December is full of birthdays in my family, and in January, we've got one more. This year it's a whopper--my Dad is 80 years old today! Wish we could be with him, celebrating in southern California. Hope he's enjoying some warm sunshine and that the air smells like flowers. That would be heaven. Here in Montana, it smells like ice.
I have one of the December birthdays myself, and even though the physical signs of aging are all here, I'm pretty grateful for my 45 years of experience. Just think what Dad has experienced in the last 80 years. My sister Laurie, who has another of our December birthdays, hit an impressive mile stone herself. She just turned 50. You all know that 80 is the new 60, 50 is the new 30, and 45 is . . . time to get bifocals.
My immediate family of 8 went skiing for Christmas, making it the second Big Family Ski Trip in the history of the Jess Cole Family. We hope to have such trips more often, but it's pretty flat out here in SE Montana, and quite a journey to get to some mountains. This year we took a 14-hour train trip to Sandpoint, ID. Traveling by train is a bit more relaxing than traveling by car. You can sleep if you want, and get up and move around a bit. But trains do get behind schedule and aren't always invincible in bad weather. Just keep that in mind. Our trip went smoothly, for the most part, and we were grateful. Just one thing, though. If you ever need a taxi in Sandpoint, ID, the service is lacking, especially at 4 a.m. Sandpoint was MUCH warmer than NE Montana, thank heavens, and THAT was a blessing.
I'm quite impressed with all my kids on skis. We've come a long way since our first family ski trip. Now, everyone can take care of their own boots, skis, poles, etc. And they all excitedly swoosh off with great confidence. Even Ivy, who's almost 3, willingly made it down the bunny hill a few times each day, with a very patient Jess in tow. Every time she fell, she scooped up handfuls of snow and ate them right up, quickly forgetting the real task at hand. Jess had to keep her on track--she was on skis and facing down hill, after all.
I was pretty happy on the bunny slope, myself, and had a helpful one-hour ski lesson. But Jess thought it was time for me to move on and up, up, up the mountain. I shouldn't have gone with him--it was misery. At one point I sat gloomily on a bench with half the mountain still below me, terrified, and exhausted. Memories came back of the day Jess proposed to me. On that day I had thought he was a maniac on a snow machine. I had sat on a bench out in the snow with dried blood all over my face, having just been given a ride by a police officer, and had vowed never to go out with Jess again. And here we were, 20 years later, Jess determined that I should see the view from the highest peek, even though the easiest slope on the mountain still made me nervous. This time, I sat on the bench in the snow and vowed NEVER to humor Jess on a snowy mountain again. We could be at K2 in northern Pakistan 20 years from now, knowing Jess. But I won't do it. I won't do it.
Advice from a wisened 45 year old who's on the cautious side--if you'd like to ski when you are older, learn to do it when you are young!
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