Room Service

Good Wednesday morning!

It is a beautiful, cold day here in Alabama. They say we may actually see a snow flurry this afternoon or evening. We're not holding our breath, but in true Alabamian form, I will go to Wal-Mart and purchase two loaves of bread and a gallon of milk. This is what we do when the word "snow" is mentioned in the forecast. We buy milk and bread... even if we do not need milk or bread... even if we do not like milk or bread. We've been trained to do this since we were toddlers, and in turn, we've trained our children to carry on this tradition as well. There may be a list a mile long of things Austin still needs to know before he goes to college, but I am proud to say (as an Alabama Mom), he knows to buy milk and bread when James Spann says "snow."

I've added three more Blast From the Past pictures to the Gallery, along with my February flag. I love my February flag. I can see it as soon as I turn on my street, and it makes me happy. Not as happy as my inflatable at Christmas, but happy just the same. (Oh, and by the way. You'll never guess what I saw yesterday! Three, count 'em THREE, Valentine's Day inflatables in someone's yard. I just stopped my car in front of their house and took it in for a moment or two. It's out of my way, but I'm going by there today, also. I feel we Inflatable Lovers have to stick together... plus, I'm trying to see if there's a pattern as to when they are gone and when they are home, and I may be able to snatch one!)

Part 2 - Skiing Adventure

If Skiing Doesn't Kill You, the Chair Lift Will

When we last left off, I was contemplating the chair lift. After getting specific instructions from the people in the line, I took my place at the end. A group of three came up behind me and asked if I was riding alone, to which I responded, "Yes." They then asked if one of them could ride with me on my double chair. I really wanted to ride alone for several reasons. (1) I was wet, tired and not really in the mood for small talk (plus, with a frozen brick of a brain, I knew I wasn't really saying a lot of things that made any sense at the moment); (2) I didn't want the chair lift to break down for any reason with me and a stranger stuck in the air for several hours. I would rather suffer that misery alone; and (3) I was so cold and wet I couldn't tell if my nose was running or if there was snow on my face. There, I said it. I was afraid I looked like an 18 month-old whose mom never wiped her nose. Even with all those reasons, (3) being the biggie, I heard myself say, "Yes," and pulled my toboggan down even further over my face. I was missing "the snowbank that ate me" more and more.

As the line started to move, I began concentrating on how people were getting on the chair lift. It looked "doable." In fact, it looked too "doable," if you know what I mean. I was not trusting what I was seeing. After all, I had thought I would be able to swoosh down a Green Slope after Lessons With Earl, but I was wrong. These people made things which were incredibly difficult look incredibly easy. They acted nice and caring and happy, but they were really quite evil.

We were next in line. The two people in front of us got in place, sat down and were swept away by the chair lift. I had become quite adept at "sideways walking" by this time, and that is how I quickly got in place for my chair. The chair was swinging and it hit me in the bend of my knees, which was perfect, and I sat down with little or no drama whatsoever. I still had my poles (which is a plus), both skis secure on my feet (another plus), and the ride began. I foolishly let my guard down and relaxed a little. Big mistake. "Is there someone at the first drop who helps you get off and out of the way of the people behind you?" I asked my companion.

"No. You just push off with your poles and ski to the right since that is the side of the chair you are sitting on. If you ski off to the left, you will hit me."

As you can imagine, the sense of dread was already falling upon me. "Will I have time to get off and 'sideways walk' to the right before the next chair comes behind me?"

He looked at me confused... I'm sure mainly because I had started making up my own "ski language" and he had never heard of "sideways walking." "You know, when you stand sideways and walk rather than ski to get to your destination?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I think an inept ski instructor named Earl released me from class before I had actually grasped all the things you need to know to properly ski," I replied.

"I know Earl. He's a good guy," the man replied.

"Yeah, he's a great guy if you already know how to ski," I thought, but did not say aloud. I knew I might still need this man's help in just a few seconds.

I was unable to really see the dismounting technique as we approached the first drop, but I could see people skiing to the right and skiing to the left as the man had explained.

We were very close to the first drop. I was so wet inside and outside of the suit, I didn't know if it was from the snow, flop sweat or thousands of tears. The man glanced over at me and these were the last words I heard him say, "Do the best you can, and I'll yell at my friends behind me to help you get out of the way if you fall."

That was the closest thing to comfort I was going to get. It was time. And to my horror, we weren't getting off in a puffy pile of snow... it was a solid sheet of ice... on a small hill! It might as well have been Mt. Kilimanjaro! Someone yelled "Now!" and I stood up. I was already sliding on the ice heading for a "tailbone fall" (that's an "ice skating" term in case you didn't know), when the swing knocked me forward and onto my face at the foot of the icy hill.

Now, if you'll remember, I had never gotten up without assistance. And this time was no different. As I lay face down in the snow, I could hear shouting and then I felt multiple little kicks all up and down the side of my body. The two people behind me in the chair had gotten off and with their skis (and poles), they were trying to kick, roll, scoot me out of the way. To their defense, they didn't hurt me, and I don't think they were angry... I really think they thought I was dead, and they were just trying to get me out of the main stream of traffic. I think this because when they had successfully removed me from the direct path of other chair lift people, they just left. They didn't try to help me up, or say good-bye, or anything. Just skied off.

I now felt the familiar "ski patrol man" grip under my arms as I was hoisted to my feet. "Are you okay?" came the age-old question.

"Yes. I'm just dandy!" I said a little testily. He started to ski off, but before he left I asked him the one question that I had been asking all day long, but I worded it a little differently. "Does anyone at this resort go by the name of Sven?"

"Sven? What kind of name is that? No. No Sven here. My name is Joe," and he was gone.

As I "sideways walked" to my hotel in the distance, dreams dashed, my heart almost as heavy as my arms and legs, I asked someone passing by if they had the time. "Almost 12:30," they replied.

"Oh, goody," I thought. "Only two and a half more days to go."

Join me tomorrow for my second day on the slopes!

Room Service

On a regular, everyday sort of evening in February, surprise your children just before bedtime with trays of milk and cookies. Sit and talk about their day, their dreams, their goals. Before the lights go out, have them reach under their pillow for a small token of affection you have previously hidden.

(Say a prayer, blessing that particular child and thanking God for letting them be a member of your family. Isn't that going to be a wonderful way to go to sleep that night... knowing you're important, loved and that you belong? So many kids will never have those assurances, and in just a few tiny minutes, you can give that wonderful gift to your child. Priceless.)

The first paragraph was taken from 101 Ideas for Making Family Memories.

I hope Wednesday is a wonderful day for you. Tomorrow's date is fun, but it costs a little bit. We'll just look at it as "stimulating the economy." (Don't worry... It's not that expensive.) I'll talk to you tomorrow.