Lauren's POV
I am suddenly awaken from my slumber as I hear my mother's loud voice yell my name.
"LAUREN MICHELLE, GET UP. YOU HAVE TO BE AT THE RESORT IN LESS THAN AN HOUR. I AM NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN."
Hearing the word resort is enough to remind me of my inevitable fate of annoying children on skis. As much as my body wants to stay cuddled in the warmth of my bed, I realize that I should probably get my ass up. If I stay any longer, I will be faced with the wrath that is my mother. As I slide out from under my bundle of warmth, I glance over at the clock. Being up at six thirty five on my first day of Christmas break is way to damn early.
Camila's POV
"SOFI, IT IS SIX THIRTY FIVE. PLEASE GO BACK TO BED."
"But Mila, the sky's awake,
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It's just you happen to be a tad bit on the clumsy side. Just give it chance. You never know what's going to happen."
Lauren's POV
"Just give it chance, Laur. You never know what's going to happen." my mom explains for third time since I have arrived in the kitchen moments ago. I make my way to the large pantry and grab the box of my favorite cereal. I stare at the items confined within the pantry for a few a seconds before swiftly turning around to grab a bowl.
"Actually I do know what's going to happen. There will be a kid that is going to suck at skiing. When he stands up, he is going to lose his balance and fall down. When he falls down, he is going to cry that he wants his mommy and because you provided me with this lovely job, I am going to have to deal with it. However, whiny kids are the least of my worries. There's the kids that act snotty and then's there the kids with actual snot coming out of their nose."
I grabbed a small bowl from the top shelf and walked to the refrigerator to receive some milk before continuing my thought.
"All I am trying to say is today is going to suck. No matter how many children I come in contact with, I am not going to be this revived person you want me to
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Sofi and I have been trekking up the large hill of snow from the lodge to rental building for the last 20 minutes.
Every so often, Sofi would find new excitement with the snow and make the journey even longer. She would fall down on her little hands and knees and make balls of snow to throw at my back. If she wasn't making snowballs, then she was making snow angels. I would have found the site endearing if it wasn't so damn cold.
After the creation of five more snow angels, we finally make it to the rental building. Escaping the cold, we rush inside to gather the supplies needed for our skiing lessons. Receiving the necessities and the directions for our ski lessons, we exit the building. After wandering around for bit, we find our destination surrounded with clusters of children and adults alike. At first, I thought all of these adults were here dropping of their children; however, after moments passed and a handful of adults held still, I realized that they were in the same boat as I. Apparently not knowing how to ski at 14+ is a common thing as Sofi and I were split into two different groups. I watched from afar as the brown eyed girl skipped happily towards the children's
Which leads into my third and final premise, changing the date will be a large step towards reconciliation and act as a demonstration that we have aspirations to make our country better. Many people claim that changing the date will not change history. Of course they’re right because nothing can change history. If we were capable of doing so, I’d like to think we would have done it already. Changing the date of Australia Day will not reverse the suffering that the original custodians of this land were subjected to. Nor will it abolish the iron fist of racism that Australia seems to be gripped by.
At 6pm on a Saturday evening, Sally and her parents were on their way to go skiing for their 20th time. The whole family was extremely excited and looking forward to this, especially since the place was somewhere they’d never been to before. As they were in the car, Sally was daydreaming about what the place would look like, and wondered if her worst fear would be there: ski lifts. Everything about this scared her. The car is out in the open, has no roof, and the ride could malfunction at any time. Since this unanswered question was on her mind now, she decided to ask her parents to see if they knew. “I’m just wondering, do either of you know if there are going to be ski lifts at the place?” Both of her parents paused in confusion but didn’t
It’s fall everyone and Halloween is coming.I would like to tell you that fall is the best season of all.
The ground moved farther away from me as I went higher up. I nervously swung my legs back and forth and placed my ski poles next to me. When I looked down, everyone looked like itsy-bitsy specks in the vast, white snow. Whoa…, I thought to myself, the sight made me feel disoriented. As I went up the lift shuddered, shook, and occasionally swung side to side which made me feel jitterish. I couldn’t believe I was doing this though, but there was no going back now. After a few minutes, or what felt like hours, I could see the end of the ski lift coming closer. I prepared myself by getting ready to stand up by grabbing my poles and tensing my legs. There was a bright red line printed on the snow a few feet ahead and when I reached the line, I quickly stood up and got off. “Phew, at least half the journey’s done”, I thought to
I approach the rugged mountain, shielding my body from the nasty frost nipping at my exposed skin. The sun ever so lightly peeks over the horizon as I strap on my skis, lightly dusted with a thin layer of fresh snow. Although my body shivers unceasingly, I feel comforted by the surges of adrenaline pumping through my body. I skate briskly toward the ski lift to secure my place as the first person in line. On the slippery leather seats of the lift my mind races, contemplating the many combinations of runs I can chain together before I reach the bottom of the hill. I arrive at the peak of the mountain and begin building up speed. Floating on the soft snow, weaving through the trees and soaring over rocks, I feel as if I am flying. The rush of adrenaline excites me. I feed on it. I thrive on it. I am ski; I live for speed; I am an evolving technique and I hold a firm edge.
