January

While the allure of winter sports eludes me, I confess to having a real fondness for sledding. Nothing like grabbing a $5.99 saucer sled, and careening down an icy slope...shrieks of laughter freezing in mid air as the inevitable crash-and-burn happens at the bottom of the sled run.

Not that I've done this recently. I think the last time I actually went sledding was about six years ago. Fun stuff, though I felt a little bit like I was cheating, because they had a snowmobile ready to go, to come fetch those of us who ventured down the hillside.

Part of the great adventure of sledding when I was a kid, was having to haul your sorry, sore patoot back up the hill step by slogging step. Moon boots, puffy ski jacket, snow pants, gloves, itchy knit hat.. it's amazing I could even walk a step in all that confining gear. And boy, was it sweaty in there. No chance of getting too cold. While I might've looked like a Yeti, what with all the snow clinging to every nook and cranny... it was all Bahamas up in my snow suit. I'd yank that itchy hat off and toss it on the nearest snowbank, and let my stringy brown hair fly free.

Endless energy to burn. I wonder what that would feel like now?? I could slide/climb/slide/climb/slide/climb for hours on end, until the light started to fade, and the glow of the lights in our house started to beckon me. Then it was the slow trek back across the empty field, past the neighbor's house and across the road, letting my dog lead the way. It was such a snail's trudge... I never really wanted to go back inside, but snow pants can only hold back the wet snow so long.

Then there was the whole routine of climbing out of all that gear out on the porch. Moon boot liners always pulled out, making the boots look like exhausted dogs with tongues hanging out. And one by one, everything went into the dryer, leaving me standing there in my turtleneck and jeans - feeling about fifty pounds lighter. The warmth of the house drew me in, and the smell of mom's cooking reminded me that I was actually famished. She was a great cook, but of course...being a kid, what's the fun of homemade dinners? I danced in delight if I found out I could have a TV Dinner, with the peel-back foil. Salisbury steak, with corn, and chocolate cake. The thought of it makes me cringe now, but back then... that was a fun feast.

Makes me laugh to think about it all now. I wonder, when was the last time I went sledding on that hill? The last time my German Shepherd went running ahead of me across the snowy field? The last time I shrieked with my best friend down the icy slope? I'm sure it was a fun, exhausting day... enjoyed in a way only complete obliviousness to the finality of it could provide.