I, for one, am relieved this season is ending. Ski season, that is. If you live in snoburbia, you must love to ski. If you do not love to ski, you have a character defect. ("I have never skied," I said, to the blank stares of my friends, who were regaling each other with tales of recent ski excursions.)
I finally made my first attempt at skiing, when the pressure to take my children skiing became too much to bear. They picked it up right away and loved it. I, however, ended my skiing career in tears, death-gripping the outstretched arm of the bemused ski instructor as he guided me to the bottom of the bunny hill.