. I don’t need a shiny medallion to broadcast my femininity. Ugh.
So – if you happen to be a designer… stop putting ditzy kitsch on my gear. It’s a waste of your time and seriously pisses me off.
Sidecountry Living 