I just returned from this year's annual ski trip with my college buddies. This year's trip was to Salt Lake City, which I had never been to. It's always a blast going on that trip, but I usually come back beaten half to death, because I'm by far the weakest skier of the group. So I tend to get myself into things that are tough to get out of, but that's how you learn, right?
On our last day of skiing we got some really great powder, that "champagne powder" stuff that you can get chest deep into. Which is really fun stuff, but it does slow you down some, so it's good to carry a lot of speed into any flat areas. Well, I discovered that I have a talent for getting going really fast and then wiping out, much to the detriment of my poles. Ah well, they're only $15 to replace anyway.
That same day I rode a lift with a fiftyish woman. As we passed over a 40 foot dropoff some brave snowboarder jumped off it full speed, and even stuck the landing, which led to this conversation.
Me: Damn, that was pretty awesome.
Her: Yeah, that reminds me of my son.
Me: Oh yeah, he does that sort of thing?
Her: Yep. He did that yesterday, but he landed on a rock.
Me: Oh, that's no good. Is his board ok?
Her: Oh his board is fine. He hit the rock, not the board.
Me: I hope he's ok!
Her: (casually) He's got a two foot cut in his back and fractured four vertebrae.
Me:. Um... ok then..
Now if that's not a shining example of motherly virtue, I don't know what is!