hittin' the slopes

I flew home to Santa Fe on Saturday for the holidays, and today my brother Ryan took me skiing! (I skied, he snow-boarded.) I haven't been skiing in many many years. In the fifth and sixth grades they offered a program at school for students to go skiing and have lessons four times a year, and I did that. I really enjoyed it, but I didn't enjoy the green hand-me-down snow pants I had to wear. They totally clashed with my purple jacket and black and hot pink gloves. Of course those black and hot pink gloves didn't really go with my lime green jacket this time either, but I've gotten a little better at not worrying about such things.

I was nervous about skiing again, but luckily on our first ride up the chairlift I sat next to a ski patrol man, and I asked him to give me a crash course to refresh my memory. He kindly obliged. He said as much as he could and hollered "good luck!" as I headed down the mountain. It was pretty scary. It was especially scary because Ryan tried to make me go down medium slopes first thing, but I refused and yelled at him and headed down the easy slope on my own. By the end of our day, however, I went down a few mediums. And I only fell three times.


Me after I'd finally steadied myself while Ryan got his boots ready.


Takin' a break.


Bonding on the chairlift.