A nose-smushing, snow-ploughing, leg-splitting weekend

I couldn't contain my excitedly summersaulting heart as we boarded the plane for Denver last Thursday. Imagine - my first ski trip ever!! Everyone was full of all manner of sage wisdoms for this first-timer.
"Be careful you don't break any bones," Azdadoobie and Ilajna advised sagely.
"Be prepared for a lot of face-time with the snow," Metrohom added his ever-ready dose of reality.
"Come back in one piece, we need our HR bod," urged Big Boss M.
Seagull, with his usual buoyant optimism, pshawed the spate of warnings dismissively. "Don't worry, no matter what you'll have a great time!"

And indeed he was right - the only thing I hadn't been prepared for was just how great a time it would be. Skiing, to my surprize, turned out to be relatively easy to pick up. Of course I had my share of tumbles. Of course there were moments I found myself semi-buried in the snow, sunglasses askew and skis asunder.

But you learn as much from your spills as from your successes don't you. Like for instance that it isn't necessarily a good idea to hurtle down the hill at breakneck speed before you've learnt how to brake. Or turn. And that the ski lift doesn't have eyes. Once you get off you HAVE to ski away immediately otherwise there's a pretty high chance of getting knocked over like a skittle. Which I, uhmm, learnt by watching someone else, of course.

But all in all how could it not have been a killer weekend?! What with Danby's famous chilli dinner for twelve. And Speshi's hidden talents at Connect Four. And Forness' little bathroom debacle. What with Metrohom commandeering the music, Bradstreet the telly and Seagull the beverages.

The weekend has synthesized itself into a blurred memory of breathtaking vistas, skimming down ski slopes, soaking in the hot tub, traipsing around in the woods in the dark, cooking together, drinking together, and much much laughter. I even have a vague recollection of an evening of grey goose, sake bombs, copious quantities of unidentifiable sushi, dancing and darts.

But all too soon, with a bleary-eyed sigh, the red-eye had brought us back to New York and real life.

"I learnt to ski!!!" I told everyone who would listen excitedly.
"Great why don't we go on a ski trip at the end of March?" asked Dub and Milo. No kidding. I can hardly believe it.