Last night a donkey found her way among a herd of unicorns. She glued a paper horn on her forehead and sneaked in among the gracious magical creatures, hoping that no one would notice that her legs were shorter, her mane was a dull grey and her eyes weren't sparkling. And there were definitely no rainbows coming out of her backside.
|Fast, faster, fastest|
Completely out of my element, I sank low on a chair among the 60-odd skiers gathered last night at the ski club. It was to be the first lesson of the ski school for adults I joined, albeit only a theory one this time, and the room was filled with those elegant people who can do amazing things, like stand on one leg, ski downhill without fear, and shoot a snot rocket without falling on their arses. Granted, there were other beginners in there, but I was the most beginner-y one of them all.
Despite not being in my natural habitat, a.k.a. in my running shoes and on the road, and despite the fact that new situations make me – like they do most people – nervous, I left the ski club eager to put on a pair of skis and hit the tracks. This little donkey will grow up to be a beautiful unicorn one day (as soon as my ski school has taught me everything I need to know). Just you wait and see. Until then, I'll be a unicorn when I'm running. A runicorn. HA!
In other news, cookies were baked yesterday despite the initial lack of energy. And they were good. Maybe it was the extra effort of visiting 5 different supermarkets before finding the rose water, maybe it was all the love I put into baking them, but they turned out better than they ever have. A little crumbly, just sweet enough, with the discreet taste of roses.
Tastes just like Christmas.