Apparently, I have energy to burn. I am dying to go skiing. YEARNING.
I love skiing. Love it with a passion. I'm not that good at it, but that doesn't really matter to me. I can do the intermediate slopes if I go really slowly, and I adore a long, slow green.
But I haven't been in nine or ten years. Every year I talk about going, and sometimes I get as far as starting to organize a trip. Someone always wants to go but then the timing doesn't work, or something comes up. Every year I am disappointed that the snow has melted without me crash-landing in it.
This year. I'm going skiing.
Like, today. I think I'll go today. By myself.
Dude, it would be easier for me to go overseas to a country I've never been before than to go to Tahoe by myself. I don't know why it's making me nervous to think about, but it is. I know guys do it, go skiing and snowboarding by themselves, just because they feel like it. Do girls? Do you?
I'm going to drive up this afternoon. I don't even have a hotel reservation, which is very unlike me. I called a couple of places — everyone has rooms available. I figure I'll just get there and look around, ask for a good price at the front counter. I used to work at a hotel and it was always easier to give a great rate to someone smiling at me at the front counter than someone on the phone.
Then tomorrow I'll get up, rent skis, and hit the slope. I think I'll do Squaw Valley. Then back home in time for dinner with the pocket vegans.
I'm telling you this so that I don't chicken out. It's not the drive, or the skiing, or the lodging, or the eating by myself that has me worried.
It's the lift line. Standing in line by myself. That's going to be weird, right? Or not? I don't know.
I feel like a challenge, though, and I feel like snow. It's supposed to be sunny and 41 degrees tomorrow. I'm so there. I'll keep you posted. (Twitter feed, above to the right, will be chock-full of little tweets, so keep your eye out….)
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