Connecting (or not) with Pets

RIP Sparky, 2007-2014.

RIP Sparky, 2007-2014.

Sparky the Guinea Pig died a few days ago. Actually, I had her euthanized. Her back legs stopped working. She didn’t seem in pain or anything – was still eating and drinking as usual. She just couldn’t move very well.

Sparky is a girl piggy that we bought almost seven years ago at the insistence of my youngest son, who wanted another pet. She’s been healthy and sweet for all that time, except for her recent development. Since Sparky was ancient for a guinea pig, and because I am the one who has been caring for her all that time, I wasn’t keen on going to heroic measures to save her. I did spend time doing Internet research on her condition and discovered it could be caused by many factors but a calcium deficiency was the most likely in our case. By the time I discovered that, she had been ill for about four days — it took a while to figure out what was going on because she didn’t move around much to begin with.

The instructions described use of a liquid form of calcium designed for human consumption. I called around all the local pharmacies, but couldn’t find any available. I found some through mail order, but that would have taken several days to arrive, and I wanted something soon. I described Sparky’s plight to a friend and she found that Pet Co had liquid calcium, so I went there the same day. But when I got to the store, the supplements they had for guinea pigs didn’t have any calcium in them, so I ended up buying one designed for lizards. I mean, calcium is calcium, right?

We did the three-day course of treatment, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. And now, Sparky was moving around even less, so that she wasn’t getting enough water to drink unless I moved her over to her bottle. That’s no way for her to live, so, call me heartless, I made the appointment to have her euthanized.

When the time came, I packed her in a box filled with a deep comfy layer of bedding and went to the vet. I filled out the paperwork and handed her over without a fuss or any desire to see her through the procedure. The experience was markedly different from when I had to have my cat of 14 years euthanized. For that, I was a blubbering pile of Marie goo. It got me thinking about what made the difference.

I suspect one reason is that I never really connected with Sparky. I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t “get” guinea pigs. I had never had one before, and although we read books about them, the emotional connection wasn’t there. The cute “popcorn” jumps they do just seemed spastic. In the beginning, we took Sparky out to cuddle and let her roam around, but she had a habit of peeing in one’s lap and she nipped hard with her beaver-like teeth. So that didn’t help. About a year after we got Sparky, we got our dog, Buddy. We were worried about his reaction to her, so we took Sparky out less often after that.

Another reason is that she was my son’s pet, so I felt like it was his responsibility to connect with her more than mine. And he did try, but as he got older and busier, that fell by the wayside and Sparky’s care fell to me. She became an obligation, not a joy.

I feel bad that I never connected with Sparky. I can connect to dogs, cats, birds, and even fish. (I taught my catfish to wink at me.) We had a hamster once, and I never connected with him, either. Maybe I’m just not a rodent person. Have you ever had a pet you didn’t connect with? Do you think there are just some types of pets you aren’t designed for? I’d be interested to hear.

This Blog: A Retrospective

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I’ve been writing this blog for well over a year now, and it feels time for a retrospective. I didn’t want to do it in January because every other blogger was doing that, and I’ve never been one to follow the crowd. Besides, with the spring thaw, it finally feels like a new season and a safe time to look back.

I started this blog in late January 2013 to keep my creativity alive through a record-cold winter and as a way to escape the mental and physical cage such cold presents. But I also began it because I wanted a more personal outlet for my writing – one where I was freer to express myself and describe some of the weird things that happen. My day job (of science writing) and my night job (of novel writing) don’t always allow for that.

I did not start this blog to make friends (although that is a nice side-effect) or to inspire legions. If that were the case, I’d have more than 76 followers and 3,000 views. Actually, I do have a rather devoted following among my Facebook friends, which is where I get most of my feedback and conversations about the stories. For that I am grateful and appreciative. It’s always nice to know someone is paying attention! Between Facebook and my blog followers, each story has the potential to reach 240 people.

