Dear Skiing, I Miss You

There was an advertisement on Pandora just now - to send in the song that "inspires you on the slopes". 

Ahhh. 

The slopes.

I miss the slopes.

I miss skiing. 

I never did get particularly good at it. 

I always shied away from the difficult runs. 

Regardless of how many times I did it, I was always sure I was going to fall off the lifts. 

But I miss my ski pants. 

My blue, sequined beanie.

My piggy tails.

My red, Elan skis.

The sound of my boots (the ONLY ski boots I've ever seen that could fit over my calves) clipping in.

The feeling of the lift on the back of my knees.

The chatter of Japanese teenagers.

The lift men in their long purple coats who always inquired after the other gaijin.

The lunch break of ramen noodles or beef curry.

The freezing wind on my cheeks.

The crunch of the snow as I tried to convince everyone watching that yes, I actually needed those carving skis...

Pretending that anyone, including me, could be Lindsay Vonn (sans spandex).

Plus, I always looked super sexy.

Here's proof (what happened right before this picture was taken is a story for another day):

Harry Reid, You Jerk!

I totally voted last night.

I had to drive all over tarnation trying to find my precinct's voting location.

When I pulled in, there were hopeful candidates and their families waving elections signs.

I teared up a little bit.

Because #1 I honestly am grateful to live in a country where I have the opportunity to vote for my elected officials and #2 In my sophomore year of high school I ran for an FFA office and didn't win.  It was a traumatic introduction to the cruelty of the electoral system - a scar I still bear today.

While there weren't any super hotly contested races in this area, I took my vote for governor very seriously.  I voted for Rick Perry for the following reasons:

1.  He gave us a half day off on Good Friday last year.
2.  He shoots coyotes.  I am a fan of anyone who shoots coyotes.
3.  I didn't really know anything about his opponent.

The race I was really interested in was the senatorial race in Nevada. 

Oh, how I prayed that Harry Reid would not get re-elected. 

Harry Reid has served as a Nevada state senator since 1987, and as the senate majority leader for the past three years (before that, he was the senate minority leader and the senate majority whip).

He has long been the bane of every rural Nevadan's existence.

Mostly because he thinks it's a good idea to pipe all available Nevada water to Las Vegas.

And also because he's a big, fat jerk.

When I was sixteen, I met Harry Reid in person.

I was at an FFA leadership conference in Washington D.C. 

Everyone had a twenty minute question/answer period with at least one of the senators from their state.

There I was, proudly sporting my blue and gold FFA jacket, thinking of all the things I would ask him.

He came in, shook my hand, and said, "I bet your mom and dad don't like me, do they?"

I said, "No, sir, they sure don't."

He turned to his staff and said, "I see no reason for this meeting to continue.  Let's take a picture and get it over with."

All I could think was, "Seriously, Harry Reid?  Seriously??"

So, while all the other youngsters were having meaningful conversations with their representatives, I was sitting in the capitol hallway trying to pretend I wasn't with Neal Jones, the other kid from WHS who was also attending the conference, who, by the way, didn't brush his teeth.  Ever.

No sir, I don't like Harry Reid.

PS, Neal Jones was the only reason I passed high school chemistry.  I'm glad he was nicer to me than I was to him.  Please never let him take me on Jerry Springer.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

It's October.  And the nashi is delicious.

Validation

I'm back in Texas.

My good friend from Japan, Thanet, picked me up at the airport last night and took me to her mother-in-law's house for some pampering...chicken salad sandwiches and pumpkin crisp.

Thanet has a baby boy who is five weeks older than Carolyn.

He's a doll.

Our approaches to motherhood are so different, it's a wonder we're even friends.

She's the Bohemian mother: mid-wife having, home birth doing, breast feeding, co-sleeping, cloth diaper using mother.  The leader of the Beaumont La Leche League would approve.

I, on the other hand, am the queen of convenience:  epidural having, disposable diaper using, put-that-baby-on-a-schedule-already, bottle feeding mother.  Although, to be fair, the bottle feeding wasn't my idea and whomever said it was more convenient couldn't be more wrong.  I mean, good grief, traveling while washing bottles, boiling water, and measuring out formula couldn't be any more of a hassle.

However, despite these differences we are so alike it's not even funny.

Watching her interact with her baby was such a treat.

For me it was calming.

Educational.

Validating.

I couldn't help but giggle a little inside when she kept asking her baby if he was hungry because it was time for him to eat, but he wasn't so interested.

And I was almost gleeful when she couldn't figure out whether or not his disposable diaper (which she was using because they were traveling as well...don't worry, they're like dye and fragrance free and biodegradable in less than 20 minutes) was wet and needed to be changed.

Oh, and don't even get me started when she thought she saw blood in his spit up (that sounds bad, but you know what I mean).

She said several times, "Ok, baby, you know I'm a first time mother and I will freak out."

Ahhhhh.....

It made me feel so good.

I'm just so relieved to know I'm not the only one who feels and/or acts that way.

Cheers, Pet.