A Wintery Break from New York City

A photo lovingly known as, "Baking Day with My Bitches"

Warning: This post does not occur in New York City, was not written in New York City, and may not even mention New York City after this sentence. You may say, "But, Emily, isn't the whole point of this blog to share your thoughts and experiences in New York City?" To that I reply, this is my blog, and I'm in charge here, so just sit back, relax, and read on.

Thanks to my "cushy" non-profit job, I get 8 days off at Christmas, add two vacation days to that and it means I have two full weeks off from work and away from the City. The first week was spent at home in Memphis, full of delightful activities including Baking Day, Christmas with the Gattusos, Christmas with the Canons, a burger from Huey's, Christmas Eve with Fondue and The Grinch, and Christmas morning full of wonder, bacon, and presents.

Arriving in Utah

A couple days later the children hopped on a plane and headed West. After a long day and a couple snafus, we arrived at the Black Diamond Lodge at Deer Valley, Utah. It's been our spot for some time now, eleven years by my count, though perhaps plus or minus one. We settled into our usual rooms, and were asleep within moments of pulling the covers over our shoulders.

The next morning we sent Davis along to Ski School. In case you did not know, skiing with his family is beneath him. He is an expert skier who cannot fathom skiing less than 90% Black Diamonds a day. With Davis gone into the trees, the chutes, and other crazy slopes, the rest of us were ready for an easier, albeit challenging day. We met Spike, our trusty instructor over the past three years, in the locker room. He was surprised to see us downstairs before 10:00am (for the record, it was 9:50am).

Spike introduced us to our second instructor, a woman named Sam. It is important, perhaps, to give a brief description of Spike. By the name you may be picturing some young gun with tattoos and a facial piercing. You'd be wrong. He's a gentle seventy-one year old man who loves his boat and is a career teacher with the University of Utah (now teaching online courses so he can travel the world). Despite his age, he is game to do almost anything on the mountain and sometimes even tires us youngins out! Mom loves skiing with him though, and he is more than happy to ski the gentler runs and let the other instructor take the kids into wilder terrain. So we would like to request a younger, more adventurous instructor to balance out Spike. Sam is not that instructor.

Sam makes Spike look young. She reminds Farley of the kind, old rocks/trolls from the movie Frozen. She has been instructing for quite some time, perhaps since skis were made of wood and helmets weren't a thing. She was not rehired at her last job because she had her knee replaced and was basically deemed a liability, so she came to Deer Valley to work. That was twelve years ago. She was too old to work somewhere over a decade ago! So the long and short of it is that we are skiing with the senior citizens brigade. And before too long we are quickly outpacing our instructors' energy. Ed and I request a challenging black. Sam suggests three blues. We counter with a bowl, she "believes" the bowl is closed. We settle on a blue run.

On the first day of skiing while my comrades needed to have their boots checked, Spike and I went off to ski a black mogul run. After a few turns he stopped to give me direction. He started by saying, "You are almost impossible to teach" so I blush and start feeling really bad about my poor learning skills, when he continues, "Because you already do everything right." Wapow! Insult suddenly turned to compliment! After that I was very willing to take instruction, and have since been working on keeping my weight even during my turns in moguls (which is harder than it seems, I promise).

Practicing some Pee-Your-Pants Skiing

On the second day of skiing, I am craving something more difficult. I think to myself, I want pee-your-pants skiing. I, of course, do not literally want to pee my pants. But that is how I describe a certain level of skiing. I have heard no one else, instructor or lay person, describe it in this manner, so I may be embarrassing myself right now. Let me explain. Pee-Your-Pants skiing is when you are skiing something so difficult that your legs are working so hard that you are no longer cold. Your inner thigh muscles are working fiercely and there is a brief moment when you think, "Oh goodness, I've peed my pants. I'm an adult human who is working so hard on the slopes that I accidentally peed myself." Within moments (that may feel much longer) you realize that your continence is indeed in check, and that your leg muscles are just seriously working. That is the kind of difficulty I am looking for on the slopes. Believe it or not, that is not the level of difficulty that the Senior Citizens Brigade prefers.

On the third day of skiing, the temperature slipped below zero degree, which means that the group's enthusiasm slipped a bit as well. Though we usually do not like to eat lunch at 11:30 in the morning, we were very excited to get indoors and warm up after less than two hours on the mountain. Hot beverages were had by all at the Goldener Hirsch- our favorite German restaurant in Deer Valley (Okay, the only German restaurant in Deer Valley, but it is great nonetheless). The younger generation requested required new accessories before braving the cold again for the afternoon.

We battled the cold for the remainder of the week, and only complained about what seemed like the onset of frostbite once. We missed Mom greatly, and our lunchtime and lift time conversations surely suffered. At the end of the week we left Deer Valley with all bones intact and new memories made!

This post is dedicated to William Edward Farley (1929-2014) who encouraged me to write.