January = dreary and boring

Okay, confession time. I have stopped riding the bus. That's not a euphemism for quitting my job :) I have just been driving to work since Christmas Eve. I can park for free on the street about 7 blocks from the hospital.

Pros:

- I drive to work in comfort and solitude.

- I have to climb a hill steep enough to get my heart rate up, but not so steep that I sweat through my deodorant first thing in the morning.

- My commute home at the end of the day is 20 minutes instead 40.

- I can stop and run errands on the way home from work, thus increasing my productivity.

Cons:

- My road rage has gotten worse since I'm driving pretty much everyday.

- My carbon footprint is bigger, and that makes the Earth sad :(

- I park in a not-so-safe area, and clutch my pepper spray the entire time. I think through attack scenarios in my head and how I would counter them, as I walk past "the snatchin' hole" (a human-sized hole in a giant hedge surrounding a large creepy house).

But fear not, dear readers, I haven't given up my bus pass, and will actually be taking it to work this week as my hours are weird and I would have to park miles away if I drove. I'm sure my encounters with strangeness will continue. Just last week, I passed a black man dressed as the Statue of Liberty. I'm pretty sure he was advertising something, but I never did figure out what it was.

Our weather has been warm and wet. It actually got up into the 60s a few times last week, and I got to enjoy some sunshine time on my roof deck. Lots of birds outside think it's spring, and sing songs in the morning. I think it's funny what sort of things you appreciate as you age. I don't ever remember hearing a bird chirp/sing and thinking "wow, that's really lovely," to the point where I wanted to stand still and just listen. But now I do. Or maybe it's the city living that has me appreciating the nature-y things when I encounter them.

On a completely different note, I'd like to know if anyone remembers the post I wrote not long after moving here that involved a picture of what I removed from my bathroom sink drain? I had used tweezers to pull out a chunk of hair/crud. Well, the sink drained okay after that, but for many, many months has been draining more and more slowly. I tried pouring boiling water down it once a month, but it never really got better. The other day at the gym I saw an infomercial for this drain de-clogger thing that sort of looked like a mascara brush attached to a pipe cleaner, and it motivated me to try and be more creative in my de-clogging efforts. So this time, I figured out how to get the drain stopper thingy out, and I used a toothbrush...and let's just say what I pulled out was too horrifying for pictures. I was tempted to check for bones because it very much resembled some sort of decaying small mammal. But, the sink now drains faster than it ever has before, and I'm confident that I got all of the clog this time. And I've learned a valuable lesson about doing a job thoroughly the first time. And it was immensely satisfying to pull that wad of crud out, and I feel quite proud and accomplished every time I use the sink. Fun with problem solving.

Surprises and Bellyflops

So, a few weeks ago a friend from work called and invited me to go night skiing with her and her husband (Brooke & Jesse). I initially declined due to my lack of ski pants, but was talked into changing my mind by a brother filled with jealousy at my relative location to mountains and the opportunity to go skiing at any time. I ran out and found a $25 pair of ski pants at Fred Meyer, and went to join my friends in the mountains.The adventure began when the two-lane mountain highway we were driving on (which is one of the most beautiful stretches of road I've ever driven on) suddenly came to a standstill. Cars driving by in the opposite direction began holding up three fingers as they passed. We were confused; did it mean 3 miles? a 3-car accident? Eventually an ambulance drove by, announcing from it's loudspeakers "the road will be closed for 3 hours." At this point, I felt a little bit of relief, as it had been over a decade since I'd been on skis, and was worried that I was going to break my femur. But Jesse had other ideas.

