The Turning Point
Occasionally, I develop an obsession. Some trivial thing moves to my mind’s front burner and boils over until I attend to it. The boiling over stage often makes a mess.
My last obsession came at a poor time. Spring arrived, snow melted, I decided to practice my ski skills in our yard. Scraping together a picnic table, scrap lumber, snow and a brother to help me, I prepared a practice run.
Skiing in the yard was not new. Some years back I upgraded from a sled to downhill skis. But skiing a 50-meter-long hill failed to excite. Flight time fixed that failure.
Skiing at Big Mountain staved off my in-yard ski tendencies for a time, but this spring that pot once again boiled over. Rather than high altitude flight, I pursued stunt flying.
I owe my brother, Dane, a great deal. After assisting with picnic-table-ramp construction, he stood around watching me make a fool of myself. Hopefully that was some compensation. Furthermore, Dane captured my foolish endeavors on camera. Hopefully that was more compensation. Now, perhaps because I delight in being a fool, I’m sharing it all with you, dear reader.
Those cool guys in ski videos make aerials look easy. After a few runs, I quit thinking about 360s – 180 degrees was far enough. I’d waited too long to really practice. With skis cutting through a slushy landing pad and skidding to a stop on grass, I was lucky to stay upright. Balmy spring temperatures melted out my runway daily, requiring me to spread wheelbarrow loads of snow on it. The ski tricks pot still boils over, but I’ve run plumb out of snow. Future practice will wait until next season. Even if 180s still give me trouble, I’ve mastered grimaces evidencing concentration and consternation.