It's been awhile since I've had something meaningful to write about...
Now I do, so I am going to share. If you are squeamish, leave the room and come back with a beer for me and anyone else who wants one. Or a soda.... Or a fruit smoothie....
Ah hell... there's nothing to be squeamish about...
I went skiing today with a female friend of mine and things were grand all morning. We had new snow and sunshine and I was pounding the chunky powder pretty good.
After lunch, we went back at it and I noticed something odd with my skis. I couldn't set an edge with my left ski. The ski was WOBBLY and it wasn't me. A couple of screw had come loose that held my bindings to my skis.
Now I don't know about you, but BINDINGS means "to be bound" where I come from. Not loose and wobbly.
I told the girl I was skiing with I'd ski the easy runs with her and stay off the steep and chunky stuff but I'm not good at going slow so I got going really fast. Then I went to stop with a hard left turn into what I call a "hockey stop" but my left wobbly ski would not bite the snow so I had to use my top ski and try and bite the snow and this wasn't as effective and I ended up just laying it down and into a slide...
This would have been fine except that the left ski popped off and flipped up on its edge.
This would have been fine too except that I landed on this edge and if you've ever felt the edge of a good ski you'll know that it's pretty sharp. It cut through my ski pants and through my bicycle shorts I like to wear beneath them (the chamois seat pad acts as a ball warmer) and into my skin. I felt the cut as soon as it happened but it was on my ass so it didn't hurt.
I told my ski gal that I was done for the day, and that she was welcome to finish out the last hour of skiing-- I'd simply wait in the truck.
When I got to the truck I put my hand back where the cut was and it came back excessively bloody.
Oh crap. The cut was bigger and deeper than I thought.
Luckily, I keep incontinence pads in the truck for Mum and one of these slapped over my ass was perfect to act as a makeshift giant bandage, which I sat on (which was just what the first aid manuals tell you to do- keep the pressure on the wound...
I took an hours nap and my ski gal and I drove the hour and a half back to my place.
When we got there I pulled out the pad to show her how clever I was and it looked like.... well.... you girls with heavy flows know what I'm sayin'...
My ski gal was shocked, so to shock her more, I pulled down my pants for her to see the wound and I wasn't expecting the "OH MY GOD!" that I got, but apparently I had quite the gash.
I wanted to say "It's just a scratch" like they do in the movies so I did. She shook her head and told me I needed stitches.
"I have superglue" I told her.
So my evening was spent doubled over a couch with my pants down while her and my Mum helped each other superglue my ass back together. Apparently it was about a four inch long, deep gash - "I have gas" I kept telling them- and the operation was difficult, because they took a long time.
When it was all over my Mom kept saying "I like your ski gal" and I kept asking, "how does my ass look?"