Although most of my readers are from the U.S., I’m amazed by the foreigners who find this blog. Word Press (my blog hosting platform) offers a statistics page where bloggers can see the countries of origin that have visited their site and which stories are popular. Every few weeks my son puts up with reports like, “Someone from Serbia visited my blog today.” He just rolls his eyes. But the tally is impressive: Portugal, United Arab Emirates, Brazil, New Zealand, Sweden, Germany, Australia, the Philippines, India, Lithuania, Ireland, etc.

The most popular posts have been:

Living for the Dead, where I wrote about former friend Matt Link after going to a presentation about him. I think its popularity is because his father and stepmother shared the story on Facebook, and they have a large following.

Cold as a Cage, was my first entry, which I shared widely by email and Facebook to publicize the start of my blog.

Minnesota Nice Meets Hollywood, which was based on a church sermon that I shared with my fellow-church-goers through Facebook.

Why I’m Giving up Bottled Water, is popular perhaps because many others are considering doing the same thing, and they found my story through web searches.

and

Old Wood: A Love Story, Part 1 and Part 2, which told the story of some local folks who were on the television series Ax Men last year. Every time the show aired, people did a slew of web searches for their names, and my blog popped up.

I intend to continue Marie’s Meanderings for the time being. It’s fun and it doesn’t take much time. I hope you are enjoying it, too. Please feel free to comment. Since I am so famous and important now (smirk), it might take me a day or two to reply, but I am paying attention.

Thank you.

Marie

Adventures in Diner Decor

OldManPrayingI embarked on a lunchtime adventure today at work. I forgot to bring food from home, so I decided to visit a nearby bar in Superior, Wis., owned by a friend of a friend. I discovered the bar didn’t serve food. Since I wanted to be able to think and continue working during the afternoon, I opted against a liquid alcohol lunch. I visited a diner a few doors down.

I love diners. They each have distinctive personalities and they’re always very “human”—reflecting the local culture. This one was no different. Mickey Mouse memorabilia provided the main décor theme, with a few other classics thrown in, including the “old man praying with bible and bread” picture (I think it’s called “Grace” or “Daily Bread,” or something like that). An interesting combination, I must say. I remember the old man artwork from my youth. I suspect one set of my grandparents displayed it in their home. I would never have thought to hang him next to Mickey Mouse.

MMouse

A respectable number of people filled the booths. They were older and had the look of locals – casual dress, boots, and warm winter jackets. They looked like people who had been coming to this diner for a long time; people who could go elsewhere – to a franchise eatery or a fast-food restaurant, but they chose this place because it’s familiar and it’s in their neighborhood. They rested in their seats like birds home from a long migration.

The waitress looked like she’d seen better days. She was skinny with graying hair, a hangdog look, and walked with her hands stuck stiffly into her fleece jacket pockets, elbows locked. The food was good, though, as it usually is in such establishments. This diner served breakfast all day, so I got my favorite two eggs over-easy with sausages and hash browns. Hold the toast. What I liked most is that the hash browns were fluffy – not bogged down with grease. It proved to me once and for all that local diners do not survive on their décor alone.

 

 

Minnesota Nice Meets Hollywood (and it isn’t pretty)

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The minister at my church gave a sermon on “Minnesota Nice” last Sunday. When he read the Wikipedia definition of it, my mouth almost dropped open. (If I wasn’t Minnesotan, my mouth would have dropped ALL the way open.) He was describing a great deal of my personality:

Minnesota nice is the stereotypical behavior of people born and raised in Minnesota to be courteous, reserved, and mild-mannered. The cultural characteristics of Minnesota nice include a polite friendliness, an aversion to confrontation, a tendency toward understatement, a disinclination to make a fuss or stand out, emotional restraint, and self-deprecation. It can also refer to traffic behavior, such as slowing down to allow another driver to enter a lane in front of the other person. . . . Some traits typical of this stereotype are also generally applied to neighboring Wisconsinites and Canadians. Similar attributes are also ascribed to Scandinavians, with whom Minnesotans share much cultural heritage.

