My husband asks for nothing and spends his days giving. Giving to me, his job, his son, my sons, basically, giving to everyone but himself. One cold, winter’s day, I wanted to give back to him. Knowing he loves to ski (and never gets to) I decided he should have a guilt free day of skiing. We had no plans and no kids.
Knowing he would say no to taking the day to do what he loves (saying he wanted to be with me more) I said I would go with him. Now, I don’t ski, snowboard, sled, or snow shoe, (I don’t really do snow) but I’ve always loved the idea of sitting in the lodge, sipping hot cocoa or enjoying a glass of wine, while reading a book. LOOKING at the snow (I do find it pleasing to the eye) would be nice. I would be warm, in a big comfy chair, while people watching, with my favorite book ready. This was a win-win right? My husband gets to ski and all I have to do is take my book and order my beverage of choice.
My husband agreed.
I donned jeans, a warm sweater, my pink coat with the ruffles along the back (shut up) and…my pink boots. (I love all things pink and when I found these pink UGG boots WITH silky pink bows along the back, I snatched those pretty babies up). I grabbed my kindle (pink covered) and my purse. It’s pink.
Off we went.
When I saw the lodge, it was exactly how I’d envisioned it; log structure, right by the road, surrounded by the snowy mountains. I watched as we drove right on by.
“Why didn’t you stop at the lodge and let me out?” I asked.
“That was the ski rental store. The lodge is up here,” my husband replied.
He pulled into a parking lot. A huge parking lot. With no lodge in sight.
“Where’s the lodge?” I asked, scanning for my warm haven.
“It’s across the lot and down that way,” my husband pointed.
“So, I have to walk a ways?” I asked, looking at my pretty boots.
Realization dawned on my husband as he looked at me closely.
“You probably should have worn your snow boots,” he said, NOW, as we’re sitting in the parking lot.
“I didn’t think about that. I forgot I had them and I assumed the lodge would be right by the parking lot!” I exclaimed.
He needed to put on his snow attire, so I got out to start walking when fear took hold. I looked down at my treacherous terrain, a mix of sludge, snow, ice and misery.
I’m not sure how long it took me to get across the lot. It was at least 5 hours. I thought I was on more solid ground but once I skidded in my slippery soled boots, I realized I was very wrong. I looked up and saw, waaaay off in the distance, the tippy top of the lodge. Once I was done cursing, and apologizing to the family with kids walking by, I began the trek. I was so focused on not falling and breaking my everything, I only partially noticed the looks I was getting from others.
In all my pink glory (and jeans) I managed to make it to the lodge.
“Oh for F&cks sake!” I exclaimed, when I got the lodge and saw it was nestled down a small hill. A hill just big enough to guarantee, that if I tried to navigate down it with my pink boots, my ass would be on the ground. For a moment, I thought (hoped) maybe I was at the wrong place, so I asked someone if this was in fact the lodge.
“Sure is. You’d better get in, you look pretty cold,” said the appropriately dressed man, as he eyed my ruffles and bows.
I couldn’t get in. Each time I started down the hill, my boots slipped and I had to splay my arms and stick my butt backwards to ensure I stayed upright. I looked around. If I could make it all the way AROUND the lodge, to the far back, it looked like the ground was more level there. I walked (ahaha, that’s a lie), I slipped and skidded my way to the back, only having to grab on to one stranger’s arm the whole way (yay me and thank you sir for keeping me upright) and made my way to the front door.
Once inside, I was shocked to see a lunch counter, rows of hardwood tables and bench chairs and NO FIREPLACE! Holding back tears, I walked towards the back and almost let the tears slip out when I saw stairs, leading to what was called the Lounge. I went up and almost ugly cried when I saw a bar. And a fireplace.
I ordered my drink and turned to sit by the fireplace. The couch was full and the chair had a bag on it. I went to sit by the windows, when I saw the area blocked off for an event. I asked the party on the couch if the chair was free and they said no, but moved over so I could sit with them on the couch. All 5 of us. They kindly eyed my attire as they enjoyed what was probably their 1100th beer.
The next 4.37 hours with the strangers passed quickly, as I watched them admirably make their way up to almost 2500 beers. I admired one gentleman, who decided to take off his shirt and just wear his ski pants with their suspenders. He was pretty sweaty after all.
When my husband texted he was outside, I made my way downstairs. Happily, getting UP the hill was much easier than going down and I made my way back to the parking lot from hell and safely into the car.
“Did you have fun?” I asked my husband.
“It was great skiing today,” he said smiling.
His smile, flushed cheeks and the fact that we’d be going to my favorite restaurant for dinner, made the day worth it.
Next time I suggest a ski day for my husband, I think I’ll don my pink boots and coat and head to the spa.
A true win-win day.