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devilgrrlCup o' Soup always reminds me of skiing when I was a child. My parents and I would go skiing all morning and my mom always packed chicken Cup o' Soup (which probably was the only kind there was, way back in the day when I was a child.) We always tried to find a table by the window in the front of the lodge. My mom always bought hot cocoa, sometimes a cookie, from the cafeteria and I would, without fail, burn my mouth on something. It's a good memory.
I stopped skiing when I was a teenager because I got cold too quickly. I could never keep my hands or feet warm enough and I was always getting frostbite, no matter how many pairs of socks I wore. I keep thinking that I should go again, sometime, but I probably never will. I don't think my extremities (or my bladder, for that matter) would ever forgive me.
Funny, how a smell can bring all those memories back to you. I can see the inside of the lodge plain as day and it's been more than 10 years since I've set foot inside. I can remember how it smelled, the feel of my boots clunking up and down the stairs to the bathroom, even the tables and chairs. I remember when my father stole a tray so I could slide on one of the little hills just outside. I must 4 or 5. I started skiing at 3, with a rope tied around my waist so I wouldn't get lost. My parents met skiing.
Funny that, now, I hate the winter. I chose to get married in winter, though, and I love the first snows and the holiday season and a lot of other things. Maybe I just hate February. Probably not, but snow does get a lot less fun when you've had at least a month of it already.
Maybe I hate January more.
I stopped skiing when I was a teenager because I got cold too quickly. I could never keep my hands or feet warm enough and I was always getting frostbite, no matter how many pairs of socks I wore. I keep thinking that I should go again, sometime, but I probably never will. I don't think my extremities (or my bladder, for that matter) would ever forgive me.
Funny, how a smell can bring all those memories back to you. I can see the inside of the lodge plain as day and it's been more than 10 years since I've set foot inside. I can remember how it smelled, the feel of my boots clunking up and down the stairs to the bathroom, even the tables and chairs. I remember when my father stole a tray so I could slide on one of the little hills just outside. I must 4 or 5. I started skiing at 3, with a rope tied around my waist so I wouldn't get lost. My parents met skiing.
Funny that, now, I hate the winter. I chose to get married in winter, though, and I love the first snows and the holiday season and a lot of other things. Maybe I just hate February. Probably not, but snow does get a lot less fun when you've had at least a month of it already.
Maybe I hate January more.