I never knew Minnesota nice had its own Wikipedia entry. I’ve read books and watched the movie (“How to Talk Minnesotan”), but I’d never seen the personality type spelled out so clearly before. The minister went on to explain what Scandinavian traditions could have inspired this behavior and how they are rooted in “the good of the group” mentality. In general, people were supposed to work together and not call attention to themselves for the betterment of everyone.

Although not Scandinavian, I am a fifth-generation Minnesotan. The Minnesota nice philosophy has had plenty of time to seep up into my ancestors and me from the soil. It’s been absorbed into my family from neighbors and community. I’ve found I have to work to overcome it in a greater society that values individualism and charisma. Self-deprecation, after all, makes it difficult to find a job, sell a product or attract a mate (unless that mate is also into Minnesota nice and recognizes it for what it is). I’ve also found I measure people from the perspective of Minnesota nice. I mistrust anyone who is too confident or self-promoting. I suspect they do it to cover up insecurities, but it also goes against the code of Minnesota nice.

I and another co-worker once took a news producer from Hollywood on an overnight trip up the North Shore of Lake Superior to the famed Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness to film a spot for “Good Morning America.” That man could talk, and self-promote.

By the next day, when we were driving back to civilization, he could tell he was out of place. He complained that I and my coworker (also a Minnesotan) didn’t talk enough. “Maybe we don’t have anything to say,” was the reply. He didn’t know how to deal with that. We weren’t trying to be mean — we had been worn out by talking over the course of his tour and didn’t know how to relate to his foreign personality type. He gave up after that and we rode along in blissful silence — blissful for us, awkward for him.

Back to the sermon. The point of it was that Minnesota nice isn’t enough. It’s too constricting and confining – allows for too little self-love. There’s got to be a happy medium between self-sacrifice for the good of the group and self-love that promotes a fulfilling life. I’d like to think that I’ve learned this during my life, sometimes the hard way. Although it goes against my nature, I can brag when I have to, and I’ve learned how to appreciate certain traits and aspects of my personality. But I doubt I’ll ever feel comfortable around people like Mr. Hollywood.

I’m Somebody Now!

Web ImageI just finished creating my author web site. I’m so excited – I feel like Steve Martin’s character Navin in the movie “The Jerk,” when he finds his name in the phone book for the first time:

Navin R. Johnson: The new phone book’s here! The new phone book’s here!

Harry Hartounian: Boy, I wish I could get that excited about nothing.

Navin R. Johnson: Nothing? Are you kidding? Page 73 – Johnson, Navin R.! I’m somebody now! Millions of people look at this book everyday! This is the kind of spontaneous publicity – your name in print – that makes people. I’m in print! Things are going to start happening to me now.

I have my own web site! I’m somebody! Whether or not things start happening because of it depends, I guess, on my efforts to make it visible (hence this blog posting, heh heh).

I’ve been my own Realtor, divorce lawyer, tax preparer, and now web designer. Of these, I am most proud of the web designer title. Creating the site was my New Year’s resolution, and it took this long for me to decide what to say and to work through all the technical difficulties associated with it.

But it’s up, it’s out in the world, even better than the phone book! If you’d like to know more about me and my writing, please take a look at http://www.marieZwrites.com. You can even pre-order my new eco-mystic romance novel, “Plover Landing,” due out this summer.

Living for the Dead

Matthew Link

It’s easy to spot Matt among the groomsmen in this photo.

So I’m going to write about another dead person. I’m not trying to be morose or anything – it’s just that the events honoring these two men happened back-to-back. The previous event honored journalist Larry Oakes and was the subject of my last blog. Last night’s event was in memory of Matthew Link, a friend who died twenty-five years ago.

Matt’s father and stepmother gave a presentation at the Duluth Pack Store as part of its Tuesday night Outdoor Adventure series. They spoke about their trip to New Zealand – both the sights it provided and the closure it gave them regarding Matt’s death. He died in a kayak accident while participating in an outdoor pursuits school there.

