Poker

I've been collecting pop tabs for almost four years now. I send them in batches of about six pounds to the Ronald McDonald House in Providence, RI. Right now my Timbuk2 bag is swimming with them.

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Saturday morning I had a class of five level three five-year-old boys. All boys. I was super anxious initially, but they turned out to be angels - good skiers with great attitudes who behaved, didn't complain and seemed to have a lot of fun. They stayed in my tracks, didn't argue about the line (everyone argues about the line!), kept their clothes/helmets/goggles on and even carried their skis. When they fell over, they could get up without help, and they even put their skis on and took them off without me. I was so pleased, and frankly a little shocked. One of them made me a valentine (a little construction paper heart with my name on it), and another cried when I tried to switch him into another class ("But Kelsey, I wanna ski with YOU!!"). I got $100 in tips from their parents, too. It was an awesome day.
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Our trip to Steamboat last week was a riot. There were 11 of us - myself and four Aussie girls in my car, DR and his people in his car, RS & AB in JF's Outback - and it was the perfect group. Our sleeping quarters were a little cramped, but it made me that much more happy at 8am when I threw open the curtains of our Comfort Inn room and started singing at everyone to get out of bed. It was a freakin' powder day! Steamboat had probably 20 fresh inches (RS, DR, DW, JB, JF and I skied Morningside Park the first half of the day and nabbed face shots with every turn) and nothing felt skied off all day. Our drive home was the funniest part; I think I'll let the picture tell the story:
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Moving on. Today at work, my boss JM bought me lunch at Cafe Suzanne. It was delightfully special; we were both super busy & couldn't ski down to the Treehouse for our free lunch, so instead we sat and chatted about our families and ski bumming and little kids and snow. Then at the end of the day, I found a fox den in the MIDDLE OF A RUN!!! That poor little mother fox is going to have the shock of her life when she births a litter of kits (right?) in mid-March and has to compete with hundreds of beginner skiers for space on the snow...
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I've gotten to make a real dinner two nights in a row - first last night at JG's house as I babysat his kids, and then tonight, when I showed up pre-poker at the CK-AL-JF household with food for all of us. (Mom, I made the ravioli/sausage/tomato thing, and I broiled some broccoli to go with it. This kitchen is even more fun to cook in than yours!) I desperately miss cooking, so it's been fun to craft some solid meals for more than just myself.
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My buddy JF is pretty swell. He wants you to know that his name is Jared Friday (as in, he's my first friend to give permission to use his actual name and not just his initials - "of course, until I do something stupid, and then you have to take it off," he says). He's standing over my shoulder as I type this.
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I have a gnarly craving for some Walrus swiss dark chocolate ice cream.
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This morning up at Elk Camp, a bajillion instructors were standing outside in a meeting - a whole mass of red jackets nodding politely as TH gave them instructions - and another instructor said as an aside to me, "Our Father, who art in heaven..." and we both giggled. (He was implying that the group looked, from our vantage point, like they were taking communion.) I started saying the rest of it; the instructor paused, then joined me as we finished the Lord's Prayer in its simple entirety looking out at the snow. It really choked me up.
Lately I've been reflecting about the lack of real church in my life here. I've been to a couple of services in the three-ish months I've lived here, and nothing has stuck. That's not to say I've cut God out of my life; I frequently find myself saying small thank you prayers for my friends, good snow, CC's thoughtfulness, waking up before my alarm, a hot shower, a kitchen, well-behaved kids, etc. I spend many gondola rides meditating. The punchline is that contrary to what many people think (myself included), the absence of a weekly church service hasn't left a void in my life. I haven't missed it, per se. It's not like I'm living in sin, but given the planned trajectory of my life (seminary in a couple of years) I had expected to feel some loss. I think this morning it kind of hit me like a truck, and I think I might come home this summer just to go back to Spirit of Joy again every Sunday.
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My mom joined a Facebook group called, "I bet I can find a million people who don't care that Michael Phelps smoked weed." I have a righteous mother.
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I played with THREE yellow labs yesterday, including a puppy. Life is grand.