In the early 70’s when I was about 13 I had my first skiing experience. My mom had some antique skis that were just perfect for my introduction to the sport. My dad drove us to Twin Sisters Hill in Rockford where we loved to go sledding. They had a “high tech” ski rope where you grab on and are pulled by a rickety pulley to the top of the hill. I had no instruction but I knew that I could do it. How hard could it be? I made it to the top of the hill using the rope, gave myself a push with the ski poles and down the hill I went. What I did not know how to do was stop. About half way down the hill, the reality of my lack of experience and instruction slapped me in the face and I started to tumble. If I were a cartoon character I would have been pictured as a huge snowball with skis sticking out. But – since this was real life and not a cartoon, I was just “Mary in a Heap” at the bottom of the hill. As you can imagine, this discouraged me from attempting to ski again.
In the 90’s my husband and kids discovered skiing and they LOVED it. Not just the Twin Sisters Hill type skiing - they headed to the mountains for some REAL skiing. On one occasion they decided that it would be fun to take a family ski trip to Keystone Colorado. I bought a ski suit and optimistically decided that I would give it a try. We hired a ski instructor for me and as I headed up the bunny hill on the ski lift, I had a flashback of my experience on Twin Sisters Hill when I was 13. When I “jumped off” the lift I was once again “Mary in a Heap” - but this time I was at the top of the hill and knew that somehow I needed to get to the bottom of the hill. I panicked and “discussed” my apprehension with my ski instructor. (Actually I told him in no uncertain terms to just teach the kids, that I would crawl down the hill on my own and that I didn't expect to be reimbursed for dropping out of class.) He insisted that I ski down the hill just one time. I finally agreed and slowly made my way to safety. When I reached the bottom of the hill I said a prayer of thanksgiving for sparing my life and raised my arms in a victory stance. Terry decided to videotape my experience for posterity. When I watched the tape, I noticed that my ski instructor was actually pulling me down the hill by hanging on to the sleeve of my new jacket as we made our way down the hill in tandem. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t ski “solo”, but in reality, I THOUGHT I was skiing on my own and if I hadn’t been towed down the hill I would probably STILL be standing on the top of the hill.
This brings me to this week. We’re spending the week in Park City Utah on a ski trip. But things are a little different nowadays. I don’t bring a ski suit – I bring a sewing machine. One day is spent planning my project. The next day is spent shopping for the fabric and the next two days are spent sewing. My family always feels sorry for me when I spend the ski trip by myself sewing. They always offer to take me with them. They say they’ll ski slowly and that they’ll take the easy hills. I always decline their kind offers. What they don’t realize is that each of us has our own kind of fun and I have a GREAT time. Their fun involves wearing skis, trying to jump off a ski lift without falling under it, cold and snowy weather, claustrophobic helmets and the ever present medical danger resulting from a major fall. My fun involves beautiful fabric, a great sewing machine, patterns, rotary cutters, cutting mats and rulers and a finished quilt in the end. I usually work on a new Project Linus quilt pattern. It’s such a pleasure to sew with purpose and it warms my heart as well as my soul when I look at what I’ve accomplished. How could I pass up such fun? So – to ski or not to ski – that really isn't even a question for me. Hands down – I choose not to ski. I just couldn’t give up a week of fun behind a sewing machine.
I hope you’re able to take some time this week to work on something that brings you joy. Maybe a Project Linus blanket???
Happy Blanketmaking,
Mary