Matt was my then-husband’s best friend. Four months before he died, he was best man in our wedding, and we ended up naming our son after him. A modern-day Viking, Matt was big, blond, and strong. He was always ready for adventure, sociable, and he was a good friend to my husband. Matt grew up at a nature center his parents directed in Minnesota, so he was no stranger to the outdoors, and he sought that type of life as a future profession.

The phone call in the winter of 1989 telling us that Matt died was surreal. It was one of those events that mark your life; there was the time when Matt was alive and the time when he was not. The world would never be the same for his friends and family. Many of us have struggled to find a way through life without his commanding physical presence. Making things more difficult was the postcard we received from Matt a week after he died. He must have mailed it from New Zealand just before his fateful kayaking trip.

Matthew Link

Matt and his girlfriend Beth discuss the confusing intricacies of my marriage certificate.

His father and stepmother couldn’t afford to go to New Zealand at the time, which is what made their current trip all the more meaningful and necessary. Instead, Matt’s ashes were flown back and his family, including his biological mother, hosted several ceremonies for him. I recall a bonfire and Ojibway pipe ceremony on Park Point in Duluth, and a church service. After the service, we trudged through the cold snow to free his ashes into the St. Louis River, one of his favorite kayaking waterways.

Matt’s funeral was the first one I attended where I was emotionally invested in the person who died. The service befitted him, which made it all the harder not to bawl. After a point, I just gave up trying to hide the tears. And when they played one of Matt’s favorite songs, “It’s a Wonderful World,” by the gravelly voiced Louis Armstrong, I just totally lost it. To this day, that song is my trigger – tears for every occasion. So if you’re ever in an airport when a Wonderful World comes over the Muzak system and you notice a woman sobbing as you walk by, that’s probably me!

On their trip, Matt’s dad/stepmother visited the school he was attending and met some of the people who knew him. They got to see his dorm room and Matt’s father even had the guts to visit the site where he died. His father explained that the hole that Matt left is too large for total closure but that he did find partial closure through their journey.

His parents, including his mother who lives in Alaska now, strive to live lives worthy of Matt’s spirit and I guess that’s something we can all do to honor departed loved ones. Assuming your departed was as cool as Matt: would they be happy with how you are living now? Are you living up to your best potential? It’s something to think about. If living for yourself isn’t working, consider living for them.

Remembering Larry Oakes

Larry Oakes

A few days ago, when most of the rest of the world was watching the Olympic opening ceremonies, I joined about seventy other people at an evening tribute for a noted Minnesota journalist. Larry Oakes was a reporter for the Minneapolis Star Tribune and before that, the Duluth News Tribune. He covered the crime beat and northern Minnesota stories.

Back in the 1980s, he was a few years ahead of me in journalism school. By the time I became the environmental reporter for the college newspaper (the Minnesota Daily), he had already moved on to an internship with the Minneapolis paper, and his name was legend among the Daily staff.

I didn’t meet Larry in person until I ended up back in Duluth working as a water science writer for the university’s Minnesota Sea Grant program. I was on the other end of the journalism profession now – a public relations hack who was trying to convince journalists to write about my organization’s research. We had lunch a few times as colleagues to talk over story ideas. Every time, I came away bowled over by his experience, not to mention his square-jawed good looks.

Some of my story ideas worked for him, some didn’t. That’s the way it goes. I do recall that Larry and a local radio news director, Mike Simonson, were especially helpful with one of the most popular stories of my career (so far!), which involved organizing a taste testing event for Great Lakes sea lamprey. We got the mayor together with the university chancellor and some other notable locals to taste dishes prepared by a volunteer gourmet chef who cooked lamprey several different ways for ratings.

