look out, 2014 olympics..?

Y'all. Everything hurts.

Why you ask? (I'll pretend you asked.) Three words: Snow. Board. Ing.

Yeah, that's right. Shaun White and I don't just have red hair in common. We also shred major powder, brah.

Unfortunately, snowboarding requires both balance and coordination, two things I am lacking. Nearly entirely. Like, it's bad. I regularly run straight into coffee tables and doorframes and stumble over the slightest pebble or crack in the sidewalk.

So obviously, I am not the ultimate in 'boarding. I still love it though, so when Brian planned for us to hit the slopes I was pumped. And also a bit nervous, since the last time I had been skiing or snowboarding was when I took lessons in the eighth grade. The most memorable moment of those lessons is when I was boarding (slowly and awkwardly and always on the verge of falling) down the mountain and I heard a wolf whistle. I was not an overly popular middle schooler - or moderately popular middle schooler, in fact, so thinking that someone on the ski lift might possibly be whistling at me, I got really excited and lifted my arm to wave at who I thought was whistling... and BUSTED IT face first.

ANYWAY, so Saturday, after spending 45 minutes (no exaggeration) digging our vehicle out of the snow and ice pit it was in after three Boston snowstorms, we headed up to Nashoba Ski Valley for our snowventure. We got there just in time for the noon lesson. We were fitted and hustled out to the baby slopes, where we were met by a barely-pubescent teacher for an hour's worth of snowboarding lessons. Every time the sixteen-year-old snowboard "instructor" (aka kid who was exchanging an hour of teaching newbies for a day of hitting the slopes) had us doing a J-turn or a toe-side stop or whatever else, I bit it. Fell every time. And every time, as I sat in the snow, the pimply teacher and I met eyes and trilled, "Balance!"... And I thought, "heh heh, I'll JACK YOU UP, you punk kid."

Anyway again, we finished our lesson and went to take on the big hill. After falling epicly getting off the snow lift (the liftworker actually shut the whole thing down just to mock us specially), we strapped in and headed down the mountain.

And you know what? I didn't fall! And Brian did! Okay, that's only because I stuck with the easiest thing, the "falling leaf" maneuver where you board back and forth without turning around, while Brian tried to attempt the toe-side turns and turns and other real moves. But, can I just say that my technique led to me reaching the bottom of the mountain well before Brian, who at one point fell head over feet down the hill?? I can.

In the end, we both had a blast. Brian fell several times while attempting intense speeds and cool moves. I fell several times getting off the lift and trying to ease down the mountain at a snail's mph.

It. Was. Awesome.

And now, I. Can't. Move. Every muscle hurts. Mostly the buttocks. Also the shoulders and lower abs. But DAMN, Y'ALL, does my ass hurt.

When can we go again?!?

snow day

It's a snow day! Yes, apparently even in Boston, with its jaded, snow-capable (or perhaps snow-weary?) citizens and tough, burly weather equipment, there comes a storm this city cannot quite cope with. Basically all schools and most workplaces are closed as the beautiful white dust falls on and on.

Brian (who is working from home due to the weather) and I took it upon ourselves to walk to the nearest open pub for lunch and some Guinness to get us through the storm. On the way back, being buffeted with wind and ice, Brian finally admitted, "You know, for someone from Mississippi, this is absolutely ridiculous." (Except he totally said something else besides "absolutely" - something that rhymes with "schucking"). 

And he's right, it is absurd. We went out to explore the snowy neighborhood when we got up this morning and by the time we had returned to our front stoop, barely 15 or 20 minutes later, our footsteps had been completely erased by newly fallen snow. But you know what? I love it. Having grown up in Utah, it's just in me. Every winter of my childhood there was a beautiful thick blanket of snow covered the entire city. When I was a kid, we brought two bags to school during the winter months: one was our backpack and the other was a duffel bag of snow gear. Every recess involved putting on snow overalls (usually big puffy ones in neon colors), snow boots, a big coat, gloves and a hat. Then we'd play in the snow, making forts and having snowball fights and god knows what else. Then we'd come in, remove our frozen outer layer and continue school. No big deal.

It's so weird to me that Mississippi kids never experienced this. "If the weather was bad enough to need any of that [snow gear]," Brian said on our walk, "we just wouldn't come to school."

As he's completely right: in ten years of school in Utah, I think we had three - maybe four - snow days, and on one of those we actually drove to school before we found out it was canceled because it was Ash Wednesday. In eight years of school (high school and college) in Mississippi, I think we had more than ten days off, including a whole week off in Jackson when the water pipes across almost the entire capital froze and burst. And those "snow" days more often than not ended up being a light dusting of snow that melted by 4:00 p.m... Mississippi is simply not adequately prepared for inclement weather. 

Which is why I'm so happy to be where I am. I love having four full seasons. And I love snow. And I love this city. 

Let's look at the snow!! These are from this morning around 9:30 a.m.:

Penny says, "What's all that white stuff?"

workers clearing the walks

Bay State Road

And these are from our return from lunch, around 2:30 p.m. (note the knee high and higher snow drifts):

compare this bicycle with the 9:30 a.m. one 

hip-high by the post office