the weekend i busted my butt

Two weeks ago we headed to Sugar Mountain in NC to do some skiing. Or attempted to ski in my case. We dropped the girls off with Michael's parents in TN and made the trek to the mountains. Let's just talk about the mountains. Me, born and raised in flat Florida, doesn't do well in mountains. I learned this as we were heading up the winding one lane road to our condo at the top of the slopes. Snow and ice glimmered off the road as my knuckles turned white from clenching the armrest in the car. Once I was there and my panic and crying attack was over I looked out the window and caught the sun setting on the mountains.

Did I mention the crying? Yeah, there was a lot of it. And I'm not ashamed. It was a little nerve racking. And then I realized it was 6 o'clock and we had to go back down the mountain to get skis and food for the weekend. I didn't know if I would make it. But then my brother-in-law saved my sanity with a little small pill that had me thinking about cake instead of sliding off the side of a mountain. (I still wish I would have had that cake at the little diner we ate at.)
Krista and I took an hour long lesson on Friday morning to learn how not to kill ourselves. After practicing the bunny slope a couple of times and picking up tips from other instructors (because ours sucked butt) we decided to brave the ski lift and try the green slope. We did alright and by the end were masters of our domain.
On Saturday Michael felt Krista and I were pros and that we could graduate to the slightly longer green slope. With the small ounce of confidence I had we headed up the lift.

"We're getting off here, at this stop" Michael tells me.

Huh? How do we get off? Where is the guy to help you off? I don't know what I'm doing. Wait....

So Michael got off. And me? I'm still on the lift, shaking like a leaf as I head further and further up the mountain. I needed another one of those pills. Luckily, Rusty and Krista were in front of me and I could get off on the next one with them. If they weren't there I was riding that thing all the way to the top and back down again. It was only a blue slope. I could do it. Ha! I turned the corner from the lift and about lost it. I saw the steepness of that mountain and knew there was no way I was getting down alive.

I made it - barely. I had a pretty nasty fall that I don't really remember. One minute I am speeding out of control and the next my face is planted in the snow and my butt feels like it got shot by a canon. I was hurt. Not medical hurt, but hurt. And crying. Two people asked if I needed help. I was okay, but needed a minute. It took about 10 for me to get up and get my skis back on. If it weren't for Rusty I'd still be sitting up there.
By Sunday I was able to get off the lift, at the right spot, without falling. And I even braved the blue slope a couple of times. Not the same one I had fallen on. The one seen here that has the flat spot of the right.
Michael and Rusty headed to the top and made their way down the black diamond slopes. Some random stranger took this because there was no way I was going anywhere near the top.
I was perfectly content on the small slopes. And the boys joined us for a couple runs and some pictures. And the view from there wasn't bad either. See?
We had a great weekend spending time together and with Michael's brother and Krista. I drank wine and actually slept through the night. And the girls had a great time with the family. By the end of the weekend the snow and ice were melting and the trip down the mountain was much smoother.
For the record, my butt still hurts.