He had apparently spent the majority of his teenage years going skiing at this particular pass, and knew a 'back way' to get there. This route involved a tiny, winding road through the forested hills. We were in a big truck that sort of felt like a tank and I had resigned myself to my fate, so it was kind of fun. But my mom would have needed a Valium (or three) to get through that ride :)

We finally got there (http://www.stevenspass.com/), and I began the awkward process of gathering the necessary accoutrements and figuring out how to put them on/use them. I made it to the lifts without falling down, and successfully got off the lift at the top of the Daisy run (the bunny slope). Woohoo...the 1st run was fun and exhilarating as my 'ski legs' came back to me. I practiced my snow plow, figured out how to turn, and managed not to hurt myself, in spite of some icy patches. The second run was even better, I was really cruising and thinking "wow, this is fun...and not as hard as I thought it would be!" Brooke and Jesse were impressed and full of praises. They convinced me that I was ready for the Skyline run. "It's pretty much just like Daisy, only longer," they said.

They were lying. Skyline was much steeper (although it didn't appear so from the ride up), much icier, and about a million miles long. After successfully making it to the bottom of the 1st steep icy death hill, I somehow got stuck in the downward facing dog position with my skis crossed over one another behind me. I was laughing too hard to get out of it, and Brooke and Jesse were laughing too hard to help me...and that was the moment when I let go of pride completely.

I fell pretty hard on the ice at least three times on my left elbow during the next steep icy death stretch, but felt like I was sort of improving at turns. The ice made it really difficult to have any sort of control. And then, I went over this rounded patch and fell hard, basically bellyflopping on the ice with my arms in the superman position. My left shoulder 'popped' when I hit, and as I slid forward I said a Very Bad Word and was pretty certain I had broken something. One of my skis had come off, and the wind was knocked out of me, and all I could do for several minutes was flip myself over and lay on the ice crying. As I became able to assess the damage, I realized my left shoulder and right wrist were in a lot of pain.

Around this point, a really helpful stranger skied up, observed me sprawled across the ground with one ski five feet away, and said "you know, this isn't a good place to stop." Never in my life have I wanted to hit someone so much. Brooke told him, politely and not in so many words, "duh," but he persisted in standing there offering helpful advice such as "if someone falls and needs some time to get up, you should put your ski poles into the ground in a cross position so other people don't run into you." He stayed and watched as I struggled to get up and put my ski back on. I was shooting death thoughts at him in my mind, and was quite thankful when he decided he'd helped enough and skied away.

My goggles were all fogged up from crying, and all my courage was knocked out of me when I fell. I had no reserves left with which to continue down the slope, which was still incredibly steep and icy. Brooke and I cut through a gully/trees to the next slope over; part of a much shorter, but still pretty steep run. There was just one loooong steep slope between me and the warmth and safety of the lodge. I tried unsuccessfully to side-step down on skis, then just boots. Finally, I took off my skies, handed my poles to Brooke, and slid down on my butt. I went very fast, snow got all up everywhere, and I was sure that as soon as I reached the bottom I would be kicked off the mountain for sledding down a ski slope. But I wasn't. And I wouldn't have cared if I was.

We had curly fries and spiked cocoa in the lodge, and then Brooke and Jesse took a couple more runs down the mountain. I did have fun (and terror), and I'm glad I got a refresher before my trip to Keystone next month. Thankfully, I didn't break my femur (or anything else), but I'm pretty sure my shoulder popped out of the socket then right back in when I fell. It is still kind of sore when I move it a certain way.

On New Year's Eve, I took a red-eye flight to St. Louis to surprise Jeff, Amie, and Xavi for Xavi's 1st birthday party. I won't write too much about it, since I anticipate that xavilution.blogspot.com will eventually cover it. But it was a great 2 1/2 days of family, food, and my exceptionally cute baby nephew.

Xavi, thinking "I'm not totally sure who you are, and I just woke up." We were all waiting for them to arrive at the hotel, and things were loud and rowdy like usual. Jeff was getting ready to head to Diddy's black & white ball later that day.

Amie and Thea having a photo shoot in the hallway.

Xavi and his new toy truck. I love his expression in this picture. "I LOVE MY NEW TRUCK!"

My friend Krista stopped by! She brought a Pink Floyd t-shirt for Xavi. He's well on his way to becoming 'the cool kid.'

Ray the dog and I had some special bonding time. He was sad that the party was over, and all the food was off the table and out of reach :)