Back in the industrial age, the weekend was created to give workers two days of rest, rather than the standard one day. I am quite convinced that the Barker family is not following the intent of the weekend because it's Sunday night and I am sitting on the couch with sore legs and contemplating how early is too early to go to bed.
I started the weekend off right: rock climbing with Ky at the gym, followed by drinks and dinner. Ky is quickly turning in to one of my favorite people and here's why: she tells you exactly what she thinks. She doesn't like boring people. She's funny. And she's not afraid to try anything. Our climbing girl-dates are often my favorite part of the week.
Until Saturday. Because when Saturday comes around and it's January, it can only mean one thing: SKIING, and skiing hard. Screw riding your bike. Screw sitting on your couch and watching tv. It's time to ski, especially if it's a bluebird powder day.
Barkernews' expression tells all, especially after skiing some sweet snow in A-zone.
The groomed cat track winds through the avalanche debris from the previous week. SO. COOL.
Because we used ski area daycare the previous week, we sucked it up and traded shifts with The Hizzle. Yes, I would have loved to have ripped my legs off for the whole day, but c'mon. I got to hang out with this character, who is turning in to quite the entertainer. We also made sure to get her deserved snow time in too. She spent a large amount of time being pulled around on her sled or on her own skis, learning to stand up and move forward (supported by Mom or Dad, of course).
We all drove home, exhausted beyond belief, to shovel some food in to our mouths, throw ourselves in to bed, and set the alarm for an early wake up time for Sunday. It was time to ski patrol, save lives, and spend time with fun people. Or something like that. For the first time this season, the weather forecast was actually accurate and it snowed. A LOT. The turns in Upper Bowl just got better and better and better...until I had to leave at noon and switch with Barkernews who had taken toddler duty for the morning (by skinning up Glade trail and skiing down with Haze. On his back. The guy's a badass.).
We switched off. He patrolled and partook in one of the best powder days this season. I threw Hizz on my back and took her snowshoeing with the Stiles. It was beautiful. The trail was covered in fresh snow and we were some of the few who were actually out there. The Hizz, though, I am sorry to say, is not getting any lighter. I am really tired and sore this evening.
Which brings me back to the original topic in this post. I think that we would be a healthier, happier nation if we worked 4 days per week and skied (oh, I mean, RESTED) for three days. Because I can thrash my legs in two days and I still need another day to recover so I can be the best I can be at work.
That's my theory at least. See you next weekend.
