A Nine Point Landing

While visiting Betty and her husband we went skiing. It's been a number of years since the Cleaver clan has been skiing, so naturally I was a bit apprehensive. After a few snow plows and a bit of shushing there was nothing to do but get on that lift and go for it. Betty and her husband were the first ones up, followed by the Beave and Wally with Ward and I bringing up the rear. It was a gorgeous sunny, snowy day and a long lift ride. Nearing the top I begin to fiddle with my poles and soon we're at the drop off point . . . only I'm still fiddling with my poles. You really don't get a sense of panic at this point because the lift ride is really very slow moving . . . but you still need to make your exit! Ward has glided off and I'm still fiddling with my poles and I look up to note, uh oh, I'm on my way back . . . so I make a hasty decision to jump!

Oh yeah, so this is what it feels like to be an Olympic ski jumper!! Well, not really, but I ace the landing (meaning I don't fall and wipe out) and nobody from my party even notices, which would have saved me a lot of embarrassment . . . if only the guy operating the ski lift hadn't stuck his head out of the shack and yelled, "Great landing, I give you a nine point o!" Ha, that should have been at least a 9.6 (hey I so STUCK that landing)!