Something like an Olympian?

We went skiing a couple of weeks ago, and after finishing 4 or 5 green runs (the easiest hills) with my husband and two boys, sister and brother-in-law, we went in for lunch.

Before I proceed, I’d like to point some things out:

1.  My sister is an awesome skier.

2.  My brother-in-law is a smooth riding snowboarder.

3.  My husband and the boys are emerging from the beginner category.

4.  And, I, in the olden days, used to be pretty good.  Now, I just try to copy my sister.

Having said the previous, I’ll move on to the following delusion that overcame me.

Every time I go skiing, I wear the same thing.  Hand-me-downs and gifts that I’ve received over the years.  A purple and white jacket (gift), the warmest ski/boxing gloves ever (hand-me-down), helmet (rental), ski boots (rentals), ski socks (stolen from my husband years ago and now are close to reaching the holes in the heels stage), 15-year-old white and grey wool sweater with two of the original seven buttons (kind of like an old robe you’ll never get rid of), a black thermal shirt (gift) and navy blue, sort of shiny, ski pants (hand-me-down.)

It is the ski pants that caused a stir.



So, it was as I emerged from my bathroom stall after lunch, clomping to the sink in my ski boots (have you EVER done that?  Going to the bathroom while in your ski clothes is quite possibly the WORST thing about the whole outing.), that a thought briefly crossed my mind.

Feeling safe that none of the people in the bathroom had actually seen me ski, and knowing that “USA 2002” was emblazoned across my left thigh, and visible for all in the bathroom to see, I thought slyly…maybe they think I was actually in the Olympics!

WHOA!  Then reality came screaming at me from the mirror.

No, there is actually NO way that ANYONE would think I might have ever skied in the Olympics.

It is possible that they thought I did some successful post Olympic 2002 dumpster diving though.

What’s your opinion?  Be honest.  If you really might have been convinced, even for a brief second, that I was an Olympian, please let me know.  And, if not, it won’t hurt my feelings any more than looking at myself in the mirror did.

–  The Goat Cheese Lady


P.S.  No laughing, please.

About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, and a flock of egg-laying chickens. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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10 Responses to Something like an Olympian?

  1. marianne says:

    you are so darn cute it doesn’t even matter!

  2. The Sister says:

    I’d like for you to tell the story about the other ski pants!

  3. Judy Jones says:

    We have a collection of autographs from famous sports figures.  May we have yours?

    JJ and Jean

  4. Sharon Chapple says:

    I lov ya your my kind of lady ,I think your so funny and you have made my day .must come and meet you .should right a book .have a fun day I ski like you ,wish I had those pants I would walk around showing off.amore cheese lady

  5. Melina Bush says:

    I do WAY too much thrift store shopping to take a logo seriously!

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