Winging it

The Boy enjoys skiing, but is not an enthusiastic ski student.  Having discovered last year that he can get down just about any slope in a firm wedge, so far as he's concerned that's his method, it works and he's sticking with it.  Who needs instruction?

So he's not developing into the most elegant skier on the piste - but he really can get down almost anything. Yesterday he descended the full Colonel, including the nearly vertical "black diamond" bit at the top, and he made it all the way without falling once. Wow.

Speaking of reluctant students (adds the Man), the Girl cheerfully admits that Math goes in one ear and out the other because she "can't see the point" of it. So she can't fully appreciate the enormity of the fact that an estimated 1.25 billion buffalo wings were consumed during yesterday's Superbowl. Nor can she calculate how many chickens (assuming six wings per chicken, as my omnivore friends advise) were involved. To say nothing of all the buffalo.