Blair has decided to take me skiing.
I don't know what, specifically, I did to anger him but I've spent time apologizing profusely for any and all perceived hurts, slights, insults, or injuries. It hasn't fazed him. He appears determined to get me up on skis.
The interesting part is that neither of us have ever skied before, in our lives. We tried to go once, years ago, but I hurt my back the week before our trip so we ended up sticking to snow tubing that week.
SIDE NOTE: That trip resulted in our all-time favorite home video. Blair stayed at the bottom of the tubing slope so he could film me coming down. As I made my way up to the top I'd stop so we could wave to each other and he could keep sight of me. Once at the top, I raised my arms over my head and waved and then shoved off.
Blair is at the bottom filming me and, as you watch the video, he's doing a perfect imitation of a sports caster: "Oh, she's got a BEAUTIFUL run going here this morning. It looks like the turn may give her trouble but... no, no, she stayed on! What a recovery, folks! She's picking up speed now, getting ready for the home stretch..."
So he's going on and on and I'm on the inner tube, getting bigger in the picture as I come down the slope until you see the tube slide into the stop gate and Blair's narrating, "Let's go get a few words from our champion," and he zooms the camera in on the woman who's progress he's followed all the way down the slope and... it's not me.
Some strange woman's face fills the frame and RIGHT as you hear Blair mutter, "Oh no," I slide in on my tube behind the woman, jump up because I see him standing there with the camera and ask excitedly, "Did you get it??"
Classic Harris video.
Blair has us signed up for private lessons, first thing. Our instructor's name is "Ralph."
"That actually makes me feel better," I said last night.
"If Ralph's not available, they said we'd have Tim," said Blair.
"Unacceptable," I announced. "Ralph is the man. If Ralph can't teach us to ski, then no one shall. I hereby decree my loyalty to Ralph."
I'm thinking of paying someone to follow us around with a camera. Neither Blair nor I are highly coordinated as individuals and together we often resemble a Three Stooges act performed on tightrope. Still, one of the comforts of marriage is being wiling to look like a complete ass in front of your spouse while a ski instructor named "Ralph" pulls your head out of the snow and explains what you did wrong on this, your 58th attempt to master the bunny slope.
I see some entertaining blog posts in the near future. The emergency room visit post alone will probably take up two days. ;)