Various ramblings.

After changing my mind something like fourteen times yesterday, it's been decided. I'm going to consult Holly the cottage.

We're leaving early this afternoon, probably just after noon. It'll be just me, my dad and my brother. And the dogs. We'll drive up to the cottage, drop off the bags and dogs and any groceries, and then we'll change into appropriate clothes to go skiing.

I have not gone skiiing since 1996. Easily.

Mostly due to the fact that my evil ex-girlfriend convinced me that, upon moving down to VA with her, we would "totally go skiing all the time", and so I brought along all my ski stuff. Which I then left there as I fled the country. (And we never went skiing together. Not once.)

I last spoke with the ex some time last year, and confirmed that no, she no longer has my ski stuff or my bike or a million other things (like a comfy shirt I've missed terribly).

Fortunately, my mom and I tended to wear the same size ski boots, and her skis might be a tiny bit short for me, but they should do just fine. It would be particularly nice if we managed to find some poles that I could use.

It's bizarre for me to think that I haven't been skiing in so many years. It used to be a weekly thing. Every Friday night, we'd pack up our stuff and go up north. Saturday morning, we'd wake up and go to the ski hill for ski lessons. We'd have lunch at the chalet at the ski hill and then ski for another four or five hours. My brother and I loved it, our father enjoyed it a lot, although he's never quite gotten the hang of skiing parallel as opposed to snowplow. My mom, eh, she enjoyed it now and again, but was always a little too intimidated by the experience to truly get into it.

Me, I love it all day long, even though I hurt my leg once, and broke my collarbone badly, both while skiing (and neither were actually my fault. Honest.).

I know I'm going to be in severe amounts of pain tomorrow after such a long hiatus from the sport, but I'm wondering if I'm going to manage to kill myself today or something. You can't actually forget seven years of lessons/ski weekends over eight years, can you? Well, I suppose it's technically possible. I mean, I know I'm not touching any moguls, and I'll probably stick to the easiest runs possible, but I mean... I'm not going to be one of those people who falls/slides halfway down the hill, am I?

Guess we'll find out. :) (And even if I am, there's a certain satisfaction that comes from sliding down the hill, limbs sprawled out, one ski still at the point where you fell, the other attached to your leg, and having lost your poles. Particularly if you're unhurt. Some wipeouts of mine have been SPECTACULAR and fun, to boot!)

I may post from the cottage, as I'm bringing my laptop up so I can review my class notes while I'm there. If not, I'll be back tomorrow. Have a good weekend, people. :)

Correction.

My mother is coming with us. Sigh.

But she's not skiing. She's taking the dogs and going straight to the cottage, whereas my dad, brother and I are going straight to the skihill.

Apparently, dad's going to rent me some PARABOLIC SKIS (and boots and poles).

I've done a little bit of reading on parabolic skis, and I have to say that I'm a little concerned that these are a lot easier to control. Why? Because all my reflexes are now not only old, but wrong.

If I wind up flying through the air and smacking into a tree, because I accidentally jumped OFF a mogul instead of avoiding it, I will not be amused.

Uh.

I just pulled out my ski jacket, which I haven't really worn in ages, and found a Volkswagen logo temporary tattoo sticker/thing in one of the pockets.

... WTF?!

Also, it's too damn hot in my apartment to comfortably be sitting around in long underwear, sweatpants, two pairs of socks, a t-shirt and a turtleneck.

And yet, this is exactly what I'm doing. Except for the comfortably part.

Wow.

Went skiing. After my father unexpectedly outfitted my brother and I with new ski equipment. Like, really, wholly unexpectedly. We stopped into a shop to get my brother some ski pants, and my dad's like, "So, would you guys like some new skis?"

My brother and I looked at each other.

"Yes?"

So he did. I got a pair of new skis, new boots and new poles. My brother got new skis and boots and new pants (since he has old poles at home). Me, I didn't have a pair of poles that weren't bent or, you know, in Virginia with my ex-girlfriend.

They're gorgeous, blue, parabolic. My poles match. My boots are dark grey.

It's. Amazing.

We got to the skihill, still sort of in shock about the purchase, and we went for a quick run.

It was incredible.

And then, I realized very quickly that my left boot was incredibly tight, for some reason, so I went back to the chalet. Turns out that the tops of my two pairs of socks AND the cuff of my long underwear were all coinciding at the same spot on my calf, and this was the precise area where my boot tightened. Ow.

Took off my second pairs of socks, rubbed my left foot so it wasn't, you know, quite as numb, and headed back out. Of course, I met up with my brother who told me my father had headed back to the chalet 'cause he was hungry. So we went back to the chalet and had a late lunch.

It felt amazing to have my feet out of my boots again, meaning that there was actual blood flowing through my feet. It was nice.

And then, back out on to the slopes.

My first trip down the hill without being in pain, on new parabolic skis, was sweet. I felt lighter, faster, in my new skis.

It took me a few runs to regain my confidence, since it had been so long, but I adjusted really quickly. My poor legs, though. My thighs were on fire, my calves were straining... it was painful, but it was really well-earned pain. Good stuff.

On my second to last run, I tore down this easy run that I've been skiing down since I was ten years old, very aware of the snow and ice beneath my skis, not even thinking about technique. It was pure instinct, especially the part where I crouched and gained speed around the curve. It was absolutely freeing. Incredible. I really felt alive, and in control of myself and my skis, and it felt wonderful.

I'm now sitting by a roaring fire in the fireplace, listening to this awful movie (Cold Creek Manor) that my brother thought my parents would enjoy. It's, well, crap. IMHO.

But the Habs are winning 2-1 with under 9 minutes in the third, and I have a pair of new skis because my dad has a heart of gold.

It's been a good day.

!!!

Also, holy crap! Quebec now allows same-sex marriage!

We're the third province in the country to permit it -- Ontario and BC were first -- but the fact remains, my future girlfriend and I can now go down to the courthouse or whatever and get a marriage license. And get legally married.

Wow. I love my country. I love my province. I love them all day long.