Heart-Shaped Pizzas

Good Tuesday morning!

Cold and wet would best describe yesterday morning. I would love for there to be 2" to 3" of snow (with electricity still intact), but it ain't going to happen, folks. However, I promised a skiing story, so here it is...

Part 1 - Skiing Adventure

Sven, Oh Sven. Where For Art Thou, Oh Sven?

I had always romanticized snow skiing. The cute snow suits, toboggans, matching gloves, sipping hot chocolate by the fire, guys named "Sven" swooshing down the slopes... and then one year in my mid-20s I actually went snow skiing. I went with my church (Shades Mountain) and the Singles Department, and I was so excited. It was a dream come true. I was going to be a "snow bunny."

We went to Snowshoe, West Virginia. Just the name sent shivers of anticipation down my spine. I would soon be swooshing alongside my imaginary friend, Sven, down the beautiful, white slopes of this fantastic ski resort. (For the record, Mikie was still my best friend, but he wasn't on this trip, so any and all references to "Sven" are totally legal at this point in our relationship -- especially since he was back home still dating anything and everything in a skirt.)

The first day was absolutely beautiful. Sunny and cold and tons of fresh powder (professional ski talk) on the ground. Everyone told me I HAD to take a class the first day. The class would last about two or three hours and when the instructor thought I was ready, he would send me down my first slope. That was fine with me. I was not too proud to think I would just "pick it up." However, I was proud enough to think I would "pick it up" a little more quickly than I did. "I can't wait to meet our ski instructor," I said to my ski class friend as we trudged through the snow holding our skis on our shoulders. "I bet he's incredibly handsome, and his name will be Sven."

Reality Check Number One - He was 60 if he was a day, and to add insult to injury, his name was Earl. (I am not kidding. And yes, I do remember his name 25 years after the fact.)

Earl was good, and the lesson went well. He said I was ready to go down the Bunny Slope. I went down several times, and then he said I was ready for a "Green Slope." "Okay. How do I get to a Green Slope?" I asked, eager to get started. He pointed toward an area to our right, and my friend and I trudged over to the hill. Hmmm. That was a pretty big hill. Hmmm. Well, okay. I had graduated the Bunny Slope. The Green Slope was next. It was time.

My friend put her poles into the snow and pushed forward and slowly started down the Green Slope. I watched her. She did very well. Good control. Good form. Slow, but sure. I could do that. I put my poles into the snow and pushed forward. Wow. I was going really fast... and then I saw the sign. Obviously, the Green Slope was right beside the Black Slope (or as I liked to call them, Death Slopes), and unless I turned to the left soon, I was going to be on the Death Slope within seconds. Think, think, think... how did Earl say to turn? Nope. I had not retained that information. Think, think, think... how did Earl say to stop? Nope. That wasn't in the old mind bank either. The "Black Slope" sign was coming up way too fast, and I had to do something... something very, very quickly. I closed my eyes and spread my legs apart so I wouldn't miss it... and centered the sign.

Reality Check Number Two - The professionals do not like for you to "stop" yourself using the sign markers they put on the slopes identifying said slopes. It can do damage to the sign causing confusion for other skiers... and it really, really hurts.

I slid to the ground and then crawled on my hands and knees to what I knew was the middle of the top of the Green Slope. I then stayed on my hands and knees until a ski patrol man came beside me and helped me to my feet. "Is your name Sven?" I asked breathlessly.

"No, it's Jerry. You be careful now," and off he swooshed.

Okay. Okay. I could do this. Once again, far away from the Black Slope, I put my poles into the ground and pushed forward. Again, I notice I was going much faster than my friend before me, but I contributed that to the fact that not only had I forgotten how to turn and stop, but also how to ski from one side of the slope to the other which helps control your speed. I was going in a straight line down the hill... and picking up tremendous speed as I went. "I'm just going to sit down and stop and start over," I thought to myself. Again forgetting if you squat or bend forward, you go faster. So now, I'm practically sitting on my skis and flying by people going faster and faster and faster. Just as I thought all was lost, I saw I was approaching a snowbank at "warp speed" (Star Trek talk) and without a sound, I was gone. Poof! No more Belinda... eaten by a snowbank.

I just stayed in the snowbank for what seemed like an eternity, not really caring no one could see me or hear me. I was invisible. I was just going to rest a few more minutes before I tried to extricate (good word) myself from the snowbank. About that time, I felt a tug on the ball of my cute toboggan. "Are you okay?" a male voice asked.

