That 7-Year-Old Had It Coming

So what does one do, on a cold Monday morning, when one is unemployed and financially unstable?

Well, if one happens to be as much of a rebel as I am, one might decide to drop everything and go skiing.

I mean, hell, I figure that if I'm totally going to end up destitute, fifty bucks ain't making or breaking NOTHIN', right?!?

Those of you long-time followers, you crazy bastards you, might remember when I broke my wrist snowboarding last February.

(Here I am post-ER visit, waiting to get hooked up with the good shit at CVS. Wasn't it sweet of Brian to capture this wonderful moment in time with a lovely photo?!? I'm kidding - I totally told him to take the photo. Why? Because that shit was BAD. ASS.)

Well, unfortunately, by the time my wrist healed, the snow was long gone from the pocono area. So I essentially missed out on that opportunity to "get back up on that horse"

And I dunno....maybe it was the inability to conquer my deamons or the hard wack on the ole' noggin or a husband who would prefer his wife more up and about and less broken and whiney for 8 some-odd weeks, but this year? We decided to give snowboarding a rest.

So today, properly equipped with a helmet and brand new gloves with built-in wrist supports and a doting husband who watched me like a hawk, I got back on that horse.

And by horse, I mean snow-covered mountain of death.

It was fun :-)

Skiing is, in so many ways, both easier and safer than snowboarding.

For example, at no point in time was I like, "holy god, I'm going to have to take this 7-year-old kid out if I want to have any chance of stopping before I hit that ski lift."

Which was nice, for a change.

Also, at no point in time did I break my wrist, so...bonus points right there.

And in the end, I decided that if I HAVE to plummet to sure death on the side of a mountain, I'd prefer to do it with my legs strapped into TWO thin boards of wood and fiberglass instead of one.

Go Team Ski.

So now I'm home, utterly sore and tired from my day on the mountain.

And sure, I still don't have a job. Sure, tomorrow I'm going to get up and cry into my Honey Bunches of Oats because I have no reliable source of income, and I pretty much failed at life and even the dogs don't seem to have any respect for me anymore, and then I'll play "Everybody Hurts Sometimes" by R.E.M. and sit in the dark and remember what it was like when I was a contributing member of society, and then maybe I'll do the dishes, because even losers like a clean kitchen once in a while.

But at the end of the day I'm STILL happier than when I was working a 9 to 5 job.

Not to mention the fact that I still have two intact wrists.