I turned the Weather Channel on as soon as I got up this morning, hoping that the weatherman on last night's newscast was mistaken about the coming arctic front. Well, he was only a little wrong. It wasn't -8 F. It was only -3 F. Damn.
My poor dog doesn't have thick coat (he's a hound/pointer mix), and he ran outside this morning, did his business, and was back inside in less than a minute. I know how he feels. I'm not a winter person. I don't like winter sports.
I truly truly suck at downhill skiing. I tried it once, with my sister for an instructor, but I gave up after a one day because the bunny slope proved to be too much. I wiped out a lot going down the slope (I have good balance, really I do), and the tow rope just about did me in bringing me back up the slope. I mastered snowplowing that afternoon, but that's about it. The only people having a harder time than me that day were two grade school kids on snow boards. But at least they seemed to be enjoying the experience. Now that I have a bad knee, downhill is absolutely out of the question.
The only plus side to the biting cold is that the cloud cover has broken up. The sun is shining, and the sky is a beautiful shade of light baby blue. Not bad for a Friday.
Writing update: About 1000 words into my current short story. Only behind my goal by 500 words.
1 comment:
One year my mother tried to teach me to ski. I was about 14 at the time. The best thing that happened was when I turned at the last possible moment and avoided breaking my skis when I hit the building.
I think that's right about the time my mother decided I was right when I said, "Skiing is not for me."
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