Ski Weekend

But life, as it often does, had other plans.

In the days leading up to the trip, a few things happened that completely drained my spirit. I still hoped quietly that whatever was unsettled would somehow resolve itself in our favor. When the day finally arrived, I felt a churn in my stomach that excitement alone couldn’t quiet.

Just before we left, I told Mr. B I needed to quickly handle a business matter. To him, it came out of nowhere. He felt ambushed—and honestly, I get why. Still, we worked through it and headed to the airport… only to miss our flight.

Yes. Missed it.

That moment alone could have derailed the entire trip. Emotions were high, patience was thin, and the atmosphere was touchy in a way only travel stress can create. After waiting for the next available flight, we finally landed in Colorado, greeted by our guests who had all arrived ahead of us.

It was freezing. Bone-cold. All I wanted in that moment was a warm bath and a proper meal.

Our first stop was my sister-in-law’s place to pick up ski gear. She’s truly an angel, because those gears would later save my entire existence on the slopes. From there, we drove to Silverthorne, about an hour and forty-five minutes from Littleton.

The drive was magical.

Even though it was dark, the scenery was breathtaking. Snowflakes gently hit the windshield, and all I could think about were movie scenes about snow soft, powdery, unreal. This was my first real experience with proper snow, the kind that feels like it belongs in a postcard. Mr. B's friend drove, and we talked the entire way, stopped by to have pizza. Somewhere along the road, he realized the house we rented was very close to his previous family home, which stirred memories for him.

We arrived, greeted everyone, exchanged pleasantries, and I quietly COLLECTED  some nerve calmers from Mr. B (it happens 🤭). I showered and went straight to bed. I needed the sleep.

The next day? Completely different energy.

We woke up refreshed and made breakfast together, which is very us. Mr. B loves to serve, it’s his thing, and he cooked a mean chili beef. I absolutely love his chili beef, and yes, he knows that.

We started the day with a hike on the trail, then went to rent ski shoes for the next day. We picked up our passes, had an amazing dinner, shared a few drinks, played in the snow, and soaked in the hot tub before his game started (BRONCOS). We briefly addressed what had happened the day before in the hot tub and consciously chose to move past it.

Then came ski day.

I was beyond excited. Mr. B helped me pick my gear, helped me with my skis, and in that moment I thought, Wow, this is going to be an amazing day.

Reality hit hard when it was time for my lesson.

Those ski gears? HEAVY. Super heavy.

Mr. B doesn’t let me do anything strenuous, so suddenly having to carry all that weight made me feel spoiled… and slightly useless. But listen, Warri no dey carry last. I braced myself, lifted my gear, and dragged it up the hill to the learning spot.

Turns out my ski boots were tighter than they should’ve been. So add pressure from the shoes, weight from the gear, constant falling, and confusion about positioning and exhaustion set in quickly.

Was it fun? Yes.

Was it easy? Absolutely not.

My training group already had some skiing experience, so the instructor focused more on them. Those of us who didn’t even know how to properly put on our shoes or take position were kind of left to figure it out. Still, we pushed through. Mr. B came by with moral support, which meant more to me than he probably knows. He showed us how to use the magic carpet and skied down the bunny hill.

Now listen that bunny hill was high for me. Apparently, real skiers see bunny hills as baby hills. Watching actual babies ski effortlessly was both impressive and humbling. I was a little ashamed, but honestly? It just wasn’t my thing yet.

But I’d go back.

And next time? I’ll whoop Mr. B’s ass on a black hill.

Period.

We visited the ice cream house, took long walks, and headed back home where drama made a brief appearance again. My flight got cancelled, and I spiraled into paranoia.

Mr. B reassured me he could even get a private plane if needed, but airport concerns had me refusing that option entirely. I insisted on fixing it my way, earned a badge of stubbornness, and eventually sorted it out the hard way.

We made it home the next day.

Despite everything, the stress, the missed flight, the exhaustion, the stubborn moments, I was genuinely happy. The ski experience was amazing. Would I do it again?

Hell yes.

Next time though? With the kids.

peace......