If I could drop dead right now, I'd be the happiest man alive. ~ Samuel Goldwyn
Stretch pants - the garment that made skiing a spectator sport.
Living in Utah, there’s a big push for skiers. I believe everyone in our family has tried it, at least once. I know Erika became quite an avid skier for a time. But we all have our stories to tell. I won’t bore you with mine now. Just suffice it to say that it was a premonition of my entire marriage. I will share, though, my mother’s story. She has a friend who lived in this area at the time. She said, “Now, Ginny… you have GOT to try skiing! It’s just the greatest thing to do!” Mom protested… Bernie persisted… finally convincing mom to use Bernie’s hubby’s equipment and take a shot at trying to make it down a hill without tumbling. All prepared for the big day (which means being sure to bring along a thermos full of gin & tonic) they headed up to the slopes. Mom became frustrated time after time because when you fall, it is certainly not easy to get up again! We all know you do a lot of falling on that first day too. At one point, very nearly at the end of her rope… struggling and struggling to set herself aright again… an older gentleman shussssshed up and said, (I’m imagining a grinning man with arms akimbo like superman) “Now if you want to get up, you have to put your arms here and there and put your legs here and there and push this and that and move this way and that way and… voila! You’ll be up!” Mom looked squarely up at him and said, “Fuck off!” Which he did. Bernie nearly fell off her skis laughing. Mom somehow stood up and began to ski down the hill, and finding that she had no way to stop when she reached the bottom, she simply found a bus to run into. She took off her gear, grabbed her thermos, went to the lodge, put her feet up and proceeded to finish the day off emptying that thermos.