Taking the Plunge
I was about leave for the day when Blue Cowboy and Funny Bone were attempting to one-up each other about their workouts this past weekend. So, of course, I chimed in and said I rode 35 miles on my bike that they deem unimpressive and they start reveling about their wonderfulness to each other again. Imagine each of them with a helium tank inflating their egos with it as their gloriousness continued to fill the room! ISH!
It may not surprise you that these two are in a tie in the run-off poll that started on Friday for most fascinating character. The poll closes on Thursday at 12:13pm. I am beyond riveted!
Before I left, Funny Bone challenged me to write a post that didn’t involve any of my characters. Player, please… like I need a muse like you to spew!
It reminded me of a photo that Funny Bone had sent me when he was on a skiing vacation earlier this year. He was bragging about his skiing prowess but later I looked at the photo and while his thumb was up, I saw snow all over the orifice on which he sits. Leaving me to believe that perhaps my muse had wiped out before the photo was taken.
The thought of him plunging down a hill and having a little tumble makes me a bit giddy. Of course, I wouldn’t want him to get hurt. But, it took me back to an experience I had while downhill skiing in 6th grade.
My 6th grade class went on a day field trip to a skiing hill in Wisconsin. My brother and his friend from his class, got to go as skiing authorities/chaperones to make sure none of us wounded ourselves too dramatically during our time there.
I had only skied one time before and really had no clue what I was doing. I saw a friend of mine have awesome momentum and soar down the hill like an eagle on skis…into a cornucopia of twigs and trees that clearly was not meant for skiing traffic. I just remember it took her a LONG time to get out of there!
I tried not to be jarred by seeing my trapped classmate. It’s all about envisioning perfection and I have always been competitive so for me, it wasn’t technique, it was all speed. If a monkey could have wings on skis, that was I cruising down the hill like the next gold medalist in slalom in the bunny hill event. In fact, this is how my brother and his friend remember my trip down the hill.
My brother said to his friend, while on the ski lift, “Wow, look at the girl fly!”
My brother’s friend responds, “That’s no girl, that’s your sister!”
Then the speeding monkey with wings on skis did a 360 in the air and landed on the orifice on which she sits with the skis underneath resembling a pile of pick-up sticks.
One of my lenses on my glasses popped out into the snow.
Weeping, an older boy came rushing toward me and found my other lens and popped it in my frame so I could see him. What a mensch! He kept me company until my brother raced down the hill to assess my wounded pride.
The bro saw that I was shivering and graciously gave me his dry, warm gloves and he wore my wet, cold mittens. That is such a warm and fuzzy moment that it could melt ice cubes; but it really happened.
I haven’t been downhill skiing since; I’m still thawing out.