The White Stuff


I had canned chili last night for dinner. And, as much as I try to convince myself that it’s Paleo, because it was the kind without the beans, we all know that’s not really true. I shudder to think about what reading the label will reveal.

I added smoked Italian sausage to the chili. Full of additives and not-so-good-for-you things.

And, then I sprinkled plaintain chips on top of the chili, poured myself a glass of cheap red wine and called it a day. Because it had been a day. It’s been a week.

The week after vacation is always a killer, right? The week after a killer vacation, though… what’s that? That week is one that will have you begging for mercy. I haven’t gotten home earlier than 7pm at all this week. My bedroom looks like a suitcase exploded and the rest of the house has become this building that I don’t recognize anymore.

Was it worth it?


It was, by far, one of my favorite vacations, ever.

I ski’d my little Ginger heart out!

A month or so ago we got invited to go skiing with friends. As one who has never seen more snow than Alabama has to offer, I had to confirm with those friends that they were ok having two novice skiers tagging along. Once approved, we approached everyone we knew and borrowed snow clothes from 7 different people. Thanks to each and every one of you, by the way. Let me finish this week out strong, and I’ll wash everything and return it to you by next Friday, K?

Skiing is tough. Especially if you’re 32 years old and have the balance of a white girl who can’t really dance. So, I found myself in a beginners skiing class on day one with Chase and Donna, 2 additional first timers, and our instructor, Denise, an elementary teacher turned mountain hippie, who compared skiing to floating down the slope like a “drunk ballerina”. We learned to “make a pizza” with our ski’s and to weave back and forth in an “S” shape. I also learned how painful ski boots can be if you rent a size that is too big (Hello, bruised shins!).

Class helped with the basics. By day two, my friends felt I was ready to tackle some Green slopes. If you know nothing about skiing, I’ll tell you that slopes run from Green to Blue to Black – single Green being the easiest, and Double Black being the most difficult. I hope that’s right. Readers, don’t jump all over me if it’s not, please.

My first attempt at a green slope took about 45 minutes and 4 falls. Special thanks to Katie for being my cheerleader! 🙂

I was done. I felt like crying. I didn’t, though. I saved my tears for the next day, like a pro. Day two was cut short by painful boots, which led to limping, and full discouragement.

Day three, I woke up with a new resolve, and a tiny hangover. After trading out the wonky boots, and two practice runs, I managed to make it down a Green slope without falling! Then, I lost every ounce of confidence I had when I found myself at the top of a blue slope and couldn’t manage to bring myself to go down it. I just stood there, frozen. What started as tiny tears turned into a full breakdown, in which I took off both ski’s, and marched back up the slope, towards the ski lift, trying to figure out how to get back down to safety WITHOUT skiing.

Shout out to the friend who, instead of yelling for me to suck it up, was patient enough to encourage me to try another blue slope, and spent what felt like an hour watching me faceplant into the snow at least 7 times while trying to get down it. Did I mention he’s a snow boarder? That’s right. Never ski’d a day in his life. And yet he helped me with turns, stops, and provided some comic relief.

Luan, you rock. Seriously. Thank you.

So, maybe I wasn’t fully ready for the blue slope. To end the trip, I took one last run down a Green, and was satisfied with my performance over the course of the weekend.

And, I vowed to go back next year…With my own ski clothes this time.

This view made it all worthwhile!

This view made it all worthwhile!





Thoughts? I'd love to hear them!