The trouble with skiing with Luke (pictured) is that he regularly says things like this: Hey, don't worry about it...it's only a double black this time. 
I find that skiing the "freshies" means that I have more wipe outs--but also that they're less painful. Last week, I ended up sliding down a rather large bump on my back with my skis straight above me. I'm sure those who were riding the lift directly above me were greatly entertained. Today, I took a good face plant, dropped a ski, and watched it slide 200 yards down the mountain. Thankfully, no one else was around to watch me hike/slide down after it.
Holiday Cheer: The Sunday after Christmas Jill and I went out hunting for a Christmas tree. We headed deep into the mountains, hiked over hill and dale, and then chopped it down and took it home, Griswold style....Okay, not really. We went to the basement and pulled out the enormous box containing the eight foot tree someone gave us last year (our first tree, by the way). It's a little thin around the bottom--but I think it looks nice. I also put up lights--which was not all that frustrating because they were all new and neatly wrapped. I'm sure next year will be more, um, entertaining. 
Ski Bum: Last year, I went skiing for the first time as a resident of Colorado. I greatly enjoyed it. This year, I caved in and got a season pass--which means I can go as much as I want (or, more realistically: I can ski as many times as I (a.) have time for and (b.) am allowed by my pregnant wife, who probably shouldn't ski.) Here's a picture of me in my new helmet and goggles. The helmet is white and has me half way down the road to looking like a storm trooper. 
A couple from church was kind enough to let us stay at their mountain home near Fairplay, Colorado. That's a pretty cool part of the state, if I don't say so myself. You come over Hoosier Pass and suddenly see a huge open plain--it looks like Narnia. Its a strange feeling, because if you look straight ahead (not very far), you'd think your in Nebraska, it's so flat. But if you look around, you realize you're at around 10,000 feet and there are some really big mountains around (You can see Pike's Peak from where we were staying).
vely cheap. I can even send you a picture if you're interested in the investmnt opportunity). Jill and I (but perhaps especially Jill) really, really like to get out of the big, dirty city. I also love the chance to sit around and read in peace (Mary Doria Russel is a really good writer. I'm now 300 pages into A Thread of Grace, and still loving it--which says something since I'm usually sick of books by about page 200--and that's if its a good book), to play games (a lot of "Ticket to Ride"--Choo, choo!--this weekend), and, drink coffee (that mug made it taste even better), and generally do nothing. For me, the only thing that would have made the weekend more perfect would be if I had a bike a long. I would have loved to tackle the thousands of acres of National Forest in the Cabin's back yard. Maybe next time. 
Becky Playing Hard to Get
I told you I was impressive.
Okay, that's not really me (I know you're really surprised). But I think I did all right. I got off the beginner hill, went down a few runs, and didn't fall too much--except when Cal "accidentally" took me down one of the hardest blues in the place. Then I looked more like this.
I'd like to think that mine were more impressive--that there were higher speeds involved, a bigger spray of snow, a few more acrobatics on my part--but they probably weren't. Regardless, this little clip captures a few key elements of my wipe outs: (A). The desperate flailing of arms before the inevitable fall. (B.) The slow, humiliating slide down hill (C) The high level of entertainment/comedy involved for onlookers (Cal's a really nice guy, but I'm sure even he laughed a lot on Thursday).
