After my hiatus from posting the minutia of my life I am back and ready to numb your minds like old times!
So, my husband began trying to get me to ski about sixteen minutes into our first date. And twelve years later I am here to tell you it never took. Ski shares, private lessons, custom boot inserts. Nothing ever persuaded me. I still dread everything about it. And while I've accepted that it will be an annual family event, I have ramped down my participation to where I just get everyone ready and drop them at the mountain. The kids have ski school and he can ski with a buddy (there is always a buddy when you are a skier). That's where we are now.
Well, we are leaving for our family ski trip on Sunday and found out that the buddy has just shattered his knee. And I'm sure he was doing something dangerous and ski guyish so I'm just glad that he is alive but back to the issue: what does that mean for me? Do I have to nut up and be the buddy? I wasn't even planning on packing my ski pants. I'm already stress sweating.