Mushroom Metaphor...

I happened to catch this pair of mushrooms growing in my yard and I thought "Now THERE is a metaphor!"

Sort of like "don't let the grass grow beneath your feet"- that sort of thing.

Well... I've been out biking, tryking, unicycling, skiing, tree climbing and running a large chainsaw since I last posted.

There are no mushrooms growing out of the top of my head as far as I can tell (not as much hair either!)

I have this new weight dilemma which is requiring me to rethink some basic thoughts. It used to be "I can drink beer if I weigh under 250."

The trouble is, I've been doing so many things with my legs I've added ten or more pounds of muscle mass to them, which pushed me over the 250 mark without my getting any chubbier.

So do I go for skinny legs and beer? Or change my scale? I'm gonna have to sit down with a beer and work that one out one day...

Mt. Ashland opened last Friday and I went with my female friend that I skiied with last season. She's a super-fit and able-bodied fifty year old blonde who loves to chop her own firewood and talk about sex.

Last year, I had to ask her to refrain while on the lifts because I kept crashing right after, unable to focus on the ski bumps- they kept turning into breasts...

I was in the brew-and-pizza pub the other night and a couple I know were in there. "Who'd you ski with?" they asked.

I told them.

"Lots of blonde hair, likes to talk about sex all the time?"

"That's her."

"We went on a rafting trip with her for four days. By the end of it, my wife was livid with her."

"I was! Her and my husband spent the whole trip talking about sex. Sex sex sex... And the worst part of it was, THEY KEPT AGREEING with each other!"

I know when to step out of a domestic dispute so I did about then...

I was reminded, though, of a conversation I had with my ski partner other than about sex while on the lift. It was- of course- about beer.

"There was this really cool couple on a rafting trip I went on last summer. They were really great until late in the afternoon, when they both got really drunk on beer and would start fighting..."

It's a small world after all...

--- This year I tried out my new used skiis. I scored two pairs of "modern" skiis for essentially five bucks plus 20 bucks for a wax kit to slick them up. They're both shorter and sportier than my old downhills and I found myself able to ski straight down the black diamond runs (lots of short, sporty turns to control speed). All the added muscle in my legs and the reduction of weight in my belly was a great help in this endeavor, and I could get to the bottom of the run and back on the lift without the always present and dreaded thigh-burn I suffered through last season.

Hot Dog! I'm now a hot dog skiier once again!

Some 13 year old deer hunting kid shot a 140 pound male Cougar here in Selma last month. I tell you this now because I was starting a fire the other day and read about it in the newpaper. I clipped out the photo to upload but my scanner isn't hooked up after creating this new computer desk. I used to spend much time alone on my bike in the woods, rehearsing survival strategies and "what-ifs" in the event of a cougar attack.

"Cover my neck with one arm and POKE'EM! in the eyes!"

Now I see my mental rehearsals were well-founded.

A couple of pics off my new camera--