Don't make me shoot my horse

As I was sitting in my stalled car (ambient temp outside 17) waiting for the tow truck, I had this song running through my head: http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=o7pVjl4Rrtc
I paraphrase but I did find myself sitting in a large automobile, watching the days go by.....and this was not my beautiful life!   But it is, because I can't bring myself to trade in my dying car.  To whit, she recovered after a brief rest in front of the Broadmeadow apartment complex and is scheduled for a checkup tomorrow.  Can she be saved?  It will probably take a new transmission.  Everyone, and I mean everyone is done with her.  Except me.

This could be a Texan thing but she does kinda feel like my horse.  She is steadfast in the snow and does not get pushed around by fuel efficient ponies.  She takes tons of gear and every dent and scratch has a damn good story.  Like the time she was crushed by a tree and we had to wait 3 months for a new top from the Midwest.....only one in the country.

So yeah, it might be time to start thinking about a more reliable car but let me say for the record, my heart is with the old one.

Lake Placid

I'm not sure what to say about the last couple of days that will not smack of hyperbole but I will start with THE BEST TWO DAYS EVER!

Luke was asked to train at Lake Placid in the classic winter sport of Badminton:)

We got to go along for the ride.  Yes, we were the only family who stayed overnight in the OTC (Olympic Training Center).  Yes, I was the only mom who got in the bobsled but his embarrassment was a small price to pay for THE BEST TWO DAYS EVER!

A huge shout out to Coach Chong for making this all happen and for his sang froid in dealing with my absolute giddiness:

Coach:  Was that you in the cardio room at 8:30 last night?
Me:  Yes, is it just for the athletes?
Coach:  No (Bit of a heavy pause), good for you

A certain someone who was indeed in the cardio room teared up looking at a signed picture of a luger from 1982.  You could feel the Olympic energy, I swear it!

Lake Placid is magical, and we went into hyper overdrive and saw the ski jump, ran, skated. bobsledded, and skeletoned.  Scott and Emma also fit in a bit of soccer.

I dropped out of college for a bit to see if I was good enough to make an Olympic cycling team.  Oh, I was not even close but I will never regret that dream.  This week, as we watched all athletes compete in Sochi, and visited the Olympic Museum in Lake Placid, and watched our bobsled driver smoke a butt....Magic, pure magic.

Go to Lake Placid if you get the chance.  It will remind you of your dreams and your age, all in the same second.  BEST TWO DAYS EVER:)

Snapshots from a snowy day

Another glorious snow day. Everyone home safely, three channels of Olympics and all the great poetry here: www.poetryfoundation.org. Maxine Kumin recently died who was best friends with Anne Sexton. She wrote this when Sexton committed suicide:

How it is

Shall I say how it is in your clothes?
A month after your death I wear your blue jacket.
The dog at the center of my life recognizes
you’ve come to visit, he’s ecstatic.
In the left pocket, a hole.
In the right, a parking ticket
delivered up last August on Bay State Road.
In my heart, a scatter like milkweed,
a flinging from the pods of the soul.
My skin presses your old outline.
It is hot and dry inside.

I think of the last day of your life,
old friend, how I would unwind it, paste
it together in a different collage,
back from the death car idling in the garage,
back up the stairs, your praying hands unlaced,
reassembling the bits of bread and tuna fish
into a ceremony of sandwich,
running the home movie backward to a space
we could be easy in, a kitchen place
with vodka and ice, our words like living meat.

Dear friend, you have excited crowds
with your example. They swell
like wine bags, straining at your seams.
I will be years gathering up our words,
fishing out letters, snapshots, stains,
leaning my ribs against this durable cloth
to put on the dumb blue blazer of your death.
--Maxine Kumin

I found in my husbands closet a pair of slippers that my grandmother knit for him. Her way of communicating was to make something for you. These slippers said welcome to the family. My husband has kept them all these years. He has an active way of communicating without words, as well.

My mom sent me beautiful tulips and irises for valentines day. They brighten up this snowy day. Things are good. A glorious,snow day.

Happy birthday love

We headed up to Vermont to celebrate Scott' s 50th.....or 32nd based on the number of things I was actually able to pull together for the birthday bag.


Conditions were a little icy on the mountain but our glasses were so fogged, we couldn't tell. And you know what? We kicked ass. Well, Scott did. I was trying to "be the snow". Turns out it is tricky to ski when you can't see. But 50 teaches you to flourish under less than optimal conditions. Happy birthday love!