Ski Bums

Ski Bums

(I forgot to post this on Monday. I re-read it and desperately want to edit, but I’m not allowing myself. Pictures added today.)

The kids are on Spring Break this week and I am READY. Tons of plans in the works, starting with taking them skiing today. Peter took off the day from work and we left super early.

We saw some beautiful bison on the way up. Gorgeous creatures.

I’m sitting in the lodge at Loveland watching Team Provost take on the mountain. So so so sweet! Bittersweet, actually. (I’ll explain in a minute) Peter is snowboarding and the kids are skiing for the first time. They’re naturals! I love it and am kicking myself for not getting them on skis sooner. (although judging from Peter’s sporadic texts send from the slopes, it sounds like my little Finn is getting pissed easily. He’s a perfectionist and if he’s not perfect at something the first time, he doesn’t want to do it.)

I haven’t taken them skiing sooner because we just didn’t make it a priority. Or “I” didn’t make it a priority. (I don’t know how it is in your house but if this mama doesn’t plan shit, nothing gets done.)

I loathe being cold. Loathe it. My hands and feet freeze, as does my nose. I’m not talking the usual “I’m skiing. it’s a little brisk.” No. It’s serious business. I know I’ve mentioned it before that I have Raynaud’s Syndrome, but people have no idea what that means.

My hands, feet and nose get so cold, I can’t feel them. My college gal pals used to call them “dead hands.” They go bluish white and numb. The numbness could go on for hours, even after I go inside. Sometimes it’s just a few fingers. Then they get red and hot and hurt, until they finally calm down to a normal temperature. It fucking sucks. I’m not a wimp. I can’t “buck up.” There are no magical gloves that will keep this from happening. (Believe me, my dad and I tried every single pair at REI when I was younger and would go ski.) When we got here today, while renting boots and skis, I actually had the familiar sinking, panicky feeling I got when I used to ski. I had to tell myself “Oh no, lady. You’re not going. You have hot tea, your laptop, magazines and a Larabar waiting for you in the warmth.”

I tried to buck up so I could go get some pictures of them starting out. But that didn’t last long. I actually had to run inside because after being outside for 20 minutes, it had started and I couldn’t feel my feet, hands or nose.

Keep in mind, it is SPRING here in Colorado. It’s like 45 degrees and BEAUTIFUL. A bit windy, but beautiful. There’s no way I could be up here in the winter.

Before you ask, yes I had on enough clothes. Yes, I was wearing wool socks and boots. Yes, I was wearing the warmest mittens you can buy. Yes, I was wearing a scarf and hat. Yes to all of the questions you might ask me yourself and that I have been asked a million times. Nothing helps but getting out of the cold.

I’m a little pissed today because I wish I didn’t have an ailment where this happens. (I’ve been in stores before where if the air is too cold, it’ll happen.) Not to even mention the beautiful sun which is SHINING. No sun for lupus girl. No cold weather for lupus girl.

While buying tickets for Peter and the kids, the guy behind the counter said “Where’s your gear? What’s wrong with you? Get on the mountain!”

I smiled and said something about needing to catch up on some reading but the truth is I kind of wanted to cry. Yes, another instance where I look like nothing is wrong with me. (I know I know, I should feel grateful that it’s not something worse. And that I have two legs, etc but this is my pity party so just shut it for one second.)

(sidebar: Even though I overshare quite frequently, I pride myself on NOT being that jackass who says “Yeah, I can’t ski because I have lupus and Raynaud's syndrome and blah blah blah. I was at Target the other day and said to the checker “Hey, how are you?” and she said, in a VERY leading manner “Well, I’m FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!”

“Fantastic? You never hear that. That’s great.” I said.

“Well, today is my birthday and I’m very lucky to be alive.” she said looking at me dramatically.

I hate leading statements.

She wants me to ask why she’s lucky to be alive.

I’m not going to.

Because you know what?

I could answer “Guess what, asshole? ME TOO!”

I didn’t say anything. She finished checking me out and tried her gimmick on the next victim customer.)

But today, I’m pissed because I’m not out there with the rest of my team taking on the day.

End of pity party.

On the plus side, my hair looks really good and I’m not wearing uncomfortable ski boots. Those things are brutal.

More pics of the blue eyed devils on the mountain!