Well, hello there! Thanks for stopping on by. Would you like some tea? I always feel like I should start my posts with something friendly and welcoming. Did that make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside? I hope so!
This is going to be a long entry so I have written 2 versions:
The Short Version:
- I get reflective around my birthday-time
- Back story on how Joe & I started dating-he asked, I said yes, the rest is history
- I went skiing last month and it was freakin' awesome
The Long Version:
So today is my 25th b-day. Hooray! I feel like 25 is an in-between age. I'm no longer in my early 20's nor am I approaching 30. However, I can now rent a car without paying the underage fees which is awesome! In my mind, I'm still a geeky 16 year old with weird hair and a penchant for knitting and reading books. I don't feel old enough to be engaged, or old enough where the potential to have kids is real or really feel old enough to say I graduated from college almost 3 years ago. Where does the time go?
I seem to become more introspective on my birthday. Have you ever held up a mirror in front of a mirror? And when you look back in the mirror, there are about 1,000 mirrors coming back at you? That's how I feel about birthdays. I can remember my past birthdays or surmise what may happen on my future ones. I was thinking back to all my birthdays and I remember what I was doing for each of them. The earliest I can remember is my 5th birthday in which I had a Lion King themed party; that's top 5 birthday material right there. I don't have this clear of a recollection on any other days. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast on Sunday let alone recall what I did a year prior. But for some reason, birthdays are easy to remember. Maybe it's because of the good memories surrounding them or all the delicious cakes. Who knows?
But today is not just my birthday; it's the 4 year anniversary of mine and Joe's first date. A lot of people are amused by this when I tell them my anniversary and my birthday are on the same day. They say, "Oh what a smart guy! He'll never forget your anniversary now!" In truth, it wasn't planned that way:
It all started a few days before my birthday. Joe and I had seen each other around and had short conversations but nothing leading up to a dinner invitation. My birthday was on a Thursday that year and on Tuesday Joe sent me a message asking how I was going to celebrate my 21st birthday. Being the wild and crazy girl that I am I told him that I was not sure but that I was definitely going to be with friends. He told me that him and his buddies were thinking of going out that night and did my friends want to join forces with his and celebrate together? I said sure, why not.
The next day, Joe called me and said his buddies had bailed on him but that he was still willing to hang out with me and my friends. I thought this was sweet and told him I'd keep him posted. Thursday was pretty uneventful: classes, then work then home to figure out what to do. One of my friends was trying out for MSU Idol so I went to the Union with a few friends to support him. It was getting to be past 6 pm when I decided to head back home and Idol was winding down. The friends I had come with had other plans. I'm not sure if it was by coincidence or fate that my friends were busy but it was not a big deal to me.
I called up Joe and told him the situation. He said he didn't mind if it was just us and if I was okay with that. I figured I had nothing to lose; after all he was a nice guy and seemed pretty laid back. Coincidentally we lived one building apart from each other in the same apartment complex. He still insisted on picking me up even though I could have just walked over. He took me to the Veranda and we had a nice dinner and our conversation flowed effortlessly. I ordered some wine with dinner because I legally could! (Woot!).
After dinner I offered up some cake that my parents had sent me from the MSU bakery. Who could resist the lure of cake? I guess the date had gone well because he called me a few days later and thus our 2nd date was born. And the rest, as they say, is history. I like to think that the cake had something to do with it! I mean, have you ever had cake from the MSU bakery?
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| Mmm...cake! |
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| I had a fork hiding in my pocket. That cake didn't stand a chance! |
That's it for the mushy stuff. Now on to the comical:
So I went skiing for the first time in my life last month! I actually never thought I'd have the chance to do it but it was something I always wanted to try. Growing up on the MS Gulf Coast we hardly ever saw snow. I distinctly remember two times when it snowed: the first was in 3rd grade. It had started to flurry in the afternoon and of course, everyone freaked out. We freaked out in the good way so our teacher let us outside to play in it. The school officials also freaked out so we got to go home early. By the time we arrived home it had all melted. So much for a shortened school day! The other time snow actually fell was a few days after Christmas when I was in 10th grade. Again, we barely got a light dusting but we were able to make a cool snowman before he dried up. It was the closest thing to a white Christmas I had ever had.
That being said, I love the snow. Well, sometimes. My relationship with snow is love-hate. Love it when I'm visiting my Dad in Colorado and we can play in it then hop on a plane back to 70 degree weather. But I kinda hate it when I have to bike/walk/trudge through it, like when I lived in Buffalo. It's a different beast when you have to walk to the bus stop in 1 foot of snow or try to ride your bike home from school in a sudden snow storm in April!
