I'm dating again. First time in decades, as I don't count what happened in Thailand in 2002 'dating'. So it's interesting to track the stories one tells to help explain how one arrived at this particular life-juncture. Like my 'Why I don't go skiing' story:

My brother enjoyed cross-country skiing and, as much as I dislike cold and snow, was finally able to convince me to go along with him one Sunday. We climbed up the back of Dodge Ridge (ski resort in the Sierra Nevada mountains, California) and topped out at about 2 pm.

Now, this being the first time I've ever been on skis, the only way I knew how to stop was to fall down in the snow. By 2 pm, standing at the top of Dodge Ridge looking down at all the skiers and a mass of bruises from head to toe, the last thing I wanted was to have to fall one more time to stop.  I sat down, took off my skis, and proceeded to walk down the mountain.

I was approached three separate times by the Ski Patrol, each time I was told to put my skis on, that I wasn't allowed to walk off the hill. But not once did I see a gun on any of the ski patrol members, and so I saw my way clear to disobey authority.

By the time we all assembled at the foot of the ski run and got into our cars to head home, it was dusk. My vehicle at the time was a VW bug. It was in good shape, but the firewall had fallen from the front side of the dashboard, and that created 'flow-through ventilation'...meaning the wind came right through the dash as I drove. With a 5 hour drive back to santa Clara, bruised body, wt clothing and this 65 mph draft, it is one of life's miracles I did not die from hypothermia. As it was, it took me literally, no exaggeration here, 5 minutes just to get out of the car when I pulled into my driveway. I plodded into the house and into the bathroom, began to run hot water in the tub, and sat in it with my clothes on for 30 minutes just to thaw out enough to get to a towel.

Think I want to go skiing again? Not this lifetime, or the next.