Rain or Shine

It’s almost Super Bowl time, and I’m in a prime location. This year, for a limited time only, Maggie G is broadcasting live from Pennsylvania. I’m living just outside of Allentown, which puts me in prime Eagles territory. And I have to tell you, I’m excited at the prospect of an all-Pennsylvania showdown. Continue reading


Don’t Call It A RunningBack

Jay Peak, VermontI think we were about 5 minutes into the first run of the day when I took the big slide. I had reached the crest of a hill, at which point I caught a death cookie and crashed face-first into the snow. If only I had been able to stop at that – but gravity being what it is, I continued to travel down the mountain, face-first on my tummy (like a home-made Maggie Sled) for about 60 yards.

Sixty yards on the first play of the game? If I was a running back, I could have single handedly saved Greg Robinson’s career. Alas, I’m just a washed-up former skier who can’t quite find her footing. At least I can say I stayed on my feet for the rest of the day (save one or two quick indiscretions). It’s a good thing too. I’ve got a bruise the size of a small piñata on my right hip and the last thing I need is to match it on the other side, or add an addition.

Dad Chomps Cookies in a GladeLucky for me, my father was able to take over my spot as Spill-Master Extraordinaire. Looks to me like he has a hankering for those cookies. He took a helluva fall earlier this morning in a glade before taking the Dive To End All Dives on our last run this afternoon. Picture this: Giant farmer comes over the crest of a hill in a large banana suit, chews cookie, splats on face, and continues down the hill on his back for about 70 yards (breaking my own record – the Orange haven’t seen a play like that since Floyd Little), skidding so fast and forcefully that both his skis sailed off along the way.


And so the Running Back of the Year Award goes to my Dad, Sandy Gordon, for successfully rushing 70 yards for a totally gnarly TD between two trees.

Give that man a cookie.

White Christmas Indeed!

My Dad, sister and I decided to spend Christmas skiing in Vermont this year. So here we are at Jay Peak, in the northern-most tip of the state. It was about a 5 hour drive here (the day after arriving home from the three-day trek back from Bama), and we were on skis within about an hour of our arrival.

I used to be a pretty good skier back in the day. Mom, Dad, Sarah and I would head out about 20 times a year, and we would spend a week here at Jay every February. But it’s been about seven years since I’ve touched skis. The results are halfway between pathetic and hilarious, especially as I try keeping up with my sister Sarah (who was the captain of her ski team at college and had a season pass to this very mountain for the last two winters), and my father (who at the age of . . . well, old . . . can still boogie down the hills with the best of them).

Day one saw me on SnowBlades after convincing myself they would be a smoother adjustment. Shorter means less chance of tip-crossing, right? I managed to make it through the day without falling.

Day two on the other hand . . . well, see for yourself. On the plus side, I didn’t hurt myself on the slopes. I did however suffer a minor shoulder injury in the lodge. More on that to come I’m sure.

Merry Christmas to all who are celebrating today, and I hope to have more pathetic/hilarious pictures for you to check out through the rest of the week!


pictures provided by Sarah Gordon