Letters to Grandma: Ski The Fish

This year was our second family trip to Whitefish Mountain. To say we scored in the weather department is an understatement. Blue skies and sunshine, baby, and that's what I call a good ski trip. The snow was a bit slushy, but that's spring skiing, and you can't really complain when you're wearing sweatshirts by the end of the day.

It sure was fun to ski with all the kids together, and Mom and Dad too. My favorite was the runs we would all ski together. I'd hang at the back of the pack and watch all my kiddos - and there's a tribe - sail over the snow, even little Max in the middle of the group, their bright coats curving back and forth, and my heart would sing. Skiing with the littles was relaxing and skiing with the bigs was inspiring. My heart was full ~ right up to the top!

The biggest and best outcome of this long snow season was new skis and boots for Momma.
Me.
Yours truly.

Shannon and I made a roadie to look at campers in the middle of a snowstorm mid-February. It was a grand time to look at campers, as I don't think they'd made a sale since October. But that's a different story altogether.

What we didn't realize was that it was an emergency-travel-only day. So when we swung into a ski shop, there were salespeople available to help this rather hasty shopper before I changed my mind and left. Shannon made me sit down and try on boots til I found a pair I liked - or rather, that fit well. Then they were heat molded to my feet! Ahhhhh. Pure bliss I'm telling you, after wearing too-large hand-me-downs from one of my brothers for, oh, say, 20 years.

Following that, I demoed several pairs of skis thinking I'd look forward to new skis next year. Of course, after using the same skis since Michaela was a baby (or perhaps before) it wasn't difficult to find a pair I loved.

All the demos were going to be sold the following week, but I knew they'd be way more money than this cheapskate would want to spend. Shannon made me get up early on sale day and drive to the hill. I was rather annoyed, thinking of all the time I was wasting and the line I was going to get to stand in, all for naught.

As luck would have it, I was first in line. When I asked for the pair that had stolen my soul, they only wanted $250. I nearly tipped over, considering they sell for over $800 before adding bindings.
Naturally, Shannon hasn't let me hear the end of how wise he was to force me to make the drive that snowy Monday morning.

And now, my old Rossi Cuts stand in the corner. I know they really belong in a dumpster, but I can't quite make the break just yet. Years ago when I couldn't afford new skis, I vowed to learn to love them, and love them I did. There are so many scratches on the tops from my babies skiing over them as I taught them to ski, that, I dunno, I may keep them tucked away just for sentimentality.

Cards with Grandpa ~ my boys were in Heaven!

We never realized how beautiful the mountains were!

Max was proficient by the end of our trip ~

Thank you, Daddy!

Two of my girls ~

The other one was racing down the hill with her brothers.

I often ended up on the chair behind Shannon with some random stranger.

And the people I met!

It sure made for some interesting lift rides.

Headed back to our rental home ~

Could Montana be more spectacular?!

Seriously, Dom! Always a smart face.

The whole family....and Jesus.

I know I should take this statue more seriously, because, well, it's a statue of Jesus.

But it always kinda cracks me up standing around Him slopeside.

Where WAS Michaela?

One funny moment ~ Nickles was laying in the snow by the lift waiting for Daddy and Maximo. He may or may not have been throwing a little temper tantrum.

This skier comes hauling the mail into the lift line, not even noticing this kid whose legs were simply too tired to stand up. The skier made a fabulous spray of snow, completely burying Nickles in the process. Adding insult to injury, all the rest of us were laughing so hard tears were

streaming down our cheeks.