Speaking of which, this weekend, through the miracle of Digital Video Disc technology, I watched the trailer for a movie after I watched the actual movie. I was surprised to find (being normally such a trusting soul) that about a third of the scenes in the trailer didn't even make it into the movie; several of the rest were re-arranged to give a slightly skewed version of the story. So the next time you're in your local Multiplex and they tempt you with the charms of the Coming, caveat emptor.
Where was I? Oh, spring... anyway, I think we have a few more hurdles to clear before we get there. These include both a forecast of high temps in the 20s later this week, and St. Patrick's Day. This was rammed home for me with spectacular force on my weekly visit to the grocery store (I should say "our" weekly visit, accompanied as always by my faithful four-year-old companion).
I usually enjoy the music wafting over the PA, but it was a "wee bit" of a trial today as the Irish fiddles were skirling away at full volume. Now, remember, I love music -- in fact, I wrote one of last summer's posts at the intermission of a concert by an Irish band -- but I guess I have a skirling threshhold. By the time we got to the dairy aisle I was bleeding from the ears both internally, from the volume; and externally, from trying to claw them off. I was almost wishing for country music.
Of course, I'm usually a big enthusiast about holidays that have devolved into an excuse to drink till you hurl (yeah, I'm looking at you too, New Year's Eve).
As eager as I am for spring to get here already (or for this post to get to the point, whichever comes first), it's just as much true that I won't be too sorry to see winter go. You might know I always have an idealized goal of how "family life" is going to go; in this case I always envision us frolicking merrily through Outdoor Winter Activities. That butts up against reality, like no snow followed by blizzards followed by zero-degree weather... as well as at least one family member who from November to March is usually restricted to the "winter activities" that can be conducted from the corner of the couch under the electric throw. Not to worry, it has a 4-foot cord.
Still, we've had a couple big outings so far: one trip to the sledding hill, and one ice skating trip. I took one trip down the hill myself (and crashed), which was almost exactly as successful as the skating. A few things I learned about skating:
- Most of your Olympic skaters probably don't go quite as long between trips to the ice. I realized with a start that I hadn't had skates on since a year with a "19" in it... pretty sure those were the first two digits.
- An outdoor ice rink is a quaint and homey notion, but after a certain point in the season is not to be relied upon. Ah, the sensation of gliding along -- and coming to an abrupt halt as your blade slices through a thin veneer of ice the approximate consistency of a slice of toast. Without butter.
- Sometimes it's better to just go ahead and fall. It's actually quite possible to hurt yourself more contorting to avoid falling than it is just to hit the ice... particularly when the ice is the approximate consistency of a slice of toast.
- There is such a thing as biofeedback. After a few minutes (OK, less than one minute) on skates, several parts of my Bio were giving me all kinds of Feedback: particularly my ankles, which were retorting, "you're kidding, right?" and my hip flexors, which were making a sound reminiscent of when I tune my 12-string guitar.
Surely spring has to be better, right? Let's see: take the kids for lots of walks; teach them how to play baseball; wean the 7-year-old off his dependence on the training wheels......
Tune in again in 6 months to read about how I managed to blow the warm weather as well.
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