Tropical vacations

I've only got a few minutes before 24 starts, but I wanted to get something up here for today. That way, as I'm trying to dig my way out of three days of missed work tomorrow, I won't feel too guilty about neglecting the blog until the afternoon.
So we are back in Boston, and I've got to tell you, it is FRICKIN' cold here! It was like 15 degrees or something when the plane landed this afternoon, and with the wind chill, it was 6 or so. It's just getting colder as the evening wears on, so we're comfortably bundled into our little house with the heater going, staying warm. For some perspective: it's colder here than it is more than a mile high in altitude in the Rocky Mountains. Tomorrow will be all about warming the car for 10 minutes before driving to work (more so since it's sat in the cold for five days); and realizing that it's back to the grind. Brian had his reality check last night when he got to thinking about school so much that he couldn't sleep, and I had mine this afternoon when I remembered that I had to go to work tomorrow.
But the big decision this weekend hinges on the future of vacations for the rest of our lives. No more winter activity vacations. We, from now on, travel only to tropical places where Brian can play golf and I can sit by the beach. Putting on and taking off all that ski/snowboard gear, carrying it back and forth, being cold, and waiting in lift lines has killed the joy of the ski vacation. Brian's proposal: we only golf and beach for vacation. I have to tell you, if it's that kind of choice, I'm totally in agreement.

Closing ceremonies

We'll be contentedly sitting in front of the television tonight for the Olympic closing ceremonies, eager to see what kind of fantastic events the Italians have planned, and to see the proverbial "torch" passed from Torino to Vancouver for the 2010 Games. (2010! Yikes! It'll be here before we know it!) Brian and I slept through Apolo Anton Ohno winning gold last night, and were barely awake for the bronze-medal relay, so we're feeling kinda bummed that we missed it. Is it the extra exercise from hitting the slopes that is making us so fricking tired by 10 p.m.? It's embarrassing! Anyway, we'll do our best to stay on the alert this evening, so we can at least say that we saw the American team carrying the flag into the closing ceremonies.
We all had an excellent breakfast this morning, and wandered around the downtown area of Steamboat Springs, then came back here for some afternoon napping and snacking. Dinner will be within walking distance -- all so we'll be here in enough time for the TV.
We are to be up bright and early tomorrow morning for the trip to the airport and then home. We're looking forward to heading back -- mainly because we miss the beast -- but also because one never sleeps so well as they do in their own bed.

24. Two enchiladas, taco

I got all kinds of sunburn on my face tonight. It's all about that crazy feeling of the skin being a bit too tight, feeling a bit too warm, and knowing that, even away from a mirror, it's a bit too red. But, even in light of that, we had a great day up on the mountain today. Brian, Howie and I tore it up at Steamboat, "cruising" as Howie likes to say, but having fun in anyone's vernacular. Really, it was a short day of skiing, since we didn't get all our stuff rented and up on the mountain until close to 10, and we were hungry and done about 1. I know, I know, that's a super short day, and a seeming waste of an all-day lift ticket -- but Howie got either ran into, brushed or startled by a snowboarder, and he fell down, thus effectively ending his good day; Brian's pained knee started acting up; and I was hungry. So we did lunch, came back to the condo to change, and then wandered around shopping in the resort area. I'm on the hunt for a sweatshirt that says, "Steamboat" across it (Sarah will appreciate that), and some sweatpants to wear back and forth to the gym.
Tonight for dinner, we feasted on yummy Mexican food. Mom and Howie ate until they were full, but me and B, the two who can't have good Mexican food whenever we want, ate until it was all gone, and we were full to bursting.

Toga! Toga!

Such a day today! Not a super whole lot went on, but it kept me busy enough that I wasn't able to blog at all; and that kind of action is simply unacceptable. Our cubicles at work were moved, so I spent a good portion of my day putting all my decor back up on new walls; reading and posting articles; attending meetings; and lunching with my peeps for Sarah's going away.
Tomorrow we head off to Steamboat. I'll try to get some stuff up here while we're there, as there's a business center in the condo complex.
But just in case you have to go a day or two without me, I'll give you a treat and post up a photo of the stage set for the upcoming Academy Awards show, airing March 5. I'm getting pretty excited for the show, and look forward to seeing how this ridiculously garish and wedding-cake-topper of a stage looks on live television. Can't you just see a cool Jack Nicholson, elegant Charlize Theron, super serious Joaquin Phoenix walking across it, or, even better, the musical act for "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" rocking out in this setting? About the only person who would fit in here is Reese Witherspoon, who's so cute and bubbly that she may just be the champagne along with this cake. .... .... Hmmmm. Actually, it's looking kinda Greek too, the more I study it. Perhaps the entire Oscar night will be some kind of toga party. Can we expect to see Otter, Flounder, Bluto and Boone in the background, or a pantless Donald Sutherland?

