Visit our STORE.
Saturday I went skiing with Maria. Even though spring threatens, Bristol Mountain still has snow for the downhill crowd. Her 12-year-old son Matthew brought his snowboard, his skis, and an agreeable companion.
My skiing with Jim was always about pressing my limits. But Maria is a confirmed snowplow artist with no ambitions for steep terrain or mogul fields. That was just fine with me.
The boys are old enough to go off on their own to perform their boy feats on challenging slopes. But Maria and I headed for the long easy trail. Like I said, spring is threatening, so the sky was overcast and the air was warm. Our slow zigzagging was the perfect tonic for lives packed with busyness. It felt like yoga on skis: Deep breaths; toes uncurled; core muscles engaged. Float.
Of course, it wasn't all meditation. We glided along slowly enough to keep up a line of chatter and to catch up on all the gossip.
At one point we followed the boys up to the "terrain park" where jumps and pipes are set up for the athletic snowboard set. I couldn't resist the jumps. Most were about a foot high, but one was about 5-foot. If you're a champ you can use the jump to do a little acrobatics. Not me. I was just happy not to kill myself. Launching myself, even a few inches into the air, was good for a Homer Simpson scream followed by an ungainly "dismount." Triumph enough.
After about 3 hours Maria and I retired to the bar for vodka-tonics and popcorn.
A perfect break from painting and ebay.
Thumbs Up if you liked this entry