AND SHE LIVES!!! . . .

C took me snowboarding today.

That should be "enuff said," but I feel some context is necessary.

The last time I skied was in early high school. I wasn't bad, either -- I could manage most intermediate level trails and survived one run down a black diamond trail at Killington (don't ask me which one because I have effectively blocked it out of my memory). But my last ski event ever saw me hitting a patch of ice, skidding horribly off the trail, being launched through the air and the tops of small trees, and landing flat on my back on the top of a sawed-off tree stump. I had lost both skiis, a boot, both poles and a glove. I opened my eyes, saw the sky and the tree branches above me twirl and swirl, and thought -- much like Dory in "Finding Nemo" -- "Am I dead?" I was not dead, but I was severely bruised and I knew that I had narrowly escaped serious injury. How I landed so hard and flat on my spine and didn't break it is a miraculous mystery I ponder to this day.

Needless to say, I gave up winter sports after that. But even an unreasonably stubborn bitch like me can give in when bullied enough, and if there's anything C is particularly good at, it's bullying. So in an effort to shut him up, I agreed to be his snowboarding minion today.

My first boarding experience was much like my first experience mountain biking: I'm not particularly good at boarding yet, but I'm not totally horrible at it either. My form isn't great -- I stick out my butt too much to try to overcompensate -- but it's not too ugly. I can't get off a ski lift without some major assistance, but at the end of the day, I felt pretty comfortable with a snowboard latched onto my left foot. Riding regular, I can't successfully complete a toeside turn to save my life, but I can manage a heelside turn just fine AND keep skidding down the hill on my heels. I can't ride goofy at all. My first major wipeout, I propellered my board, just like they told me to in C's dorky little snowboarding book, and C had a good laugh. My second major wipeout, I landed hard on my butt -- thank goodness for C's hockey pants, which while effectively blocking the sun from hitting Earth, also prevented me from injuring my tailbone -- and saw stars. It took me a few moments to shake my head clear and get rid of the ringing in my ears, but it wasn't that hard to get back up again. I didn't even whine today, as I had threatened C I would do if he was mean to me. He wasn't mean to me, and because I was having too much fun, no whining was necessary. I only got tired after about 2 1/2 hours, when the board started to get really heavy, and I couldn't even flip myself over anymore. In any event, boarding is waaaay easier than skiing, and eventually, I'll look cool doing it. Or at least not stick out my butt too much. I made C promise to take me at least one more time before introducing my Betty-fied self to the public. And I'm going to perfect that toeside turn if I have to propeller a gazillion more times in the process!

So another lesson learned: if C says it's going to be fun, and it's not illegal, then it probably will be fun and I'll most likely enjoy myself. He says golfing is next, but the very thought puts me to sleep. I'd rather learn to sail, despite my deathly fear of deep water.

Speaking of sleep ... my body is only slightly loose from a hot bath (my first bath in, like 12 years!), so I'm going to pop some super-strength Motrin, grab a fluffy blanket, and lie in front of the premiere of the new season of "American Idol." After an hour of that, it's really a coin-toss as to whether or not I'll be able to crawl to my bedroom so I can dream about ski lifts and perfect boarding days ...