Lessons from the three-day weekend

Some people look at a three-day weekend as an opportunity to sleep in, have some drinks with friends, and get in trouble investigating fun-type outlets. Me? I see it as a chance to learn something new. Enhance your education: live the three-day weekend. Here's a random list of things I learned over my weekend, in no real order (even though they are numbered).
1.) Curling is so much better to watch if you really don't get the scoring system. It's an unnatural obsession we've developed, but B and I had curling on television as often as we could over the last three days. Even if it wasn't the U.S., it was better than other things on the tube. Brian tried to figure out the scoring online, but we decided that it's even more fun rolling through the whole thing oblivious.
2.) There are always people as stupid as you are. We figured that, on Sunday when the temperature reached a high of 14 or something, no one would consider walking around the open-air outlet center, so we would have the run of the place with no crowds or anything. We had to park in the outskirts of the lot, and ended up waiting 15 minutes for a table at lunch.
3.) Life, as a young maid/wannabe geisha, is pretty bad. I'm digging in to Memoirs of a Geisha, and have quite fallen in love with it. I'm about 200 pages in, and am eager to pick it up tonight. I can't wait to get farther in because Hatsumomo must, simply must, get hers in the end. Right?
4.) Appreciate your only-childness. If I had a younger sister as messed as Cameron Diaz in In Her Shoes, I might just strangle her. Movies like that, while emotionally touching, really help me out with the whole, "It would be nice to have a sister" thought process, and smack some sense into me.
5.) Shopping on a Monday is the best. There's little more decadent than knowing that some fools are at work while you and your friend are out cruising through shops, trying on clothes and having a beer before noon. I didn't come home with a lot, but the day was stellar and fantastic.
6.) Only having to work Tuesday and Wednesday makes coming back to work from a three-day weekend bearable. We're off to Steamboat Springs, Colo. Thursday morning for a weekend of skiing/snowboarding, eating out, and fun. Some people might use vacation days in the dead of winter to go somewhere tropical, warm and sunny, but not us ... nope, we go where there's more snow.

Crushing on Paul Walker

One of my movie star crushes, Paul Walker, has a new movie coming out today. While I try to catch most everything that he's in, I probably won't see Eight Below, since movies about animals beating the odds, facing hardships and ultimately triumphing make me sob. (And this one will end like that, people, it's a Disney movie.) He's pretty persuasive eye candy, but the emotional toll that I know the movie will take on me is keeping me far away.
If I were still in grade school or something, I'd be putting his picture up on my bedroom walls or in my locker, but since I'm a more mature, married woman, I'll instead just gush a little bit in my blog. Scroll through his movie list, which includes both the first and second Fast and Furious, She's All That, The Skulls, Timeline, and Into the Blue (a movie Brian was just as pleased to sit through, as it costarred Jessica Alba), and you'll find a list of instant classics that will cement Walker in pop culture history. Some nuggets you'll discover, should you choose to add these winners to your Netflix queue: he's not much of an Oscar-caliber actor (though each film seems to get better); he said "Bro," waaayyy too much in 2 Fast 2 Furious, but he said it with STYLE; he more than holds his own against rock-solid performances by Vin Diesel, Tyrese Gibson, Craig T. Nelson, Josh Brolin, and Freddie Prinze, Jr.; and his blue eyes are too dreamy.
Entertainment Weekly posted an interview with Walker yesterday, about the doggy movie and another R-rated film that comes out next week. Read it here. And after reading through it, maybe Running Scared is more me and B's speed. He's so pretty.

Snowboardcross

I spent most of the evening last night on the sofa watching Olympic action. My favorite event out of last night's offerings was "snowboardcross." The sport is a hybrid of snowboard racing and motorcross, where a foursome of boarders fly around turns, over jumps and through straightaways in a race to the finish line. Settling in to it, I thought, "Where, oh where, have I seen this before ... and ad nauseam?" Of course! It's Brian's SSX snowboarding video games come to life! Having established why I have a frightfully accurate idea of how this sport is to be raced properly, I sat back and enjoyed adding my own expertise to the race coverage ... of a sport that has kept me ass-to-the-snow every time I tried it.
My favorite part of the whole thing was how the commentators kept trying to settle down the "people at home" by continually explaining that, "Snowboardcross is a dangerous sport, and the racers do make contact. So should you see them bumping, THAT'S ALRIGHT, because it's part of the sport. DO NOT BE ALARMED if they run into each other. They understand that they have to continually jockey for their positions. That's all a part of this FAST AND DANGEROUS new Olympic sport, called snowboardcross." I swear, if they weren't cracking me up so much with their dire warnings and death-is-eminent predictions, I'd have muted them. All the same, it was nice to see the Americans kick butt and take home the gold.

