I had two of my kids begging me to go skiing. I like to ski, but I am not very good at it. It was late Saturday afternoon, and I really had no reason to say no. We headed off to Buck Hill. My memories of skiing always have a bad start. In third grade, I broke my leg at a very credible ski run. It was quite a hill, as you can imagine, but I did conquer it that day. Untile I fell and broke my leg. What I remember most vividly.......oh, you want to know where I was? The location of the hill is not really that important. Just know that it was impressive. Back to my story. I can recall sitting on a gurney in the hospital. I overheard discussion on how they were going to take off the boot. I'll never forget that. I didn't realize that it was going to hurt that bad. If you ever break your leg, tell the doctor to put you under. You really don't want to go throught this....awake......OUCH! Okay, okay, I'll name the mountain. It was Mount Como in Saint Paul. But it was the big hill.

Well, that's what I always think of whenever I ski. What is it going to feel like when they take off the boot. Even putting the rental boots on, sends chills up my spine. It all ends well. I made it through the night, and yes I fell quite often. The good part is, I'll go back again, and again. I was mocked by the children in attendance. They sprayed snow in my face while I was on the ground (by accident....appararently). I got up, time after time, and I think that I am ready for Mount Como sometime soon.