|Image via Wikipedia|
I'm not a big winter person anywhere but winter in Vermont, includes warm maple milk, snapping log fires, frosted mountains and is the perfect seasonal experience...at least for a weekend away. This weekend it was -15 below zero on top of the ski mountain so it was a bit chillier than my tastes generally allow.
I skied. I am halfway through a pregnancy, learned as an adult, hate truly cold weather and am deeply intimidated by athletics but I did, I skied. I was absurdly proud of myself. I do think that going out on the slopes in -15 below while pregnant is an achievement, isn't it?
|Carts of chocolates in the factory.|
In other news, we had some lovely chocolates after our tour at Lake Champlain Chocolates (not nearly as cool as the Ben and Jerry's tour but still rather stocked with free tastings). I do recommend purchases of whatever seconds the factory has on hand at the moment. I also reccomend picking up anything you can that's made by The Vermont Butter and Cheese Factory who are another company I swoon over in The Green Mountain State. They make some of our very favorite cheeses, for instance the Cremont and the Bonne Bouche are right up at the top of our salivation list. How did I get on to cheese? Time to take another look at our Great Cheese List sometime soon I sense.
Ru is turning out to be a top notch skier already at the ripe old age of 5. I am by turns jealous, proud, wistful and inspired by watching him zipping down the slopes fearlessly. I wish I had half of his vim and deep belief in his own genius. He is intimidated by no one. Not a single impressive, cocky racer whipping past him on the hill can make him wobble and pout. He thinks everyone at the resort is wonderful and everyone who is more talented than he is is just a few inches ahead and completely exciting. I was sharing with A on our drive back home that I truly believe deep in my soul that I need to treat everyone else on the run with me as a potential enemy because they all might find it hilarious to knock over that ridiculous looking, clearly terrified inchworm of a grown woman, creeping her way down the hill in giant, baby-step zig-zags. I believe the absolute worst of every other person on the slope. Isn't that awful of me? I am generally not nearly so cynical and prefer to believe the best of everybody but somehow skiing brings out my inner conspiracy theorist.
On the way home A and I read Greek myths to each other. Such incredibly interesting stuff. We are loving all those romantic, hilariously bawdy, heartwarming and curious tales. Some of them are very familiar to me (Pandora, Odyssus and the Cyclops etc.) but some pretty completely new (Hera's escapades to punish Zeus, the goddess Io and the Greek account of creation and the great flood). I didn't realize how much I had missed reading together. We've taken a long break and not been working our way through anything for a while. We've made our vacation schedule for the year though and have planned quite a few happy little road-trippy type jaunts and I am determined to begin packing the books again. We're even going to read fiction like we used to before we accidentally picked up a Henry James that one time. Heh.