He fig-ured that the normal half hour walk home might take as long as two hours in snow this deep. And then there was the wind and the cold to contend with. The wind was blowing across the river and up over the embankment making the snow it carried colder and wetter than the snow blanketing the ground. He would have to use every skill he’d learned, living in these hills, to complete the journey without getting lost, freezing to death, or at the very least ending up with a severe case of frostbite be-fore he made it back to Ruby.
Snow sprayed the windows with a layer of ice so thin, it appeared like glass. The weather brought frigid cold that chilled to the bone. My friends and I sat inside staying as close to the fireplace as possible. As the evening went on, we all got restless, wanting to go into the cold of the night. So, the three of us bundled up in many layers and waddled outside, looking like penguins, in the bitter cold.
It was similar to the suburban street I grew up on, but in lieu of cookie-cutter houses with stale Bermuda grass, there stood wood cabins with yards covered in snow. The reddish-orange light emanating from the towering street lights pierced through a white fog and gently illuminated the area. Exiting the car, I was overwhelmed with a flurry of new sensations. The gently falling snow absorbed all of the sounds I was used to hearing in a residential area.The low hum of passing cars, birds singing from the trees, and the sound of blowing wind appeared to be muffled, even silenced, by the steady falling snow. I felt enveloped in a cool, but somehow familiar blanket. The smell of burning wood was coming from every direction, as each house I looked at had a thin, grayish plume rising gently from the chimney. The plumes represented the warmth and comfort of the many people I imagined to be nestled by the fire. Looking down the street, I noticed how freshly plowed it was. A thin layer of snow and ice-- like icing on a cupcake, or the glass top on my parent’s nightstand-- covered the street. But on the side of the street sat a pile of snow that could have swallowed me alive. Feeling taunted, I stood there and weighed my options. Chest deep mounds of frozen crystals begged me to dive in and lose myself. Preparing to succumb to the temptations before me, I was momentarily hindered by the fear of my parent’s wrath. But had that ever stopped me
Let me tell you a tale of three unique snowflakes. It started like this… I was created by a woman named Elsa. She made me into a snowman named Olaf. There I meet two snowflakes named Alyssa and Haleyanna, but most snowflakes just called her Haley. Two elderly snowflakes named Christian and Mitchel said that evil snow was terrorizing a dimension that nobody knew how to get to!
A few winters ago, some friends invited my family and me to go snow skiing at Paoli Peaks, Indiana. I did not know how to snow ski, and I leaped at the thought of trying this new sport. On the first morning we entered the pro shop to rent all the gear and make decisions about whether or not to take lessons or go it alone. We decided to be adventurous and go it alone—no lessons. Kent and Celeste, the friends who invited us, knew how to ski and snowboard. He assured us that he could show us the basics, and we would be on our way down the slopes. All of us, after a few minutes learning how to wedge our skis started down the family trail. Although the family trail had smaller hills and appeared safe, to me it seemed way
I stepped out of the chilly November air and into the warmth of my home. The first snowfall of the year had hit early in the morning, and the soft, powdery snow provided entertainment for hours. As I laid my furry mittens and warm hat on the bench to dry, I was immediately greeted with the rich scent of sweet apple pie, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and the twenty-pound turkey my mother was preparing for our Thanksgiving feast.
The biggest festival of the year, a day dedicated to religion and reverence, a reason to rejoice for the young and the old, Christmas, is not just confined to cakes, trees and gifts. Since the incredible aura and significance of the occasion are one of their kinds, it should be celebrated in an exceptional manner. But what could be more wonderful merriment than going out for Christmas vacation! Celebrating Christmas vacations away from home is not all about giving a different dimension to your merriment but it is also a brilliant idea to explore some of the most delightful places on earth. It is a lifetime experience to cheer this great day at ideal Christmas fete destinations.
Even though most people think summer is the best season, winter can be just as awesome as summer. Winter is by far the best season because of all the things that go on. Winter can be the best time of year if you know the options that you have. First and foremost, winter can be a very boisterous time. Winter can be fun, because when it snows, you can make snowballs, snowmen, snow angels, you can slide down hills, and you can even make snow castles.
Thin air encompasses me as I commence the final day of skiing at Vail, Colorado. Seven days of skiing elapse rather painlessly; I fall occasionally but an evening in the Jacuzzi soothes my minor aches. Closing time approaches on the final day of our trip as I prepare myself for the final run of the vacation. Fresh off the ski lift, I coast toward the junction of trails on the unoccupied expert face of the mountain. After a moment of thought, I confidently select a narrow trail so steep that only the entrance can be seen from my viewpoint.
Have you ever overpaid for something? I think we all have. Your money—practically wasted. Luckily, I can teach you how to put an end to the anguish and regret you feel when you find your wallet and your shopping bag practically empty. By taking advantage of promotions, shopping second-hand, and comparing prices, you can prevent yourself from making the mistake of blindly overpaying.