The other day, I posted something about honeymooning in Canada on another blog and it got me to thinking about ridiculous moments in my life. Learning to ski on my honeymoon in Canada pretty much tops the list.
You know how at the time of your ridiculous moment, it is either horrifying, embarrassing or just sad? Then as time passes, it is added to your rolodex of hilarious life moments? I have a big rolodex. I've often thought of the times in Isabella's life when she'll get to hear of my stories just to make her feel better about hers. Wonder if it'll help. At least she'll get a good laugh.
Like, when walking down the hall of the fancy corporate office I worked in with my knit skirt tucked up into the top of my knit tights, showing off my white underwear. Yeah. Walked all the way down the hall past every VP's office until one of the assistants cornered me. I never wore the skirt again.
Or when I hiked the Grand Canyon. I'd never hiked or camped before but decided to do it there, rim to rim. Also thought it'd be wise to wear steel-toe boots to "protect" my feet. Years later, the four toenails I lost still haven't recovered. The doc says I have traumatized them. Who knew toes were so emotionally sensitive?
Or snorkeling in the Mexican Caribbean. I am, and always have been, afraid of any bodies of water not clear and chlorinated. I was dating my husband at the time and wanted to impress him with my fearlessness. I jumped in and immediately panicked, gulping half the ocean and millions of microorganisms. The really sad part? It was in a man-made lagoon with rocks meant to stand on for the freaker-outers. After paddling like a madwoman, my husband finally grabbed me and made me put my feet down on the rock below me. And he STILL married me!
And that brings us back to Canada. It was my idea to do something different. My husband loves to ski, I'd never done it. So why not on our honeymoon? Why not at Whistler, where celebs go? How difficult could the easiest slopes be? Um. We didn't do our research to find out that the easiest slopes in Whistler are equal to the difficult ones elsewhere.
Like a good newbie, I planned to take a full day of lessons. At lunch, I met my new dear husband at the fabulous lodge. He had seen me practicing, awed by my ability to learn the sport so quickly. He even said I didn't need to finish that afternoon's lessons. I knew enough to get started. Wow, was I ever surprised and proud!
So, we head down the slopes. I tumble within 2 seconds of starting. I fall, eat snow and fling my skiis for the next 2 1/2 hours it takes me to get down that $%@! hill. Tiny children are flying by me on boards or skiis with no poles! A guy in a handicapped ski chair passed me by as I cursed the cold.
Turns out, my husband didn't see ME practicing. He saw another girl with curly hair and a powder blue ski jacket. She knew how to cut back and forth. I'd only gotten as far as learning to snowplow. Needless to say, I wasn't even good at that!
At least my life has adventures, with all their mishaps. Perhaps I can at least convince my daughter not to try anything new on her honeymoon.