So, Skiing...

My first ski trip had its ups & downs.

Highlights were Saturday AM ski lessons with a cute instructor and a fellow student my age (since there was a good chance I would have been paired with a 3-year old based ability), hot chocolate and gluhwein, and Fuzzy Duck (more on that later).

Lowlights were having my skiis stolen after the aforementioned Saturday lesson (I now own a set of 1 year old skiis currently being used/sold by someone in the greater Slovakia area), and a mini freak-out when attempting to ski down a mountain on Sunday. And by mountain, I mean a gently sloping hill. Or a plateau with a slight incline.

I pretty much looked like Tiny Tim all weekend.


Susan on the other hand looked great despite protesting she was not a good skier.


Never having been skiing before, I didn't realize skiing in Europe merely is a means to travel from one bar/pub to another on the slopes.


The Igloo held a dance party on Saturday night where two of the three top contestants had to be 55+. The victor Olga may or may not have used her winnings for a hip replacement.


Tim & Co. introduced Susan and me to Fuzzy Duck, a drinking game which gets expotentially more complicated when played inebriated.


Susan drew a "Crazy Duck" and was tasked with lying facedown on bar while calling whale noises to Dave, who was somersaulting down the hall.


Reason #157 Why I Love Sus - She did it.


I am sure this describes your last skiing experience also.