Call me ignorant. Call me uneducated. Call me hard-headed. Call me what is that crazy-ass woman screaming about and who is Scott?
In four weeks, my crazy will be showing on top of a mountain.
Scott is taking me skiing in Keystone, Colorado. He will push me down a mountain and expect me to lean forward like I’m on some sort of suicide mission.
Scott’s current annoyance level with me is at a “fine, screw it. I’ll hire private lessons for you on the first day. I’m not dealing with this.”
Whatever level that is.
We took the family to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get snow skiing gear.
Kate: I know how to spell dicks! D-I-C-K-S! Dicks.
Emma: Kate, you’re just copying the Dicks sign.
It was Scott’s last laugh. I don’t know, the words just came spewing out of my mouth and now Scott isn’t talking to me:
Scott, I’ve never seen a mountain. I went to Denver once but it was cloudy.
I told you. I don’t believe in cold vacations. All of my beliefs are traced back to my parents. Don’t blame me on how I was raised.
My mom is Mexican.
I was raised normal, Scott.
What happens if I don’t want to get off the ski lift? Can I ride back down?
What happens if I don’t want to go down once I’m pushed off the lift?
Can I ride on someone’s back and close my eyes?
Can you pull me on a sled and close my eyes?
All I’m saying is I’d much rather be three quarters naked on a boat.
Yeah, well fighting a 200 pound fish is a workout too.
How many layers? How is this even considered a vacation?
I swear, if you take off with your friends and leave me on top of a mountain by myself, I will click off those skis and walk sideways down the mountain. I will find you and strangle you.
Given the choice of looking crazy or rolling down a mountain in a ball of snow, I’ll take crazy.
Oh, I’m only shopping for Burton apparel.
Yes, I plan on telling people that my last name is Burton so yes, people will know.
How is that embarrassing?
Hell no, I won’t try snowboarding. I’d rather walk.
What are the ski stick thingies for? Is it a brake?
Why would I need zippers on my pockets? Oh, so you take your phone with you when you ski? Would it be possible to hold a phone out in front of you while you’re skiing? Or is that too much balancing?
I went skiing once in 5th grade on a hill in Kansas or maybe Missouri. It’s called Snow Creek. My friend’s parents took me with their family. All I remember is cold and where’s my mommy.
Is Keystone like the cheap-y economy style skiing resort? You know, like the beer?
How am I acting like a child? Wait, worse than a child? Oh, because I’m arguing about scenarios that haven’t even happened. That makes complete sense.
Avalanches are a real thing.
Frost bite is a real thing.
Mountain lions are a real thing.
Me getting my tongue stuck on the bar of a lift is a real thing.
Uh, can totally see you sneaking off the side of the mountain to go shoot a mountain lion.
I’m not dumb. I’m just realistic.
Well, maybe I can hang with you and your friends on the double black diamond. You don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a natural.
Don’t tell me I’m not allowed on the double black diamond, Scott. You’re not my father.
Then send a helicopter.
Yes, I’ve seen pictures of people having fun skiing. And I feel sorry for them. They look cold.
How is preferring warm weather being judgy?
So it’s going to be the exact same temperature as here? Great.
No, I didn’t bring a coat. I don’t need it running in and out of a store.
So you just go up and down a mountain, like, all day? How about just once then we go see the town?
Yes, I still want to go.
Why would you cancel it?
I promise, Scott. I won’t be the crazy wife.
Have you ever been snow skiing? Do you prefer skiing over a warm vacation? Has your spouse quit talking to you because of your hard-headedness? Am I the only person to never see a mountain? Any advice is welcome! I’ll listen to you, just not Scott.