An Adventure – Learning to Ski

Today’s Music: Tori Amos

So, here we are, in the ongoing series of “Learning to” Adventures posts.

Some of my best skiing days have happened when I was hung over. I don’t recommend that condition for actually learning to ski though.

This picture isn't me, but could have been. Many times.

Skiing (from Urban Dictionary): somethin a person does in the wintertime to convince oneself that he or she is actually enjoying the 10 degree weather.

The first thing is to get the right clothes.
The first time I went, I wore jeans. And fell a lot. All the dye in the denim seeped right through the top 20 layers of my skin, and I had blue legs through February.

Second thing is have a sense of humor.
You’re going to fall. No way around it. If you can laugh about it, you’ll be able to get back up and learn to stay up that much faster, thereby freeing yourself to laugh at the poor bastard behind you who just did a fantastic slow-mo windmilling flop. While not moving.

Third thing is to get a teacher.
By teacher I mean not just someone who knows how to ski, but someone who can teach it.

Let me explain.
So one winter, Ronnie and Meat decided I should learn how to ski. Sure, why not.
We trundled up to the mountain, and I got my rental gear and lift ticket, and we headed up the mountain. To the top.

Much scarier with planks strapped to your feet. And no idea what you're doing.

This was the lesson, as explained to me by Meat: Ronnie’ll go first and show you what to do. I’ll go behind you to pick up your stuff (see top pic) and tell you what you did wrong.

One thing I learned about cold mountain air – it clears hangovers fast. Well, that and terror.

For those of you have never been to Hunter Mountain, the main skiing face faces east. That means it is softened by the morning sun. Which means?
Exactly. When the sun crests and begins to set in the west, the east face freezes back up. Into sheet ice.

People out west mock the east coast snow. And justifiably, because their’s is much softer and fluffier.
But lemme tell you, if you can ski the east (especially someplace like Hunter), you can ski anywhere.

Back to the lesson.

The fourth thing is to Zip. Up. Your. Jacket. All the way.
We’ve already established that you will fall. At some point, you will probably Yard Sale (again, see top pic).
That’s where both your skis come off and shoot in opposite directions, your poles bounce off to God-knows-where, your hat is half buried in the snow behind you, a glove may have come off, and your lungs are twice their normal size from all the snow forced down your throat as you belly surfed down the hill.
Zipping your jacket will keep at least one square yard of snow off your chest.

Having fun yet?

Looks ridiculous, but it does work.

Good. Because it isn’t all horror. By the end of the day, I was able to use my modified snowplow to zig-zag down the mountain in one piece. I was skiing!

Meat and Ronnie gave me my first lessons in skiing parallel too (as opposed to snowplow), and this gave me (barely) enough control and (way too much) speed to be able to zip down the mountain making some truly…unique maneuvers.
I had so much fun, I eventually forgave them for their wtf teaching method.

Once I could ski at a level near theirs, we needed to add some tricks,
like the Daffy, and the Backscratcher

I've done this! And landed well!

I've done this! The landing was hilarious. And painful.

Now, my wife (the most wonderful girl in the universe) and I try and go skiing at least once a year. I taught her the basics, and she very wisely (and relationship savingly) decided to take a real lesson. She gets better every year. And so do I.

Looking back over this, I think the most important part of learning to ski is to do it because it’s fun, and you want to enjoy it.
Otherwise, you’ll end up with blue legs, or a belly full of ice, or a broken rib (that one really sucked, but I skied the rest of the day anyway), and no big stupid grin to show for it.

Bought these after I knew how to use them. They were great, but their time has passed...

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go see what lift tickets will be this season, and try on my ski hat…

Yes, I do wear it in public. Sometimes, I even wear it to work.

On Blogging

Today’s Music: The Wombats

Over at Smart Boy Designs, Christian Hollingsworth did a survey, asking “Why Do You Blog?”. He profiled several bloggers, and there answers were quite interesting, as were the comments.
They ranged from altruistic – “I want to help people with whatever it was that I’ve also gone through”, to more self serving – “I think I can make a living at this”, self-help – “I can become a better writer by blogging and practicing my craft”, to a host of other reasons.
It’s worth checking out.
I myself follow several blogs – John Scalzi (observations about everything), The Bloggess (can’t be described. Just go check it out.), Old Dog, New Tits (very entertaining about a woman researching breast implants, with occasional interruptions form the rest of the universe), Old Jules (also commenting on anything and everything, in a very laid back style. And lately, with lots of limericks).
Each of these blogs is different. Each wants readers and comments. I think each, without readers and comments would still be posted to regularly by the authors.
See, everyone has something to say. Everyone has thoughts or ideas they want to shout out to the universe.
So do I. That’s why I’m here. The universe, being what it is, really doesn’t care. But that’s not really the point, is it?
I’ll publish this entry, I’ll flog it on twitter.
I’ll comment in other blogs, where hopefully the comment will be relevant and clever enough to make it’s readers curious enough about me to draw them here.
Maybe they’ll read through the posts, or the music page and find something that interests them, and they’ll comment, or like, or tweet, or something else that lets me know they’ve been here.

But I don’t think that’s what’s important to me (though I can’t speak to what is important to the bloggers called out here (or any of the other millions of bloggers out there)).
To me, the point of my blog is to give me a soapbox to shout from. And to just get whatever it is off my chest. Whatever it may be.
I’d like it to have a theme. That’s part of why I have the “Today’s Music” link at the top of every post. I had originally had “Today’s Adventure” too, but lately it seems like I haven’t had any real good adventures. And sometimes, what is on my mind is out of left field…

So basically you’re getting music, and my babblings.

But another part of why I blog is to vent. If you look through the older posts, you’ll see that there are a few related to having a crappy week, or a relative’s health issues. I can talk about it to my wife (the most wonderful girl in the universe), but I don’t want to unload on her (though I could and sometimes do).
The posts I’ve had about music aren’t at all objective. I’m not interested in the skill (mostly) of the band, more on whether or not I like the music. So another point of the blog is to show what great music taste I have and hopefully turn you on to something you might like.
In the end, I think perhaps the primary reason I blog is to put it out there, to leave some record that I was here, even if it’s a short, frequently inane one.

Oh, and some posts have limericks too!

A Literary Limerick – The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand

Today’s Music: Soniadada
This was not my fault.

I had a brief conversation on Twitter the other day with @captsingh.
He quoted Ayn Rand, and I responded.
The conversation is below:

from @captsingh –
A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others. — Ayn Rand

@captsingh Did you ever read The Fountainhead?

@Guapowitz No , I heard about that book though…tell me ..

@captsingh Ayn Rand explains her philosophy through a story about an architect and his troubles. Not a fan of hers, but a great book.

@Guapowitz Thanks, will read it when I see it next time…

That’s a very broad, rough description of the book, Which got me to thinking, how do you describe a book in 140 characters?
Why, with a limerick of course!
So I spent the next few hours trying to build one in my head. Because I am probably not right in my head.

So for all of you who have read The Fountainhead, but forgotten it, and for all of you that have no plans to read it, but want to sparkle wittily at cocktail parties, here is the limerick:

An Architect, his vision stifled by others,
his plans changed by those dark, dirty Mothers.
So the building did he wreck,
and the court held him in check,
’til he was acquitted by a jury of brothers

You’re welcome.

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