Winter in Vermont

Years ago, my sister posted this Buzzfeed article to my Facebook wall. She read it out loud to my mom this past Christmas Eve; at which time I confirmed that their explanation of 28 may actually be true: Whew—28 is the best year of your twenties. Not because of the spectacular partying (see: 22) or because you’ll magically have everything figured out (see: never), but because 28 is the year when you’re finally able to accept that no one actually “feels” like a grown-up and it’s OK that you don’t either. This is also the year I've been able to appreciate the past ten years of unstructured experiences, and marvel at how each one will always belong to me.
And let's not forget that time's not up yet! Yesterday, for instance, I want skiing for the first time ever. How can that be, you winter sports enthusiasts may ask? My mom and dad sought sun and sand vacations, and I don't find labor-intensive pastime prep all that appealing (—I have been snowboarding thrice). But, Deanna fell in love with skiing last winter and my aunt (who'd introduced her) gifted her lift vouchers to a private mountain that had to be used by this December 31st 2016. Enter, a two-day sister-ski trip to Vermont...
Although we both signed up for lessons upon arriving, my day one was pitiful. I just wouldn't recommend learning to ski at 28 (versus, say, 8)—skis are awkward, slopes are steep, and adults are all too aware of risks involved. My saving grace was Nancy's patient humor and good balance (namaste). Dare I say two was much better though. Nancy coached me again and I successfully linked wedge turns and it was... fun. My sister was so proud, ha. We're that much closer to fulfilling her ski-chalet-NYE dream.
But I did it! And my sister and I spent rare one-on-one time in one of the most quaint settings! In addition to skiing, we dined and heart-to-hearted at Cask & Kiln, slept and breakfast-ed at Shearer Hill Farm, and enjoyed ESM sandwiches on the ride home. Best.