Peeing in the snow makes me thankful they taught cursive in school.
My trip here always takes me way back, to sleeping in my old bedroom with the ground covered in snow. When I was a kid, I’d wake up and could tell something was different – the sound outside was muffled – and I’d jump out of bed, look out the very same window and know school was cancelled.
Then it was on. I grew up next to a golf course, with a steep decline on the ninth hole that was perfect for sledding. It included a treacherous area we referred to as “Suicide Hill.”
The stretch in the middle is the ninth hole. Upper right corner dropping into the sand traps: Suicide Hill. Mess you up.
