Skiing Through the Mashed Potatoes of Life
by Jill Darling

 Relentless frigid temperatures in the Northeast have kept the snow intact and continuous snowstorms and squalls blanket the area with new layers. For most people the tenacious wintry weather is a cruel joke. They've been itching to hang up the snow shovel, take out the rake and the hoe and move into springtime activities. But for me, the snow is a delight. 

 I'm a skier and the past few seasons have been phenomenal. Frolicking in fresh powder is a skier's dream. What a thrill it is to be the first to make S-shaped carvings on the trails.

 One year, after a heavy snowstorm, my friend and I eagerly took off for the slopes. The resort's policy is that if over a foot of snow falls, the trails are left ungroomed the next day. Instead of packing down the snow, they declare special "Powder Daize" so powderhounds can really play. 

 We had never skied in that much powder before. And the deep blue sky and balmy weather beckoned us even more. This was going to be a treat, or so we thought.

 What a difference the temperature can make. Instead of fluffy light powder that skis cut through like a hot knife to butter, the foot of white stuff was like skiing on a huge mound of mashed potatoes. The weighty snow made every turn slow and laborious. After three runs, our legs, like rubber, felt as if we had skied for hours. Our bodies made the quick back and forth turns, but our skis didn't necessarily follow suit. After a number of "face-plants" and pretzel twisted falls, we lumbered into the lodge to break for lunch. 

 I normally ski from the minute we arrive until the lift closes with nary a break in between. But this day proved otherwise. The only thing worse than plowing through mashed potatoes was attempting to ski in frozen mashed potatoes, which is what the snow turned to as temperatures dipped later in the day. 
 What seemed like a delightful ski trip to begin with, quickly turned into an arduous experience. But this is how life can be sometimes. Perfect conditions, our best-laid plans can be dashed in an instant. 

 Initially, on the ski lift, we grumbled about how awful conditions were. Then we realized how giving in to disappointment could ruin our entire day. The determining factor is how we react to the negativity of life. We decide whether to allow less than ideal circumstances affect us. Outlook is everything. 

 My friend and I intended to make the best of it and laughed at all the ridiculous spills we'd taken in the lumpy mess. A Bible verse came to mind, "…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things." 

 We did. The scenery was breathtaking. It was the most gorgeous day on the slopes we'd ever experienced. Instead of endless skiing, we stopped to take pictures of every conceivable backdrop of snow-covered, sun-drenched trees glistening against the blue-violet sky. 

 The trip was worthwhile. Not only did we have a great time, but we refused to allow our perfectly plotted day to be mired by the mashed potatoes of life.