I finally signed the older three up for ski school. For family home evening we went and rented skis. The kids were so excited. Only my oldest daughter gets it, though. Three hours in the cold. What she doesn't get is the other part of it. Three hours in the cold falling down. Oh, yes, I remember skiing as a child. It was quite miserable at times. It was also terrifying to watch my sister, on her first day of ski school, not know she was supposed to get off at midway. Six hours later, I found her. That's how long it took to get off the slope. I am not chuckling right now. That would be rude.
I was nearly 8 years old when my baby sister was born. This was quite fortunate since I was well adept at reading. I was tired of my name. Nancy. So plain. The Sunday comics included a comic strip called Nancy. She hung out with her stupid little boyfriend named Russell, was very boring and cried all the time. Why would parents who love their child name her such a boring name? I assumed they had run out of originality by this point. I was, after all, their third child. There was Mike, then Suzy, after me they had Joey (short for Joanne) and finally Jene Marie. The "j" a soft French slur. It was fitting. We had a French surname. But clearly Jene Marie was their crowning glory. Do I hate for taking all the love from my parents and hogging it for herself? Of course not. She's my sister. She's my baby sister. But if I happen to feel the need to speak to her when she's at work, I always ask for her by using both names; Jene Marie (with the schwa). I don't want her...
I am not chuckling, I am laughing out loud!! Yes, 30+ years later I can laugh about that day. I remember every detail of that 6 hour ordeal. I begged the ski instructor to let me take of my ski's and walk down the mountain. He refused-- he must have gotten paid overtime on this Saturday. I think the normal time to come down the mountain from the top of Sundance is about 10-15 minutes.
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