The regular season at Stowe, VT ended this weekend, so E and I and four friends caravaned up north to take one last snowboarding trip. The weather was spectacular, the snow was amazing and our skills had all improved so much since the beginning of the season—by Sunday, most of us were shredding in the terrain park.

Our friend Julia was a beginner, but she started off the day having her husband teach her. This would not end well.

Any one who skis or snowboards knows one should never have a significant other as an instructor. It becomes frustrating on both sides, and inevitably the man is blamed for the unhappiness and/or injuries of the woman. Marriages can be in tact at summit but end in divorce at the base. Thankfully I learned to ride before I met E, and E improved on his own throughout the season. Thus, our relationship has endured.

Also, as Julia explained to me, men tend to focus on the wrong things: “I love him to death, but he’s always telling me what I’m not doing instead of telling me what I did right.”

Our other friend Graham took over instruction duties. A ski patrol member stopped Julia and Graham on a blue after watching her struggle. “Are you two married?” he asked.
“No,” Graham answered.
“Related?”
“No.
“Oh, ok, you’ll be fine.”

By the end of the weekend, Julia got better much faster, and rode down with the group on the blue runs regularly. And with J’s husband having free time to work on his own skills, he, too, improved fast.

Since we had a bigger group, we stayed at a condo which had a regular sized kitchen. I made several sandwiches during the weekend. Now, I know I’ve done S’mores before. But this time, we did them how they’re supposed to be done–in front of a roaring fire, usuing Kraft Honey Maid Graham crackers, jet-puffed marshmallows and Hershey’s chocolate.

Because I’m an overachiever, I bought four types of Chocolate—Ghirardelli’s 100 percent dark cocoa, 60 percent chocolate,and their semi sweet stuff, as well as Hershey’s in case people just wanted the regular old fashioned stuff. As for the marshmallows, a debate broke out over how toasted one should get them “I like them charred, with the black stuff on it,” I said. Others went for the slow burn process, hovering the marshmallow over the flame so it slowly gets gooey, but never actually catches flame.

Since I was closest to the fire, I assembled each one by one, and handed them to my friends, including E on the couch who were too tired to move more than his mouth. S’mores are best eaten while bones are still sore from the day’s runs.

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