In the upper Penisola, near Big Powderhorn Mountain, one of my friends has a log cabin. It is six-hour drive from Chicago, but he drives there a couple times a month, especially during ski season. A few months ago, my friend invited my roommate and me to spend a weekend. Since neither one of us had skied before, we signed up for "learn and love" skiing lessons. Our instructor was a twenty- fife- year- old guy named Blake.
"So, how are we? Ready for some fun, eigh?" he greeted us. "Ok, let me show you how to put the skis on," Blake continued, since nobody replied.…
