Can we talk about Spring Break? The whole concept sounds lovely right? And I’m sure it is unless you’re traveling with my family to go on a ski vacation. Then it won’t be a break at all. It will be me doing everything I do at home just in a different location. Why? Because we stay at a condo.
Not just any condo but one with a washer, dryer, dishwasher and oh goodie cleaning supplies and a vacuum. Thus ensuring I get to cook and scour all while gazing on a snow-capped mountain vista. That’s what’s it all about right – chores with a view? Because it’s totally different to scrub a toilet if you can get a glimpse of the Sierra Nevada’s while you’re elbow deep in Pine Sol.
The kitchen is the killjoy of the trip. It’s there staring at you, mocking you, almost daring you to waste money on eating out. My husband’s favorite vacation mantra is, “Why go to a restaurant when we’ve got a kitchen? Think of all the money we’re saving. This way the condo pays for itself.” Ugh.
Oh sure, I get to ski and I know I sound like an ungrateful whiner and I acknowledge that my complaining is annoying but sorry I can’t seem to stop myself. Maybe it’s because by March I’m just not that giddy about experiencing a blizzard. Am I wrong that a spring vacation shouldn’t include pulling on long underwear, three pairs of socks, and shoving bags of thermal toe warmers into your boots and bra?
Then there’s the excitement of careening down a mountain seeing many “Beware of Bears” signs posted all over slopes. Oh yeah, it’s spring and the bears are rested, rejuvenated and ravenous! Bonus, a bear’s nose is super charged. It could be miles away and still get a whiff of my stress sweat and maybe, just maybe, jog over at an average speed of 35 miles per hour and say, “Howdy stranger.” This will freak me out so badly that I’ll probably forget about focusing on not falling and wipe out so hard I bounce like a basketball being dribbled by a group of third graders during a P.E. skills drill.
Falling is the worst thing that can happen because it means I have to, eventually, get up. If you’ve never tried to get upright on a slippery, snow encrusted slope with a vertical drop of 6,000 feet while standing on what amounts to a couple of fiberglass Swiffer Wet Jets strapped to your feet then you haven’t really lived.
Because nothing says FUN like multiple attempts to hoist your body into a standing position using your ski poles – which are basically the size of two car antennas ripped off a fleet of 1979 AMC Pacers – as your only form of leverage.
God help you if you lose a ski. Seriously, start praying because if you have to walk any distance in ski boots you’re doomed. A Sasquatch in six-inch stilettos has more grace and agility than a human being trying to traverse across a frozen tundra in ski boots. You might as well be wearing a toaster oven on each foot.
Once I’m finally up for good, have run out of curse words and I’ve chiseled the frozen tears and ice encrusted snot off my face I’ll head down the mountain because it will be time to make lunch and I’m sure I’ll have a load, or two, of laundry to do.
If you want a real break I suggest relaxing with one of my books.😍There’s Empty a “laugh till you cry” menopausal revenge adventure. (Yes, you read that right, menopausal revenge. It’s a thing.) Back to School is a hysterical read for any mom who’s experienced elementary school parent drama. Trouble in Texas is a tall tale of what happens when a daughter lets her septuagenarian mom enlist her in a wild scheme that could end up with both of them in jail. And Four Seasons of Snarky is full of short stories (perfect for the person who doesn’t have much time to read) that feature tales of suburban revenge. 😉
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