A Winter Spent Whining

The season has been disappointing thusfar. The snow accumulation numbers don't reflect it but the temperature stats certainly do. Tyler, whose years of ski bum experience give some credence to his armchair meteorology, says, "It's El Niño, this is typical of El Niño, every cycle, and next winter, oh, La Niña..." He says La Niña's name with wistfulness. '10-'11 was the last strong La Niña year and people still speak of that winter with grave longing: "That year, I got so tired of skiing deep powder days...I just wanted sunshine and groomers for a change."

I've finally learned to temper my expectations and now can find contentment, after yet another warm wet spell has quickly rotted the fruits of intermittent snow storms, in seeking out new stashes and savoring the five or eight good turns before the going gets heavy, crusty, or slushy.

A questionable start to a resort day
Pic courtesy of Sam

It helps having friends in town. Sam from Brevard came back out to play with his buddies and their presence motivated me to hunt harder for the goods instead of retiring to the couch in a mid-winter funk. By the time they left I was sore and sated from four full days of skiing. Erica and Alex (Tyler's best friends from his Colorado days and probably my favorite benefit I reap from our relationship) visited this weekend because they live in northern Utah and while I bemoan the state of our snow, we still have more of it than just about anyone. When they come up we always play outside a little half-assedly and then eat, drink beer, and talk shit with gusto. On Saturday we walked the bike path into town with cans of Ranger in our pockets to see a show, the floor packed full of people on weird drugs dancing feverishly. We tried to hang but were all feeling our age by the end of the night.

I complain but it's still really good here

When we went for a ski the first turns were so good we rejoiced. Then the snow got crunchy and I was going too slowly and haphazardly and Sophie scooted in front of me and I plunged my tips into the snow and we both tumbled. She seemed unphased but the blood on the snow told a different story. I had sliced her elbow with my ski edge. Tyler taped her up and she trotted merrily back to the parking lot. When we cleaned and rewrapped her leg and Tyler picked the gauze off her wound while I tried to hold her squirming, resentful little body, he decided she needed stitches. I was wracked with guilt and worry so Tyler had to deal with my histrionics as well as ministering to Sophie. She got three stitches yesterday and was just fine besides a little drunken weaving and minor consternation over her leg bandage.

Sophalope just wants to go downhill already

There is no actual point to this post except, in no particular order, A: I have my computer back from the repair shop and a real keyboard is one of the most wonderful things in the world; B: dog ownership is greatly improved by having a willing partner to share the responsibility and love; and C: life is good, friends are awesome, snow is plentiful, and I don't have anything to complain about.