So, how was your trip, really?

In addition to this totally hippie inspired t-shirt, a couple huge pine cones the size of my head, and a nasty purple bruise on my right hip bone, I walked away from our Winter Break trip to Tahoe with appreciation and love of my life.

Chris took this picture of me in my Maintain Your Brain t-shirt as soon as we got back to the cabin (let's be honest- vacation home.) I put on my new shirt immediately. You can't really tell from the photo, but this is the back of the shirt. I love this shirt. I am not a big t-shirt wearer. I'm just not. I have about four I sleep in. When we moved from Texas to NY I purged all of my tees (in the greatest garage sale ever), most I had received for free at some run or non-profit event. I kept a few to workout in and sleep in, but now, three years later, most of those have gone down the trash chute. (Which I do feel guilty about. Did you know that the number one recyclable item in NYC that is thrown away instead of recycled is fabric/ material? Towels, rags, old clothes, sock, bedding. True true.)

Anyway, I love this shirt. I haven't bought a shirt with one of those obnoxious vacation destinations (Cancun, Estes Park, Destin) spelled out boldly across the chest since Eureka Springs in 8th Grade. Seriously. I have never even owned an I Heart NYC shirt. How sad! Travesty!

And being the youngest in our group of seven (Chris' family flew up from Texas and met us in Reno, NV) I got to "ride in the back" one night on our way to dinner. Although it was a little cramped, I'd do it again just to get to "ride in the back." My parents were good parents, and never let us sit in the suburban where there was not a seat belt. It wasn't as fun as I had hoped it would be as a child.

I am proud of myself for giving skiing another try. This was my second time to ski, ever, the previous time being in 1999. Even though a sign at the ski rental shop said "Friends don't teach friends how to ski" Chris gave me about a 1-2 hour refresher course. I did get frustrated alot. Not at him, at me. At my lack of trust in myself. At my fear of going "too fast." I'd tell him to "leave me alone" and "go away" but I knew I didn't really mean it. I just knew he'd have more fun doing his own thing- faster thing down Black slopes and leave me to the Greens and Blues. I know he just wanted me to have fun and feel secure in myself.


But see, this is not just a problem on the ski slopes but in my life. Lack of security, lack of confidence in my abilities. I know what to do in my head, but I'm scared to do it.

After the first day of skiing (8AM-1:30 ish) I called it a day. Chris continued to ski and I sat in the lodge drinking a cup of 1/2 decaf coffee and 1/2 of that great hot cocoa that flows piping hot from those machines where you press the button and wait for the cup to fill. (Just like at 7-Eleven, or Racetrack or Exxon.) Sitting there I eavesdropped on the cutest family for about 30-45 minutes.

Julia looked to be about 9 and Adaline was about 4. Adaline had been skiing with her dad and Julia with her mother. As the four year-old waited with her dad for mom and sister to return from the slopes, he peeled an orange for her and pulled a peanut butter sandwich- on raisin bread (the BEST)- out of a baggie. "Dad I was exhausted," she told him. To which he replied,"Let's be honest. You were terrified." They were conversing back and forth about the days events and how he had carried her down the last run of the afternoon. When mom arrived they talked some more about their skiing experiences.

I loved it when dad said that carrying Addy down the mountain was nothing compared to peeling that orange. I loved hearing Addy whisper to Julia, "Let's pretend our hot chocolate is coffee, okay?" as if it were some illegal substance that only grown-ups could drink; like "Let's pretend this hot chocolate is one stiff hotty toddy, okay?" I loved it when the girls offered dad some hot cocoa and told him he really should have some. "You deserve it, Dad."

Families are great. If I ever have a little Christopher Chad I want him to climb, like Chris does. I want him to hear the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean and the piercing honk of Canadian geese in flight. I want him to experience skiing and swimming and mountains and seeing a seed turn into a cantaloupe or a tomato or a daffodil. I want him to be as earthy as Chris and I are; to love the outdoors and feel at home in it. I want him to know that french fries come from potatoes.

I do realize I live in NYC, which has a lifeblood all it's own. It's own heartbeat and rhythm and attitude. But getting away, is necessary. I do feel just as alive when it's 20 degrees at 6:30AM and the only other person I can see or touch or hear is Chris and we're looking across a foggy Lake Tahoe mid-run, as I do basking in the sun on The Great Lawn in Central Park with hundreds of other half naked people, playing Frisbee or reading or drinking wine from plastic cups. Life is Good. Life is This.

I often say "I am exhausted," but the One who carried me down the mountain says, "Let's be honest, you were terrified."