Just The Two of Us

What Were You Doing in 1986?

Africa

Things One Should Never Do Over The Age of 39...

 Or in RW's case, over the age of.. 55.  Yeah, sorry about the quality of that picture.  What are we doing?

Sledding.  Allow me to let you in on a little secret:  We are too.old.to.go.sledding.  It's one of those things that sound so fun.  So... retro.  As if we will rediscover our long-gone youth out on the slopes.  While I didn't really rediscover my youth, let me tell you what I DID discover.  I found out that my old body will bruise in the most horrid and ugly and non-beautiful ways possible were I to go sledding.  Not that there is really any way to bruise beautifully, at least not that I'm aware of.  

I also found out that it's not as easy to pop out of my tube after being dragged up the hill via the tow rope.  That can be just a smidge embarrassing, and now that I think about it, perhaps the cause of the lovely bruise explosion on my upper thigh.

When Karen suggested with exuberant enthusiasm last winter that we "SHOULD GO SLEDDING!!", I thought it was a grand idea.  Sure, why not, right?  I hadn't been sledding in.. oh... 30 years or so?  Well hello..!  There's a reason I haven't been sledding in 30 years.  It's not really meant for people over 10, in my opinion.  Especially at a ski resort.  I say "ski resort" slightly tongue-in-cheek.. I mean, how much of a ski resort could the great (non-mountain) state of MN have anyway?  And, I'm not really a skier - I know this will positively shock those who know me.  Strapping boards on my feet, bending at the waist, and catapulting down a mountain as fast as I can never really appealed to me.

I did go skiing once, in 7th grade.  It was the first and last time I did that.  I didn't have any lessons.  I was brought to the top of a very high hill.  I pointed myself down, and went.  I didn't know how to turn.  I didn't know how to stop.  Given those things, I shouldn't be surprised that I plowed someone down (not kidding), and then ran into the chalet at the bottom. 

One would think this would be the most embarrasing thing to happen at Aspen Alps that night, but I shall step aside for Sista.  Sista Betsy actually won in the embarrasing category. Let's just say that when one rides the ski lift to the top, one ought to actually get off.  If one doesn't get off on the top, one should at least get off in time at the bottom, or at least raise your skis so they don't get stuck under the lift mechanism.  Yeah, like I said, I stepped aside for Betsy that night.  I'm not sure how she ever.showed.her.face.again at Afton Alps.  Oh wait - I'm pretty sure she didn't.

Anyway.  I've diverted off topic.  Back to the thing at hand - sledding at a ski "resort". If you are over the age of 10 (ok, I'll give you until 30), please don't do it.  I'm posting this as a public service announcement, I feel that it is my duty to warn you.  It's not as fun as it looks.  Let your joy be in watching the kids do the sledding, and do them a favor, stay at the bottom of the hill, ready to guide the young 'uns to the fire pit while handing them a hot chocolate.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

Awkward Family Photos

The past few years I've studied quite a few photos, as I've scanned more than 10,000 of my parent's pictures, converting them to digital format.  I've now moved on to my own pictures, doing the same thing.  This means that I've been spending more than enough time revisiting events of the past.  Every so often I'll be posting under the category of "Blast from the Past".  Today is one of those days.

Once in awhile one comes across a picture that completely epitomizes the event at which the picture was taken.  Hold on for it... prepare yourself for 1985.  Are you sure you're ready for the bad hair and clothes?  Ok, have at it:

In case you aren't sure of who is who, the people laughing and having a grand ol' time are 2 of my sisters and my mother.  Standing next to my mother, looking as if I have the worst possible life, is yours truely. (and really, what's up with my Japanese sweatshirt? Could I not find one in English?)

This picture says it all about that trip.  Surely you can understand why a 14-year-old would absolutely, positively refuse to even consider the possibility of having a good time on vacation, right?  Shoved into a smallish car with 4 other people (who dare(!) to laugh and smile and have a good time) to drive across the country and into another one, all the way to British Columbia?  A 14-year-old forced to see the world.  One forced to look at beautiful Lake Louise (where this picture was taken).  One forced to see cool glaciers and spectacular mountains.  Forced to wade in mountain streams, and take horseback rides and train trips through those same mountains.  Can you see the absolute abuse heaped upon me?

That vacation was proof that one can make a decision and really stick to it. I think that I had decided that no matter what we did or where we went, I would.not.have.any.fun. on this vacation.  You know... 14-year-old logic. Who knew I had such stick-to-it-ness in me?

To this day when that trip comes up in conversation, either of those sisters or my dear mother laugh and say.. "Oh THAT vacation...!" It's landed itself in our family lore, but not really in a good way, if you know what I mean.

So I suppose I'll take this opportunity to tell Becky, Betsy, my mom and my dad, that if they wish to have a re-do of our 1985 Trip West, I'm game.  I'll behave this time.  I may even laugh, if I absolutely can't help it.  But really if you think about it, I did us all a favor.  Every family needs at least one awkward family photo, right?  Right?!  Ok, perhaps not.  

A few weeks ago I commented on this blog that there are times in life that I'm actually grateful that God didn't bless us with children.  This just may be one of those times... I'm not sure I'd want to risk being stuck with a kid just like I was.  Thankfully, it was just a phase, although a quite bothersome phase for those forced to live through it with me.  Just saying.