My "skiing career" began in 8th grade at a landfill posing as a mountain in Pennsylvania. It lasted for just one day, and then I took an approximately 15 year hiatus.But this past week I went from landhill skiing to safely making it down the blue slopes of the Wasatch Mountains in Utah.
All manner of people taught me how to ski this week, (although unfortunately no Austrians), including my patient mother-in-law who taught me everything I need to know about speed control, a retired construction manager turned ski instructor, and an instructor with only one arm!
I'm still immersed in post-vacation chores, which include filling out my NCAA brackets ... time to end this post!
