Newest Obsession Number Three

Skiing.

i feel the need to say nothing more, to withhold the words that might blot the pristine connotation of this word that conjures images of white flakes floating from the sky, blowing past your face and some getting stuck in your eye lashes and your hair as you fly down a mountain, the white path ahead inviting you further- faster. the layer of fresh "powder" through which your skis cut with a mighty attempt at some kind of delicate precision, a layer that sometimes blows apart for your arrival invitingly, then throws itself across the back of your left ski- that damn weaker knee, and holds it down while your body and your other ski continue to soar down the mountain, pushed along by that fresh "powder" once appearing so gentle and motherly, until suddenly you have fallen headlong down the powder, not as soft as you had once assumed, which devours a second ski as you cartwheel unintentionally down the mountain, passing a sign with some writing and a curious black shape, maybe a square, but you cant really tell because you are still doing cartwheels. unintentionally. finally you roll to a stop; you stand up but the boots that are bigger than your head and weigh more than your car wont budge in the snow drift which is slowly enveloping your body inch by inch until only the tip of your nose can be seen, a little white flag you wave at the powder. if the snow were not compacted around your mouth, you would probably say "you win snow but suddenly a little man in a red hat attaches a tiny cord to your white flag and his little snow machine begins to buzz furiously you find you are out of the snow drift faster than you lost that first ski. relief; you did not utter the words of defeat. and you shake your fist at the cold... beautiful snow like an ocean of white, each flake a different shape and design you despise because of its inherent superiority and say, "ill get you this time you stupid Mary Jane Slope!" As you walk up the mountain sideways to collect your forlorn little skis. a baby wearing only his diapers zooms past you. his skiis are twice as tall are you are. yours barely reach his chin. you witness as he reaches the same menacing snow drift that so recently tried to eat you. it parts like the red sea....



or maybe not. i had one hell of a great week in winterpark!!

skiing is my new favorite thing to do.