Anyway, we were going up to the mountains with our friends Aaron and Christy. They came by to pick us up that morning so we could get there at a reasonable time. The drive was quick and as soon as we saw the first semblance of snow on the side of the road, we all became giddy. As we drove higher and higher up in the mountains the snow became thicker and dirtier. We got to the resort around lunchtime and Christy and I signed up for adult ski lessons. We were worried that we'd be the only ones there; we were actually in a group of about 8 people.
To be quite honest I was nervous. I always heard about skiing accidents or how people broke their leg skiing down a hill. I am also not the most graceful person in the world so I knew I would have some bruises and scrapes by the time we left.
I started out the lesson with high hopes. Our instructor was sarcastic and abrasive. I half feared him and was half entertained by him. We learned how to put on our skis, side step up the mountain and more importantly, how to stop! There were no cutesy terms for the skiing positions because, dag nabbit, we were adults! But I would have preferred the pizza and french fries approach just because I like food and it's easier to visualize. We took turns going down the bunny hill to practice our cool new moves. My first time down the gently sloping hill was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
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| Fun fact: this mountain lives on pizza and french fries. |
After the lesson, Christy and I practiced on the beginner slopes for awhile. We felt awesome going down that hill! 2 Southern girls taking to the snow like a pig to mud (er...something to that effect). My confidence was high until I noticed small children whizzing past me in puffy, multicolored blurs. They seemed so fearless and agile. Here I was, a 24-year old Southern chick with puffy ski pants and a doofy helmet trying to keep my balance and not run into the trees that lined the hill. I was understandably jealous.
The most difficult part of skiing, for me, was trying to stand up and get off the freaking ski lift. My first attempt off the ski lift caused me to meet up with the ground. It was a pleasure, of course. The second time I was determined not to fall. Just as I stood up to get off the lift the chair hit the back of my legs and I lost my balance. The lift operator had to come help me up. Behind me small children were whizzing off the lift like they had done it their whole life. They probably had! I was again jealous of their poise. The third time was a charm because I gracefully glided off the lift and put my skis in the pizza position to slow myself. As I was patting myself on the back I hear my instructor yell: "Amanda! Don't pizza off the ski lift!" So much for my celebratory party in my head. I finally managed to get off the ski lift without kissing the snow after what seemed like dozens of attempts.
Oddly enough, we came back for intense skiing the next day. Christy and I continued our ski study by learning how to turn at the adult ski school.
Once our lesson was over, we all decided to meet up with Aaron and Joe on the next run that was suitable for beginners. While it was considerably longer and steeper, the instructor assured us that we would be fine. I nervously got on the ski lift with Joe and I enjoyed the lift up. You could see the lake and mountains against the blue sky. It was an amazing view but the closer we got to the end of the ski lift, the more nervous I became.
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| Right before I wobbled all the way down the hill! |
I looked downhill and took a deep breath. This was going to be fine, I told myself. And it was...at first. We all managed to stay together as we made our way down the mountain. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Christy veer off to the side and fall. We went over to see if she was okay.
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| This doesn't look too terrifying... |
While she was resting I began to feel my skis sliding down the hill. No! I thought, this was not supposed to happen. I am trying to side step over to my friend! Do you hear me, Mr. Mountain of Icy Doom? I was still moving and I couldn't stop! So I yelled out to them, "I can't stop!" as I slowly picked up speed. I heard Joe behind me say, "Pizza! Do the pizza!" I was pizza-ing my heart out but I just couldn't slow down my momentum. I was afraid to pizza too much for fear I'd cross my skis and fall.
As I sped faster and faster down the hill my adrenaline started to pump. I spread out my heels further but I felt myself starting to lean back (which is a big no-no in skiing unless you want your bum to break your fall and get snow in your ski pants) so I leaned forward to balance myself. I was whizzing by skiers and trees until it all started to become a blur. I wobbled to and fro for a bit while chanting: don't fall, don't fall, holy crap, don't fall, don't fall you idiot! in my mind.
After what seemed like an hour I finally reached the bottom of the hill and the flat surface (and friction!) slowed me down enough where I could stop. To my utter amazement, I hadn't fallen once, despite my impersonation of a Weeble! A few seconds later, Joe comes to an expert stop beside me and I hold out my hands to show him that I was shaking. My legs were shaking too! I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I did it! I thought, I conquered this huge hill and I'm still alive! I promptly sat down in the snow, not caring about the cold, took off my skis and thought, I could go for some pizza.
I am a big baby, by the way. I don't like roller coasters very much and am not a thrill seeker. But hot dang skiing was fun! And that was the last time I went on that ski run. Once was enough for me.
So there you have it. I hope you learned something new or got a good laugh out of my attempts at skiing. Or maybe you have a sudden craving for cake. You're welcome.
