gone skiing (sort of)

And... we're off! For the Forsythe annual ski trip! And the "sort of" part is because I don't actually ski. I tend to get drastically injured just walking, and I almost split myself in half AND broke both feet off at the top of my ski boots last time I tried. And I tried HARD! (But I literally thought, "This is it, both of my legs are going to snap off at the ski boot, because it is physically impossible for my skis to remain horizontal, with my boots remaining vertical, while I am prone and wrapped around something that shouldn't be on a bunny slope.") Actually, I think my actual thoughts (and what came out of my mouth) was more akin to "fuck! fuck! fuck! ohmigod! fuck! fuckfuckfuck! FUCK!!!" (rinse and repeat.)

So these days I kick back with hot toddies in front of the fire and read a book or surf the interwebs or take photos or nap, and stay nice and warm all day until all the friends and family come home, freezing and windburned and wet. Then we eat good food, drink, and play games of great hilarity. It will be so terrific to see everyone!

We're at the airport right now, and we board our plane soon. We fly into Albuquerque (via Phoenix) and then we're renting a car to drive to Red River. Five people, all their ski gear and miscellany, in an SUV. That should be fun AND comfortable. Let it be known: I'm pre-calling shotgun.

Enjoy the weekend full of torrential rain, SFers! See you soon! And don't even try to break into our house while we're gone, you nefarious thieves - we have a ferocious cat guarding the place (you don't want to fuck with the Mercury), and a cat sitter who ranks just behind Merc in don't-fuck-with-ness. Hi cat sitter! (You know who you are.) Thank you!

Wow - I feel so much better! I've been holding back on the obscenities recently, which (let's face it) goes against my nature. What a relief!