I’m back in Los Angeles. Flew in last week (Valentine’s Day, nonetheless) at around 7pm, repacked some bags, and drove out to SF with the final destination of Lake Tahoe for President’s Day weekend. Here is the baby boy on ice, photo by Kat:
Someone needs a haircut! Or a ponytail…
I still haven’t been feeling well, cursed with a radioactive spell of coughing and a sore throat the past week. I feel like my throat is harboring a desert with one giant Saguaro cactus that has only one prick, a naughty little prick, that tickles the walls of my throat at his random whim and fancy. And I can imagine the douche having lots of fun at my expense as I succumb into an uncontrollable coughing spat as he once again pokes the insides of my throat. Sorry for the weird graphic.
I took the day off yesterday and spent it wallowing in bed, but decided this morning that a week of feeling like shit is ridiculously long so I decided to test my limits by pushing through with a short notice Big Bear trip with ex-coworker Peterphile. I have an amazing capacity to ditch common sense and choose the path with most resistance just for the fun of being able to do so. And so I did.
I must point out that in the span of 13 weeks since I first attempted to snowboard, I’ve gone 6 times. Which makes an average of almost every other week. Huwaw, Batman! It would be pathetic to discover that I haven’t made any progress after so many trials and bruises on my ass, but in being true to my Leo-esque humble pie, I must admit that the past two sessions were bouyed by the help of better gear – a real snowboarding jacket (women’s size M because I’ll wear anything that fits me properly and I don’t GAS), wrist guards, and Mizuno sponsored knee pads. So while I’m a far ways off in competing for the X-Games, I’ll give my loser self some brownie points for persistence and admitting that I may possibly have an addictive personality.
Best of it all, I got upgraded this morning when the cashier asked how old I was. My obvious reply: “Really young.” And so she rang me up as a “Youth Ticket” for a discounted price, which is less than half of what Peterphile paid for his lift ticket and rental gear. Poor schmuck.
Everyone always said that it’s good to look young, and I always thought it would only count when we’re all pushing our 40’s. Well, apparently I don’t have to wait to start reaping the benefits, hehehe.