My husband and I both have birthdays in March. We usually celebrate by going out for a nice steak dinner or, sometimes, a ski getaway. A few years ago, for a milestone birthday, we spent a week in Aspen and it was utterly amazing. We had the best “Spring in the Rockies” experience: bluebird ski days without a lot of crowds followed by slopeside après ski and champagne chilled in the snow (worth noting, this was pre-kids!).
One of our favorite adventures that week was cross-country skiing through the woods to a remote log cabin restaurant with beautiful mountain views. We set off in the late morning, hoping to get to the restaurant for lunch. We glided along at first, taking in the views and debating whether to order Hot Toddies or Bloody Mary’s once we got there. Soon, we approached a series of small hills. Since it was springtime, the trails would get slushy by day but iced up overnight so these “small hills” were slick. Naturally, I sent my husband down first. It only took a few seconds for him to crash land, butt-first into a tree. I obviously laughed…a lot. Unfortunately, my attempt wasn’t any smoother and I careened smack into him, landing hard on my tush as well. We each fell about five more times after that but, eventually, made it to the restaurant and thoroughly enjoyed a delicious meal (with a few adult beverages) in front of a fire.
This year, I know our birthdays will again be quieter than normal so, mentally, this memory is where we’ll be: sipping Bloody Mary’s, looking out over the Rockies, icing our very bruised butts.
Until next time,