It is approximately Day 2 of the New Year, and I still don't have a New Year's resolution. I have officially failed at life. Meh.
I'm over it.
So, Jeremy and I went skiing on New Year's Eve. Well, I should say, I went "skiing," and Jeremy enjoyed his snowboard. He's one of those snowboarding types. I, however, am the nerd on 10-year-old skis, who is over-bundled in ridiculous-looking winter apparel.
I'm not kidding. It's been seven years since I touched a ski slope. I, apparently, missed the memo that reminded everyone that not only is snowboarding "cooler," but that we should all be wearing meticulously coordinated outfits, complete with matching goggles and eyeliner.
What the hell.
Here I am in three layers of pants, a coat that matches not one pair of those pants, bright red gloves (please note there is no red anywhere else in my ensemble), and a black scarf, strategically placed to be used as a Kleenex.
While Jeremy made his way down the slopes, looking cool with the other Cool People, I fumbled my way down, with my skis pointed permanently in the SLOW DOWN position.
I discovered, in the years since I was last on skis, that I'm a complete chicken shit. I don't enjoy the feeling that I might die if I hit that tree, or that if one ski crosses in front of the other, I'll wind up a paraplegic after tumbling down the slope in a knot of arms and legs.
I feel my legs are a valuable asset to my extracurricular activities, and if I broke either of them, I was going to be PISSED.
My mind, and body, eventually - three hours later - warmed up to the idea of skiing, and I was able to make it to the bottom of the slope without a flurry of four-letter words.
And at 10 p.m. there were fireworks. FIREWORKS. In the snow. Totally made the entire thing worth it because fireworks are the second coolest thing next to winning the lottery, which I've never done, so looks like fireworks win.
An hour before the New Year, and approximately two hours past my bedtime, we decided to detach ourselves from our equipment and head into the coffee lodge. I thawed my appendages by the fire, and we made plans to teach me how to snowboard.
What? I'm a sellout, man.
I rung in the New Year with snot on my face and a caramel macchiato in hand. Best way to go.