Friday, February 12, 2010


My Dear Hubby a.k.a. DH, has been my soul mate for over forty years.
For more than thirty of those years he’s been a wonderful father and a university professor.
He’s a loveable grandpa.
And he makes me laugh.
He’s warm,
very friendly and a great cook.
He’s a giver of good gifts. (Dude! A Dell!)
He catches fish.
Lots of fish.
He always goes fishing with friends and family. If they have problems catching their legal limit he is always glad to assist.
He likes amateur radio, and reads authors like John Grisham and Michael Crichton.

Thank you, Sweetheart, for putting up with me. I love you.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


There is a cross-country ski trail that goes around the south side of Silver Lake. Most of the tracks at this location are all groomed and smooth like this--
--lots of fun but not much of a challenge. Then there is the trail that warns you ahead of time—

It’s gonna be a bumpy ride. It is such a roller coaster that it can’t be groomed by machine. After a few skiers get through trashing their way down the path, the snow is the consistency of frozen mashed potatoes.

I am hopelessly clumsy and incompetent when it comes to anything athletic. And it has been several years since I'd taken on South Silver Lake Trail. This time the weather was beautiful and I had my skis waxed just right. I took a deep breath and started out. After a while I got into sort of a rhythm and was doing a pretty good job of not crossing my skis. Still, in the back of my mind I knew there was that double drop between the trees at the far end of the lake.

It is useless for me to try and remember to do all the things like: bend knees, low center of balance, edges into the curve---that stuff. Because when I am going very fast downhill my brain pretty much goes into panic mode. So when things get scary I sing to myself. This somehow loosens up the knees and overrides alarm systems.

I was almost out of the woods and had convinced myself that the double drop had been fixed and I had gone right by it when I saw the sign--

nailed to the tree at the edge of the long downhill.

“Don't think, feel. Ain't no big deal.  Just make it real and don't think, feel. La-la-LA!” And I pushed off. And I missed the trees. I went faaaaast. And finally came to a stop; still on my feet.  WOOHOO! 

Velocity had carried me ‘way past the double drop. So I turned around and came back to get a photo or two with my cell phone.
First drop

Second drop

While going back (what I do for blog photos) I went down a small incline, picked up a little speed, left the trail and found myself headed straight for a tree. At the last second I dove into the powder.

I ended literally up to my armpits in deep snow.

I rolled on to my back looking very much like an overturned june bug—arms and legs all wavy in the air. Finally I got my skis under me and traveled on down the track. ALIVE!

Monday, February 8, 2010


You can find yours in Idaho if it is a small town out in the sage brush by the Snake River.

This is in Idaho too.

This sign is stuck on a post where I wait to cross the street on my way home from work.  It makes me laugh.  I'm easily amused.

This one makes me laugh too.

And it is still really cold here.