Look at me! Making a comeback! I know this blog has been silent for awhile and I decided (finally) it was time for a resurrection. Consider this that resurrection.
Since last we talked, we've been busy. Of course. We're always busy. But this kind of busy has been a heavy concentration of family mountain time and it makes me oh so happy.
We have been on the mountain every weekend that we have been in Oregon and consequently, the Hizz has been on skis EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND since December. I wonder how many other 3-year-olds can say that? Not many I'm guessing, since it's pretty difficult to find her some shred buddies.
(hey you! Yeah, you. Do you have a 3-year-old who loves to shred? Can said 3-year-old rip it up on the mountain? Please, please call me. Please.)
Also consequently, I seem to have spent an exponential amount of time on the magic carpet, the rope tow, and the bunny hill chairlift compared to the black diamonds I prefer to frequent.
It has been nothing short of magic, this cultivating a skier thing. Watching my child giggle in silly joy as she takes off before I can even put my own skis on- damn telemarks!- is exactly what I want to happen, despite my admonishments to her to "please wait for me". The moment when she conquered her fears and finally let go of that ski pole to ski down the chair lift line on her own? I couldn't stop screaming, not just because she was skiing, but because I know that fear. It's the same fear I have when I look down an impossibly steep face for the first time or I line up with the other chicks for a fast criterium race. In a life well lived, that fear never abates because you are consistently testing your own limits.
This kid may not ever ski past the age of rebellion (at which point she will have to find her own ride to the mall because please. I am busy skiing.) but she will always have this: Fear. And taking the first step past it. And then the silly joy giggles that accompany such a triumph.
There has definitely been some fear in the Barker life lately. Nothing dramatic or earth-shaking, but just enough for us to pucker a little bit and question, "what if?" We've been talking a lot about our ultimate dreams. You know, those dreams that would come true if the world was perfect? Here are some of mine:
1. Live in a small mountain town with walking access to the ski lifts.
2. Be a pro cyclist.
3. Visit the Caribbean every year.
4. Retire and join the Peace Corps.
5. Teach half-time, spend the other half of the day evaluating student work and creatively planning, and get paid for full-time.
6. Spend my summers in Spain.
7. Own a motorhome. Live in it and drive around the world. (true story. I LOVE motorhomes!)
8. Rock climb 5.12c.
(Please note: I said if the world was PERFECT.)
And the list goes on and on. And on. Ask me tomorrow. I'll add 8 more. Number one on this list has definitely been on Barkernews' and I's mind and our agenda. Finding the right jobs that provide for fulfillment of that dream and still fund our daughter's college education has been the difficult part. We've had some opportunities that could take us to somewhere "like" a small mountain town, but not exactly what we're dreaming of. The question is: Is it worth waiting for the perfect place?
And the list goes on and on. And on. Ask me tomorrow. I'll add 8 more. Number one on this list has definitely been on Barkernews' and I's mind and our agenda. Finding the right jobs that provide for fulfillment of that dream and still fund our daughter's college education has been the difficult part. We've had some opportunities that could take us to somewhere "like" a small mountain town, but not exactly what we're dreaming of. The question is: Is it worth waiting for the perfect place?
And therein lies the fear, right? We now have a kid and we own a house and we have good jobs and great friends and great community here in Portland. There's not a lot to complain about. Except the rain. I HATE the rain. But otherwise, we can't complain.
So, yeah. Looking down that impossibly steep face is hard. Pointing your skis downhill for the first turn is even harder. Hazel knows. She's got the huge grin to prove it.