After Larry married, he showed up at the same birthing class that my former husband and I were taking. Unfortunately, his wife was too sick from her pregnancy to attend, so I never met her. I felt sorry for him going through the classes alone, so I stood in as his partner sometimes when the activities required one. As the years passed, we also met at funerals and other local events. I recall thinking that Larry looked really rough at some of these events. I wondered if he had an illness or some other problem.

As it turns out, he suffered from depression and he also ended up having a stroke. Although he recovered enough from the stroke to resume his writing career, friends say he was never the same after it. In the end, the combination of factors and other things that perhaps only he knows were too much, and he took his life a year ago.

A journalism scholarship was created in his name at the University of Minnesota Duluth. The event I attended (instead of watching the Olympics) was to celebrate the creation of the scholarship and its first student recipient. I had mixed feelings watching the recipient (who wore the requisite gray vest of a journalist for the event). I was excited that he has this opportunity to help with his schooling, also scared for him. Starting out in anything is so hard. There’s always the conflict between what you want and what society will let you do. The process of figuring out your place can be terrifying, and well, depressing. But society has given him this chance, and hopefully, it’s what he really wants to do with his life.

The weird thing about the event was that I ended up sitting next to Gail, who was Larry’s hairstylist of over twenty years. I didn’t recognize her at first until I remembered I sat next to her at Larry’s funeral, also. It says something about Larry’s character that he went to the same stylist for so long — something about loyalty, friendship, and respect. Gail was lovely to talk to, and she and her friend kept me company until my friend for the evening arrived.

The world lost a great writer when depression took Larry. Although he sought help, it didn’t work for some reason. The heavy hands of depression have molded my family, my friends, and me. I lost my adopted sister to it; my father suffers from it and even at ninety-five is on depression medication. I have experienced bouts of situational depression, mainly tied to the impossible personal relationships that seem my specialty.

For me, depression is a signal that something needs changing, and that I either need to figure out how best to do that, or I need to let things run their course and just hang in there until they change. Some things I can handle myself. Some things the world needs to handle, and I need to have the wisdom to let it happen. It’s sort of like starting out in your career. There are things you want and things society wants. Finding the balance between the two is the trick.

I can’t stress how much reaching out for help is important if you have depression. It doesn’t necessarily have to be help from a professional. Sometimes friends can be better. Don’t worry about burdening them. Keeping it all locked up inside you is what kills. Sharing the burden makes it lighter – spreads it around. The world has lost too many talented people to depression. Please don’t let yourself be the next one.

To Mine or Not to Mine?

Native copper. Image by Jonathan Zander, Wikimedia.

Native copper. Image by Jonathan Zander, Wikimedia.

That was the question I pondered along with about 1,500 other people and lots of rent-a-cops at a public meeting in Duluth last week. The project up for comments is an open-pit copper-nickel mine (a.k.a. sulfide mine) farther north near Ely, Minn., on the border of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. I have followed the development of this Polymet Corp. project for several (five?) years, trying to learn as much as I can to make informed comments as a concerned member of the community.

True to my blog’s name, this post is going to meander quite a bit as I try to gather my thoughts, so please bear with me. The problem is that copper sulfide mining has never been done successfully (from an environmental standpoint) in the U.S. These mines have a bad track record of long-lasting pollution. Even with all the new technologies the mining company proposes using with it, this mine will require 200-500 years of water treatment once its 20 years of life is over.

I was heartened to see so many people involved in the public meeting. It was well-organized and moderated. As is typical for public meetings about contentious issues, the open house portion of the meeting was designed to divide up the audience. The organizers provided tables staffed by people conversant in different specialties such as air quality, water quality, mercury, and wetlands. I had questions about how the acid-rain producing gasses from the waste rock were going to be handled, and ended up having conversations at four tables. I spoke with a consultant at the water quality table, who referred me for more information to the air quality table. They couldn’t answer my question, so referred me to the Polymet table. I also stopped at the “cultural resources” table (which was really the tribal table) just because I knew the people staffing it.

