Soooo.
This is how my big ski adventure turned out:
Yeah. It totally rained at the ski resort.
It's going to be 57 degrees tomorrow. Fahrenheit. We really must get rid of flatulent cows.
(If you didn't follow that, look into global warming. It's all down to flatulent cows.)
I'm not bitter.
I'm going to try again on Saturday. Supposed to hit below the 40's somewhere. Like 38. At least in the mountains. We shall see if we shall ski. And if we don't die, we shall report.
(And I would just like to say that when I become famous I'll clean up that mess behind me. In the meantime, eh.)
Crack on, my children. Crack on.
In the meantime, I'm going to watch a James Bond movie. You know, one where he outruns the bad guys who are dressed like machine gun toting abominable snowmen, on a simple pair of skis with a jetpack. Motivational.
Happy sweaty New Year, dudelettes.
I’m sympathetic. My kids had a ski trip planned here and it was cancelled due to green grass, too. Bummer. The good news is that after it’s 52 degrees here tomorrow, it’s supposed to get down to 15 degrees by Monday night. High of 29 on Tuesday.
Then I hope Winter goes back to the North Pole and stays there.
Aw, dang! Where, Paoli Peaks? Is that still there?
I’m with you. Giving me some skiing, then go home, Winter.
Yes, Paoli Peaks. They have a great group deal that includes lunch and a lesson if you need one. The girls get to go and do a real live ski thing. So exciting here in the Midwest. Our rolling hills are as high as it gets in Indiana. We’re so proud.