So. My New Year’s Eve was rather uneventful. Just out to eat with my family and my friend Casii, coming home to Dance-Dance ‘til we dropped, watch Uptown Girls and the Ball drop (at eleven), and making my dad nervous with talk of going out to find someone to kiss at midnight. Oh, and several games of Spit (if you don’t know what this is, you are really missing out).
It was New Year’s Day that got me, and now I am oh-so-sore!
I am starting to get more interested in snow/ice related sports, so Sunday my mother, sister and I went cross-country skiing for the first time. ooOOoo, big whoop, right? WRONG! The first thing is actually getting the skis on, which I did really without incident. Actually, I am quite proud to say I didn’t fall down at all… until we somehow wandered off the beginner trail onto what I’m sure was, like, Devil’s Canyon or something. I seriously had no idea how to turn while going downhill, resulting in some amazing acrobatics (and, dare I say, contortionism?) that would have been great footage for some sick show like America’s Funniest Home Videos, but there was nobody taping me. In fact, there was nobody around at all. I had left my sister, who was being helped along by my mother, far behind.
I wasn’t scared. Mostly I was just annoyed with the layout of the trail. Seriously, why would anyone plant a thorn bush there? Get that stupid tree out of my way! I am relieved to say that I made it back to the visitors center alive and in one piece.
Anyway, I had a blast, it was beautiful outside, and I did really well until we started sky-diving off snowy cliffs into sharp thorn-infested forests…
Yeah, so I’m pretty sure that I’m going again next weekend, but this time I’m bringing Casii so as to have some emotional support. Hopefully I’ll be able to walk normally by then, too.
Peace out, homeys.