The public comment period followed, with everyone filling up a huge ballroom of the conference center. Guidelines for giving verbal comments were clearly spelled out in the meeting packet, and speakers (whose names were drawn at random) were given three minutes to say their piece. Groups of mining supporters in the audience sported royal blue round stickers (curiously, the same color as the Polymet staffers’ polo shirts), and environmental supporters wore round green stickers.

The thoughtfulness and thoroughness of people’s comments impressed me, as did the polite applause following each talk, no matter what viewpoint the speaker espoused. I heard that the applause got rowdier as the hours-long comment period progressed, but I had a dog to let out back at home, so I didn’t stay for the whole thing.

This is the mining company’s second try at an Environmental Impact Statement (EIS). The Draft EIS they released in 2009 was deemed inadequate by the state and federal agencies involved, so they issued a Supplemental Draft EIS. This version addresses some water quality concerns and waste tailings disposal issues. It also adds a necessary land exchange with the Superior National Forest, since the mine will impact National Forest lands.

If this EIS gets shot down, I’m not sure if the Polymet Corp. will get another do-over or not. What would that be called, I wonder – an Additional Supplemental Draft EIS? (Grin.)

But I have a feeling that even if the mining companies are required to add more details before the project can begin, they will complain, but they will do it. There’s a lot of money and profit riding on this project. And it’s not just this one mine – several others are in line behind it. The corporations are salivating over this copper-nickel vein, which is one of the richest untapped sources around.

As the Polymet project stands now, the mining company wants to use northern Minnesota as a guinea pig for some new techniques. Call me selfish, but I’d rather they practiced their techniques somewhere else first and proved them effective before using them here. The natural environment in that part of Minnesota is the most precious thing we have. It’s what gives the BWCA Wilderness the status of the most-visited wilderness in the lower 48 states. And this is not your grandpa’s iron ore mine — the type of pollution sulfide mines can produce is orders of magnitude different than the types an iron ore mine can produce, and this mine would be right near the wilderness.

I think that 500 years of maintenance for 20 years of jobs is too steep a price to pay for some copper. I thought it when I first heard about the project, and even with all the research and listening I’ve done that remains unchanged. Yes, I know that copper is vital for the functioning of society. Heck, I’m writing this on a computer, which I assume must have copper in it somewhere. But if we can’t extract copper without having to clean up the pollution from the operation for five centuries afterwards, maybe now is not the right time to be doing it. Maybe we should wait until mining methods improve enough that a legacy of pollution is not what’s left once the project is done.

Although the people I spoke with at the open house tables were all respectful and knowledgeable, I must admit, I trusted the folks at the tribal table the most. They are the ones that have the land and the environment as their number one priority. They are not pulled in as many competing directions as are the agency and corporate staffers.

The tribal comments are contained in Chapter 8 of the Supplemental EIS in a section reserved for “major differences of opinion.” One (of several) issues they raise is that an underground mining operation was not adequately considered. If the operation was kept totally underground, it would eliminate the impact to wetlands and surface waters, and it could limit the sulfide gas (acid-rain-producing) emissions from the site. The tribes argue that underground mining is technically feasible, “leaving only the lack of economic feasibility as the rationale used by the co-lead agencies to eliminate the alternative.”

I found the response by the co-lead agencies about underground mining arrogantly dismissive, and it backs up the tribal complaint: “The co-lead agencies believe that adequate consideration was given to the Underground Mining Alternative prior to eliminating it from further consideration . . . . “ Although they concede that an underground mine would offer “certain environmental benefits,” they contend that the “tonnage/volume and grade (amount of metals) of rock would not generate enough revenue to pay for all the costs associated with underground mining. Therefore, underground mining would not be economically feasible.”

But they offer no numbers. If I was grading this response on a school test paper, I would give it a “D” for “not showing your work.” I guess we’re just supposed to trust them on this. NOT. They also did not do a good job of “showing their work” on the details for the perpetual water treatment system that would need to be put into place.

