Little Bro

My little brother presented me with an interesting revelation today. While listening to music, the only difference between black people and white people is that black people bob their heads back, and white people bob their heads forward. He's so observant.

Kitty (continued)

A while ago (two weeks?), the Neighbor to the Left said that she complained to the rental company that I was feeding the cat, and that I would be receiving a letter shortly. I have yet to receive said letter. In fact, I haven't seen any of the Neighbors to the Left since then. Maybe they died of bad karma.

Anyway, the kitty (who turned out to be a boy) is inside my apartment now because it is cold outside. I'm going to take him to my parents' house Wednesday so they can adopt him (I've talked to my mother about this, but not my father). His names (he does have more than one, according to T.S. Eliot) will be Kitty, and Mustafa.

My only dilemna right now is what to do with Kitty/Mustafa when I leave for the evening. I can't let him back out - it's cold outside! But what if I leave him inside and he drops a kitty log? What to do, what to do...

The Canada Diaries (part 3)

Yeah. I was sick for the rest of the trip. Didn't ski anymore. Didn't eat much, either. At least maybe I lost some weight. If only I'd been trying to lose weight in the first place, this would all be great.

The Canada Diaries (part 2)

Day 5 (continued) - Sick. Terribly, Terribly Sick.

Only skied two hours today. Feel miserable. Going to vomit.

The Canada Diaries (part 1)

Here begins the super-exciting tale of my days in Canada:

Day 1 - The Beginning

Departure. Due to miscommunication, drove six hours in a hatchback with four people, 3 pairs of skis, a snowboard, a great many bags, and lots of food. Stayed in Rochester with a fat cat and a hyper seven-year-old.

Day 2 - Une Évasion

Met up with some people in the morning and dropped the skis and board, allowing each of us in the hatchback to have our own seat. After an eight hour drive, we arrived at Mont Tremblant. Here began my 5 day political exodus from America.
One van slid into a ditch, but everyone else arrived safely. I bought some wine with cute pigs on the label, but failed to notice the twist-off cap (no cork? boo!). It turned out to be surprisingly not terrible.

Day 3 - Piste Fermée

First lift at 8:30 for some beautiful snow, followed by beer in the hot tub. In the evening, we set off in search of a liquor store. Much to my dismay, all the liquor stores were closed due to a strike. The strike was already three weeks long, and it showed no signs of stopping. The closest town selling booze was two hours away. Disappointing. Beer and wine would have to do.

Day 4 - J'aime la Bière!

Despite a late bedtime, I somehow managed to get up for first tracks. The snow was perfect, but the weather was a bit colder (-17°C) (not including the wind - Tremblant is the windiest place ever). Due to the cold, I took a long lunch, during which some of us discussed the benefits and drawbacks of circumcision. (My children will be circumcised so I don't have to deal with smegma - and SS reached his limits as an interactive English/French dictionary because he didn't know the French word for "smegma.")

Day 5 - Il Fait Froid

I'm taking a break this morning to post. Maybe I'm a pussy, but I'm getting the third-day-of-skiing burnout. My legs (and back, and left wrist) are achy and it's cold out there.
The thing that people don't realize about a ski trip is that it's not so much a vacation as it is a lot of work. It's six hours of exertion a day, combined with too much alcohol and not enough sleep. But it's worth it. The views are amazing, and it's not too crowded yet, allowing for some really serene moments on the trails. Plus, the terrain is so much better than anything in Ohio. At home, my skiing is about as good as it's going to get, but when I come to a bigger resort, I realize how much I still have to work on. There really is no such thing as perfection in skiing, because there is always a bigger mountain waiting to kick your ass.
And now that I'm thinking about it, I've got to get outside!

Lust

ADIDA...P???
All Day I Dream About... Puppies? I know the brand is about soccer - I don't really dream about that. And I know the song is about sex - I do dream about that. But puppies - that is what I really dream about. I check the available dogs in the area about once a week. It's torture, really, because I can't get one. Time. Money. Landlord. So it goes.

I guess this will have to do...

Sloth

Today I put off studying for my finals (the first of which is tomorrow) to go climbing. Some might argue that this was a mistake, but I assure you, it was necessary. I hadn't done anything active since last Saturday, and I'd been thinking since Thursday how it felt like my legs were dissolving themselves. Atrophy is such a bitch.

Some people think this is all in my head, but I assure you it really happens. My thighs had been burning of sloth for days now, to the point of actually being physically painful. When I climbed tonight, I definitely did not have the endurance that I had even a week ago. Maybe I'm just a compulsive exerciser.

Now, I am putting off studying even longer by posting this. And it's not even about anything interesting. I apologize to you, gentle readers, few in numbers though you may be.

Box Springs

Roomie AS and BF JH carrying broken box spring out of apartment this morning. I have an idea how it got broken... ;)

Driving

"I kind of thought it would be one-way..."

-me, to AD, after I swerved out of the left
lane to avoid the oncoming traffic.

Kitty

So there's this kitty that hangs around my apartment complex (sex TBD), and it's very friendly. It's not shy at all; in fact, it often comes up the steps and tries to get into the apartment. Kitty doesn't look skinny (it has long hair), but when I pet it, I can feel its little kitty bones. Further inspection reveals that Kitty has no claws and is therefore probably somewhat limited in its ability to catch food.

I want to adopt Kitty, but my lease says I'm not allowed. Instead, my roommates and I watch the kitty and, because we are suckers for poor defenseless fluffy animals with no claws, feed it. In fact, I bought some dry cat food at the store today. (I'm not the first to do this - I have seen cat food on the steps of the Neighbors to the Right.)

So I fed Kitty, and then I headed out to see the Warren Miller movie. On my way out the door (Kitty was still there), a Neighbor to the Left asked if it was my cat and if I had fed it. She seemed rather upset when I told her "no," and "yes." She said it's never going to leave if we feed it, and that it always hangs around her steps. So what am I supposed to do, let it starve to death because someone was cruel enough to declaw it and then turn it loose? That's just not my style.

Do I foresee a possible war, my apartment (and possibly Neighbors to the Right) vs. Neighbors to the Left? Stay tuned.

Mourning

Ken Jennings, I will miss you.