I've been skiing nearly my whole life and have never felt comfortable in the bumps. Once I took a fancy class on how to ski moguls from a French guy named Claude. He asked me what I wanted to learn. I said I want to look like Lindsey Vonn. He told me to plant my poles, point my boobs downhill, suck in my stomach, and keep my weight forward. I said, "Don't you mean boots? Point my boots downhill?" "No Madame," he said, making hand gestures to explain, "your boobs. Eez not what you Americans say? Or teats?"
Last week in Vail, I accidentally discovered the secret to skiing moguls like Lindsey Vonn and it had nothing to do with boob points.
Here's the scoop. We skied past a birthday party taking place on a slopeside deck at 11,000 feet. It looked ridiculously fun. A guy named Bob was celebrating his 30th. He wasn't turning 30. It was his 30th year celebrating in Vail. I think he was 87. He and his guests were in formal wear. Tuxedos, ball gowns, and skis. One guy was wearing tails. There were also these random angels in white jumpsuits, white ski boots, and of course, white wings. Like a bunch of Victoria's Secret models.
All of us were green with envy as we skied longingly past. The speakers were blasting "Ladies Night" by Kool and the Gang. It really is one of the most infectious compositions on earth. We couldn't help but bounce and jive while we skied.
Then I hit a stretch of moguls. My loosened knees bounced up and down like pistons. My head bobbed while I sang, "if you hear any noise, it ain't da boys, it's ladies night! ... " and this may be hard to believe, but I looked exactly like Lindsey Vonn. A little shorter. Older... slower... chunkier... more brown. But exactly like Lindsey Vonn.
It was great! I had discovered the secret! To ski moguls, all you need is the right song. And to prove it, the rest of the day was a breeze of singing and bouncing and skiing in loose-jointed glory.
The next morning, on the third run, I was ready to try the moguls again. As I entered the snowy corridor, I hollered over my shoulder to my husband, "What was that song? I need a song!"
Everyone needs a song in their head. But I had lost mine. A moment later, I hit a big fat mogul and lost my balance. In the tumble, I caught a ski, and pop! went my knee.
So now that I'm back home, with a long road to recovery, I find myself staring at this vintage ski doll and the shot glasses shaped like a leg casts with their own handy crate. I used to think this vignette was so cute. Not anymore. They're now on sale in the shop. Click the image for more info. Yup, my loss, your gain.
One last thing before you toddle off to listen to more Kool and the Gang. The internet is like a giant ski resort and you and I are like skiers without cell phone service. How will we stay in touch? Won't you consider subscribing to my blog? I post every Friday. It's usually short and sweet. I'll guard the privacy of your email with my crutches as weapons. Try it for a month and tell me what you think:
And if you don't have to rush off to work, or to drive the kids, here's another amusing ski accident story. This one is about my sister, a deer named Michael, and the Chicago mob.