Skiing in the desert: Las Vegas

I fit “right” in!

Looking ahead to the ski trip I’d been planning, I was worried I’d be writing another post about how I chickened out, this time on the slopes. The one time I’d tried skiing, I was a shy teenager in Albuquerque. After borrowing all of these ridiculous skiing clothes, renting equipment, signing up for the lesson… I didn’t last 15 minutes. I was older than the other beginners, I felt stupid, and I just hated the whole thing. I took off my skis (actually, “ski,” as I only ever got one on) and headed to the lodge, where I sat very happily reading my Sweet Valley High book I’d so wisely brought along. So I can very proudly say:

This time I didn’t chicken out.

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