winter in vermont

Years ago, my sister posted this Buzzfeed article to my Facebook wall. She read it out loud to my mom this past Christmas Eve; at which time I confirmed that their explanation of 28 may actually be true: Whew—28 is the best year of your twenties. Not because of the spectacular partying (see: 22) or because you’ll magically have everything figured out (see: never), but because 28 is the year when you’re finally able to accept that no one actually “feels” like a grown-up and it’s OK that you don’t either. This is also the year I've been able to appreciate the past decade of experiences (see: blog archives), and marvel at how each one will always be mine.

And let's not forget that time's not up yet! Yesterday, for instance, I went skiing for the first time ever. How can that be, you winter sports enthusiasts may ask? Well, my parents sought sun-and-sand vacations, and I don't find laborious hobby-prep all that appealing (—I have been snowboarding thrice). But, Deanna fell in love with skiing last winter and my aunt (who made the introductions) gifted her last-minute lift vouchers to a private mountain with a December 31st expiration date. Enter, a two-day sister-ski trip to Vermont...

Although we both signed up for lessons upon arriving, my day one was pitiful. I just wouldn't recommend learning to ski at 28 (versus, say, 8)—skis are awkward, slopes are steep, and adults are inherently too aware of risk. My saving grace was Nancy's patient humor and good balance (namaste). Dare I say day two was better though! Nancy coached me once more and I managed to link wedge turns, etc. and it was fun. My sister was so proud, ha. We're that much closer to fulfilling her ski-chalet-NYE dream.

Hopefully I can hit the slopes in 2017. For now, I'm grateful for our charming one-on-one time: in addition to skiing, we dined and heart-to-hearted at Cask & Kiln, bnb-ed at Shearer Hill Farm, and road tripped with ESM sandwiches. Learning and cherishing, best.