Would Polymet find a way to make an underground mine feasible if that was the only alternative? I suspect so. If this copper mine is going to happen now with the technologies we have, this is the only alternative I would support, but this EIS gives no adequate justification for not taking that route other than “it costs too much.” I fear it will cost society and the environment too much if we don’t pursue an underground mine. Please, Minnesota Dept. of Natural Resources, send Polymet back to the drawing board!

Beware: X-C Ski Starvation Can Lead to Impaired Judgment

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I went cross-country skiing for the first time this season today. All the stars aligned this morning and pointed me in the direction of my favorite trail in the neighborhood where I grew up. I left my teenage son and his sleepover friend with some cinnamon rolls in the oven, waxed my skis, and took off in the car for the trail. I wanted to go alone because usually, my first seasonal ski is not pretty. There’s wheezing and fumbling, and it takes a while to work out the kinks and get back into the rhythm.

A few blocks from my house, I noticed sprinkles of rain on the windshield. Rain? It’s 25 degrees, how can it be raining? Come to think of it, the weather man said something about warmer air traveling over the snow and causing a chance for fog this weekend. I hoped it would just stay a misty sprinkle, because rain wreaks proverbial havoc on x-c ski trails.

As I continued driving, the rain gradually increased from a sprinkle to scattered rain drops. This is the point where a sensible person would have turned around and gone home. I was not sensible, however. I was cross-country ski starved.

For weeks, the beautiful snow had been beckoning, but other commitments caused me to ignore the beckoning. Our recent sub-zero temps also made my fingers not too keen on outdoor activities, especially after my snowblowing frostbite incident. But I love skiing. I grew up with it and desperately needed to do something to raise my heart rate above 70 bpm after falling into winter slothfulness.

So I kept going. When I arrived at the trailhead, I was heartened to see two other vehicles parked in the lot. I’m not the only crazy one. Plus, another car pulled in right behind me. A couple of snowshoers got out of one car, deflating my sense of joint craziness just a bit. Snowshoeing is much more sensible in this weather than skiing, after all. But it was re-inflated when another skier got out and started carrying her equipment to the trailhead. All right! A fellow crazy person.

I unloaded my skis and walked over to where she was putting on her skis. She had white hair and looked about ten years older than me — old enough to have much better judgment. We discussed the bad conditions but both agreed we wanted to try skiing anyway. I tested the conditions with one ski and quickly realized I needed to put on softer wax. As I was doing that, the lady skied down the trail but quickly returned, explaining her wax was not going to work in these conditions. I offered her the use of mine, but she declined, saying it was too slippery. She was going to give up and go home.

So maybe I am the only crazy one. Undaunted, I put on my skis and took off. It was slippery – I had to duck walk up the smallest of inclines. But I did have enough kick to get into a good rhythm on the flats. I snowplowed down the hills until I felt safe enough to get into the icy track for a slick ride down. I saw one other person going the opposite way and we both grinned at each other like ski-idiots.

I skied far enough to feel winded. When I returned to my car, it was coated in a layer of ice, and the rain had become heavier. No mistaking it for a sprinkle, now. I pried open the door and headed home. On the way, my car skated through one red light (at a thankfully empty intersection). I passed two cars that had crashed into snowbanks, and everyone was crawling along at half-speed.

But I survived and made it home. I can say I finally went skiing . . . and lived to tell about it.

Have Yourself a Very Lazy Christmas

Have yourself a very lazy Christmas.

Have yourself a very lazy Christmas.

Marie is too busy wrapping presents, running errands and finishing up her novel to write her blog during Christmas break, so I, Buddy the Wonderdog, am doing it for her. I hope you enjoy these photos, which contain my wishes and thoughts for you this season, wherever you may be.

Now, if I could only get Marie to take my advice…

Wishing you warmth.

Wishing you warmth.

Wishing you cuteness.

Wishing you cuteness.

Let Santa do all the work!

Let Santa do all the work!

May the new year be bright with hope.

May your new year be bright with hope.