Writers Block. Skiing. Errands. Torturing a Teenager.
To some degree these have all contributed to my lack of writing over the last week.
Yesterday I’d every intention of writing an entry before retiring for the night. Well, the Road to Reno is Paved with Good Intentions, so here we are this morning instead.
My excursion to the gym last night wiped me out instead of amping me up.
If you had been lucky enough to cruise down Arlington at 7:30 this morning, racing at 15 MPH by the school here, you might have spied yours truly skating across the parking lot here at Chez Noir. An armful of laundry, quarters, and Cheer balanced precariously on a body dressed in pajamas, loafers and a huge brown sweater.
Hell if I know why I’m not engaged or married since this picture alone is not worth a thousand words, but a thousand dollars. In terms of blackmail at the very least.
Amongst the aforementioned laundry you would find only my clothing, and not a single article belonging to my darling daughter.
Oh yes, the Tree Hugging Vegetarian Child of the Damned ™ is happily home again. She arrived on Saturday night and her suitcase is still not unpacked. It lies among the ruins and detritus of a formerly pristine bedroom. The formerly pristine house is getting the housecleaning treatment today but the THVCD can keep her room a dedicated Superfund Site until June, when she returns to California for the summer.
Okay I say that now but we all know I won’t be able to take it that long. The fucking OCD gets my ass every time.
Spent time skiing over the weekend of course. On Friday (or Thursday? The days blur together when you’re a Ne’er Do Well) one of my ski boots began to act as a vise grip on my ankle. I tried re-adjusting the thing all morning, but nothing helped. The pain became excruciating but I kept skiing anyway. As you do.
Only when I was positive that there would be a massive amount of colorful bruising and swelling did I decide to call it quits for the day. The walk back to the car was a long and painful journey. Before arriving home the car, of it’s own volition, turned into the parking lot of Reno Mountain Sports. Their website sucks but the people there rock.
I took my screwy boot inside with me, to try and find out what the hell had happened.
Derek was working and took a look at the thing. Seems that the liner had tweaked and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it, shit happens. So how much is a new liner? $150.00 says Derek.
Jesusjumpingchrist I could buy a pair of boots for about double that amount. So I did (hangs head in shame).
Rationalization of the Week brought to you by the
Good Folks at Daimler Chrysler:
The new Tecnica boots had to be purchased.
How am I going to ski without boots?
The season pass is already paid for.
I’d gotten two good seasons out of those Atomics and the new Tecnicas were on SALE. You betcha. They were last year’s model and I paid less than half of the original price.
|Here’s a picture of Puss and Boots|
Oh, the reason that Daimler Chrysler is this week’s sponsor is because they purchased the boots for me. True. Hey Mark, you may ski for Solomon but the cretins at Chrysler are helping me this season. Of course Solomon sponsors you because you’re the best and Chrysler is helping me because they’re the worst. Lemme back up:
Last year the radiator fan in the Jeep tried to commit suicide. It was successful and took out the fan shroud with it. Why is it that so many crazy suicidal people take a loved one with them? You’d think they’d just off themselves and leave the kids alone.
Anyway, it was a $600.00 repair bill. So a few weeks ago I get a recall notice stating that the radiator fan blades in 2001/2002 Grand Cherokees were defective. No! Get outta town. It took those clowns over a year to figure this out. After some paperwork and a few phone calls I got my money back for the repairs.
Behold new ski boots for me and new glasses and contacts for The Demon Child.
So on Sunday (or Monday? The days blur together when you’re a Ne’er Do Well) Cate and I went skiing. This was her first time out for the season. Don’t you know that the little wretch out-skied me on the first run? Next week I’m putting beef and chicken stock in her veggie burgers before we go out. Heh. No worries, I was back to the normal Intermediate Spaz level by afternoon’s end.
It took me all day to acclimate to those new boots. As a matter of fact I took a spectacular spill, the first of the year. Thankfully I was only going about 30 MPH when I caught an edge, did a header, and cruised about 50 feet face-down on the slope. The snow was pretty soft so I was only pissed-off and wet. I get back up, clean off the goggles, dump the snow out of the gloves and am ready to continue down the run. Just then some asshat flies by and does a rooster tail, thereby soaking me once again.
I’m sure you have nothing but time to read these ramblings but the laundry has to come out of the dryer. After that it’s off to the gym in an effort to control the intake of pumpkin cheesecake and chocolate. Later today we’ll be back to Eyeglasses R Us (or whatever the fuck it’s called) and Cate will be shown how to put her new contact lenses in her eyes. This should take at least an hour given her own high spaz co-efficient.
This weekend when we ski she’ll be able to wear them though, along with the new goggles I got her for Christmas.
Courtesy of Miss R
(that’s “Dammit Cate my name’s Mom not Dude!” to you)
and not the Good Folks at Daimler Chrysler.
First Impressions of Earth
By: The Strokes
Release date: 03 January, 2006