Snow is teh evil.*
I’m pretty sure snow has something against me.
Where I grew up, snow was a rare event, and I can count on one hand the number of white Christmases I’ve ever seen. This shows that the snow doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.
The first time I went up a ski hill (with my grade 6 class) we tried cross country skiing and I fell over and sprained my wrist within the first few minutes. Had to run behind everybody else the rest of the way. It made me slip, in all it’s evilness, and then had the audacity to make my housekeys fall out of my jacket pocket, too. Somewhere on the mountain my keys are probably still hidden underneath a tree.
On days when it snowed, I had to walk 5 kilometres to my high school, mostly on the busy highway because the snow was mounted up on the sidewalk/footpath. Uphill both ways. Yes, that’s possible. I’m not exaggerating. I’m sure it was a plot by teh evil* to get me run over by a car.
The second time I went up a ski hill (with my husband – then my fiancé) we tried snowshoeing. I twisted my knee. Not badly, but badly enough that it put an end to the day.
And (probably because it snowed so rarely) I am useless at driving in the snow. I’m sure the snow’s out to get me, and I drive accordingly.
So last Thursday, my most recent ski hill attempt, we went up Mount Ruapehu to show my children snow for the first time in their lives. (How sad is that – Canadian children having to wait until they’re nearly NINE to see snow?) The snow didn’t disappoint. It only took two minutes for the snow to have its vengeance on me – I carefully negotiated down the first snow bank and slipped. WHAM! Majorly twisted knee. Of the electric pain twinge OMG WTF that hurts kind. I just got to sit and watch while my husband tobagganed with the kids. And made a snow man. And I got left behind when they went higher and higher for better snow.
This just reinforces my belief.
And justifies our decision to move to a place where it does not snow. I will not go to a ski hill ever again. Ever.