- I fall a lot.
- I fall into holes a lot.
- I enjoy digging hibernation caves.
- I enjoy digging snow pits.
- I enjoy digging in general.
I've learned a few things about the Tetons, too.
- The French dudes who named the Tetons must have been pretty lonely.
- It's a truly beautiful place, and a fantastic opportunity to meet new people.
- Mountains
Now, for the good part of this post.
Today, my fellow Moose and I were cross-country skiing. I fell a few times, but it was no big deal.
It all (literally) went downhill from there.
There was this really big steep hill we had to go down, and after the really big steep hill there was a river. A bridge went over the river, but it could be conceivably be pretty risky to try to maneuver over that bad boy bridge.
After seeing a few people go down the hill, though, I was pretty confident of my abilities to succeed (and not fall into the river. Actually, not fall at all). It turns out I was quite wrong and overestimated myself a good deal.
I was about halfway down the hill and I was doing great. It was fun and fast and I was steering pretty well. There, at the end, the ground evened out into the bridge over the river. I steered my skis towards the middle of the bridge, took a deep breath, and shouted, "YOLO!"
At exactly that moment, gravity decided to be extra strong, and I faceplanted flat on my face, hence the term 'faceplant.' Perhaps it should be called faceSNOW in my situation, though.
It was strange. After that ill-fated YOLO, every time I said the word, I or someone else would fall. Everyone told me to stop saying YOLO, because it was obviously cursed, but I wouldn't believe it. The more I thought about the consequences, though, the more I began to agree with them. Eventually, I stopped saying YOLO. Good thing, too.
Here are some illustrations of my misadventures (and everyone else's too.)
A beautiful illustration of me before YOLOing
And so on and so forth.
YOLO's cursed.
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