"Yes... I'm just resting," I mumbled. Then big, strong arms reached in and drug me out onto the slope again and stood me on my feet... feet that were still unfortunately strapped into snow skis. My second run-in with a ski patrol man in less than 15 minutes.

"Is your name Sven?" I asked, still hopeful.

"Nope. Pete. Is everything okay?" he asked looking for limb damage.

"I'm fine. Thanks for your help," I responded weakly, and with a nod he started down the slope.

I looked up the hill to get my bearings... and then I looked down. Just what I had suspected. I still had about 3/4 of the Green Slope left... and still had no idea how to go down safely. I looked around at the other skiers and found my answer! By standing sideways and using my poles for balance, I could just walk down the slope. Of course, it would take several hours, but I eventually would get to my final destination. So I started "sideways walking" down the slope. Later, back in my room, I would wonder to myself why I had not "sideways walked" UP the slope since it was closer. Closer not only to getting off the slope, but also to my hotel room. All I can conclude years later is that my brain was actually frozen solid and was unable to function at that point.

Reality Check Number Three - Skiing is not fun. It is very hard work and anyone who says differently is a LIAR!

On my "sideways walk" down the slope I actual fell over twice. Because of the strenuous exertion placed on my body by the "sideways walk," I would just lie there until... you guessed it... a ski patrol man came by and grabbed me under my arms and set me up. Before you even ask... No, they were not named Sven.

Finally, I made it to the bottom of the the Green Slope. A sense of accomplishment washed over me. I had done it! If there was an Olympic Gold Medal for "Sideways Walking" down a snowy Green Slope, it would have been hung around my neck then and there. I looked around. Now what? No buildings. No hot chocolate kiosks. No bus to take me back to our hotel. Just a long, long line of people, and what looked to be little bitty chairs in the air. I "sideways walked" over to the line and asked everyone, "So what are you waiting for?"

"We're getting on the ski lift to go back up the mountain."

"Oh. The ski lift, huh? I see. Will that take me to the hotel lobby?"

"No. But when you get to the first drop off you'll see your hotel and you can ski over there if that's where you want to go." I refrained from laughing in his face. Ski to my hotel! That was a good one. I saw more "sideways walking" in my near future.

Okay, then. I had a plan. First drop off. Hotel. Bed. "Is there any kind of trick to this ski lift thing?" I asked the people.

"No. Just sit down on the chair when it comes to you, and get off at the first drop. Make sure you get off at the first drop though. If you keep going to the second drop, you'll be going down another slope," a kind person answered. And then looking at me he added, "And it won't be a Green Slope either."

Ahh. A warning. I have to get off the first drop or I will surely die. I understood... and I tried (I really did) to make a mental note of what he was saying. But as I said earlier, my brain was a big ol' piece of solid frozen ice.

This story is a little longer than I remembered, so I'm going to have to make it a Three Parter. Tune in tomorrow for "If Skiing Doesn't Kill You, The Chair Lift Will" and Wednesday for "Skiing in a Blizzard Isn't for Sissies... and I Should Know Because I am a Sissy!"

Here are the last of the conversation starters for your jar. There's no excuse now. You have a full jar... get talking!

Tell about a favorite memory of a grandparent?
Tell about a prize or an award you won.
If you were to live in another country for a year, what would you miss most?
What foods do you most dislike?
Tell about a time when you were homesick?

Heart-Shaped Pizzas

As I said yesterday, this is not a recipe from me. Actually, it's from a box. Any kind of "make it yourself" pizza box will do. Follow the instructions exactly as they appear on the box. The only thing that makes this special is you will give everyone in your family (husband included) a cookie sheet or a throw-away aluminum cookie sheet. As soon as the dough is ready, put a medium amount on each cookie sheet and tell everyone to make a heart with the dough. When the heart is ready, again follow the instructions on the box and add the sauce, cheese and any other toppings you and your family enjoy. These are personalized Valentine's Day pizzas, but you can have them any time during the month of February.

Also, buy a ton of pink or red paper plates, white napkins, and plastic red cups to set your table with every night this month. Buy three or four white and red candles and have candlelight dinners (even if you're just having sandwiches) every chance you get. Play classical music in the background (or Barry Manilow!) and just make every night special. And remember, candlelight makes everything taste better... and if you're like me, it can take five or ten years off the face. I like candlelight!

Tomorrow I have the easiest Valentine's Day Seasonal Tradition for your little one. They will love it, and so will you.

Have a great Tuesday, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.