I am a complete klutz.
Just ask my husband. This morning, while trying to get lunch ready for work I dumped 1/2 a cup of coffee in the spoon drawer, and then when I sat down to eat my toast (with homemade strawberry-rhubarb jam) I dropped the last bite of that on the floor (yes, I still ate it — no, I didn’t think about what has been on our floor). This week I have cut my lip twice, once when I walked into the bathroom door, and the other when I lifted a bowl off the top shelf only to be smashed in the face by a stainless steel measuring cup. That one still hurts.
It should be no surprise to anyone, then, that I am not athletically inclined in any way. I bring this up, as being from Maine and having lived for over 10 years in Colorado, everyone assumes that I ski. I chuckle a bit when I am asked and reply with something like, “Ski, are you kidding me? Have you seen me WALK? I tripped UP the stairs this morning.”
O.K., O.K., that is a bit of an exaggeration, I tripped up the stairs yesterday morning, regardless, I have only been downhill skiing once about ten years ago, and I barely left the bunny slope.
My father is nothing like me — check him out in a ski race some years back
While I do not ski, I do love the outdoors. My husband is well aware of this, and two years ago surprised me with a pair of cross-country skis.
“You said once that you wanted to try it,” he said, “and I had no idea what to get you.” I was honestly ecstatic. It then proceeded to rain all that winter. Before this winter, I had been on the skis twice.
So, I won’t go into too much detail about my first time out this season to Quarry Road in Waterville. This is an AMAZING place by the way. I walk the trails often, but being a newbie skier, I fell A LOT when I tried the ice-covered trails a few weeks ago (before the last storm).
This past weekend, I decided to put my fear aside and enjoy the sun. I pulled out the skis, rounded up the dog, and I headed out into the front pasture. Below are a few of my photos:
It turns out that I LOVE cross-country skiing on fresh snow. The best part of skiing in our back forty — no big hills and no other people. I think I am becoming a misanthrope in my old age. Hell, I must be one — who even USES the word “misanthrope”? Anyway, as I am writing this, we are getting about another foot of the white stuff. I sense another outdoor adventure coming on.
On another note, Kitt just got glasses. I’ll update you all soon!