Skiiiing. That’s fun to write. Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. It actually sounds like little kids tearing straight down the hill, the way they do on skis. If they fall, they don’t have to worry about breaking anything. They just bounce.

On Saturday I took some of our heaps of extra money and invested it in Memories for the Kids at the local ski hill. When we lived in town (and were much wealthier*) we would go two or three times a year, but now that we’re out in the sticks and poor, once a year will have to do. Left to right is Emma-who-doesn’t-like-having-her-picture-taken, Abby, Katie, and Becca.

Skiing is one of the few “fun things” we do that actually costs money. Sledding, hiking, swimming, camping, stacking firewood—all these amusements can be done pretty much for free. But it’s a pain trying to downhill ski in a place without an actual ski lift. (Yes, there’s always cross country skiing. Haven’t done that one yet.) We think it’s worth it.

This was Abby’s first time skiing, and she was actually pretty good. Her first time down the bunny hill was tough, but it always is. The older ones were generally in tears by the time they arrived at the bottom of the hill, and the ski lift was a new trauma. We always left a ski or a pole or an arm behind to be carried up by the next charitable soul to come up behind us. But Abby was a good sport, and took four trips down the hill by the end of the night .She got to where she could stop pretty well, either by making a “pizza” with her skis or by just falling down, and she now proclaims skiing to be her favorite sport.

This is good. She’ll be ready for next year.

* Meaning we didn’t budget