A little storm moved through the Wasatch Front Friday night and most of the day Saturday, clearing out the slight inversion and dropping a bit of snow in the mountains: Alta claimed nine new inches. H skied in the storm on Saturday and reported back that those nine inches didn't really amount to much. It wasn't enough to open up much new terrain, everything was all tracked out after two hours and it was all skied off back down to the rock-solid ice after three hours. He told me that I didn't miss much.
Why did I miss the skiing? Only for the most pathetic reason ever. On Friday night, I stopped by the grocery store on my way home from work. As I left the store, pushing my grocery cart, the cart's front wheels got stuck in a divot in the asphalt. The cart stopped short, almost tipping over; I did not stop short and walked right into it, shins first. By the time I got back to the house five minutes later, bruises had bloomed on both shins, you could see the bumps and I actually had gashed my right shin through my jeans, to the point of drawing blood, right where my ski boot buckles. Pa. Thetic. But also pretty sore, which is why I didn't ski on Saturday.
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You go to the bar after you try to go shopping. Rookie mistake.
ReplyDeleteHA! But, in all actuality, I didn't go to the bar at all this weekend (shocking). We did go out to dinner to a new place ... but that's getting its own post.
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