Orca! Orca!

Those of you that have been with me for a while may recall fondly the "orca phase," when I had almost every orca picture I could find on the walls of my room: cool images taken by Wyland, Lassen, nature shows and the like. Realize that I still have a Lassen up in my living room, and the cool whale hanging statue in my office at home. I still love the orca, and always linger over articles, photos and stories about them. One of the biggest envies in my life is that Meredith was able to just get up and move to Washington, and pursue a desire to lead whale-watching expeditions and such, all to be closer to these amazing animals. (And then there's the movie, Orca, where a male killer whale chases and terrorizes Richard Harris and kills Bo Derek because Harris hunted the whale's mate, killed it, and washed their unborn whale baby off the boat deck.)
Anyway, per this morning's headlines, the Washington orcas are now listed as an endangered species, giving them even more federal protection than they enjoyed under the "depleted species" label. This from the AP: "Since 2002, the orcas have been protected under the Marine Mammal Protection Act, which kept them from being killed or harassed, but their listing under the Endangered Species Act gives them the highest protection available under the law." This new designation goes into effect Thursday. After that, any government agency looking to do anything in the area must have the National Marine Fisheries Service's permission, which will ensure that they won't harm the animals or their environment.
More from AP: "The three pods of orcas that live in Puget Sound from late spring through early fall, known as the southern resident orca population, total 89 whales. That's down from more than 100 in the middle of the last century but up from a low of 79 in 2002. The decline has been blamed on pollution and a drop in the population of salmon, their primary food."
Here's to hoping that they'll increase again with the additional protection.

"You may kiss the bug-infested bride"

ITEM!: My very romantic Valentine's Day consisted of leftovers out of the fridge for Brian, and me scrounging for something edible (chicken and stars soup, and a cinnamon-raisin English muffin), and a viewing of The Aristocrats, the documentary movie about a really dirty joke told by several comedians. I'd never heard the joke before, and went into this one blind -- completely blind. I thought it was relatively funny (Brian certainly enjoyed it more than I), and I could probably go the rest of my life without hearing anyone ever tell the joke to me in person.

ITEM!: Oh, this one is fun. Yesterday, in a romantically creepy wedding, the Scorpion Queen and the Centipede King got married. This is their official wedding photo. Kanchana Ketkaew, 36, set a world record in 2002 for spending 32 days in a glass cage with 3,400 scorpions (it was broken in '04); and 29-year-old Bunthawee Siengwong set a Thai record for enduring 28 days with 1,000 centipedes. Kanchana's bridal gown was adorned with live scorpions, while Bunthawee enticed his bride by placing a centipede in his mouth. Howie always told me that there's someone for everyone. This is true love at its best.

ITEM!: Pink's new album, I'm Not Dead, is dropping in stores on April 4, and I'm super excited about it. Have you seen her video for "Stupid Girls"? Watch it here. Classic satire based on our favorite tabloid celebutantes and waifs, it skewers most everyone. The CD, I'm sure, will be so worth the wait since we last heard from her in Try This. Pink's never shied away from the controversial topics, and writes from the heart, so this more topical CD should be interesting. (The only other song's name that has been released is, "Dear Mr. President.") Ever since I've really dug into the iTunes, I've denied myself the expensive pleasure of buying actual CDs, and have filled up from the $.99-per-song Web site, but as with Brit, U2, Madonna, and Barenaked Ladies, I'll be putting forth the extra cash for the actual disc.

ITEM!: Lastly, contrary to rumor, and a certain magazine cover (left), Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes have not broken up (or SPLIT!). Really, I'm getting pretty bored with the whole "TomKat Watch," and would prefer that the couple either actually do something to earn their place on a rag's cover, or do us all a favor and quietly slip into nothingness.

A belated valentine

I have no idea where, or why, the obsession with David Hasselhoff began ... well, actually, I do ... it was the PowerPoint presentation making the rounds a year or two ago, but as much as this blog has become about everything, it also is about the Hoff.
I know that it's the day after Valentine's, but Melissa came through with this gem of a Valentine's card for me this morning, and it just has to get up here for the world to see.

Wal-Mart goes "morning after"

Well, I've hit on guns and hunting this week, so I guess the next logical course of action would be to tackle contraception. It's all in my ongoing effort to piss off the religious right. Today, I say "Wahoo!" to the Massachusetts state government for requiring that Wal-Mart carry the morning-after pill at all its pharmacies and Sam's Clubs in the state. Wal-Mart is way too big of a company, institution, what have you, to be trying to moralize the people of this country on contraception. They sell condoms, yes? That, in itself, goes against the teachings and preachings of the Catholic church, so why should the morning-after pill be treated differently?
Three women in Massachusetts sued the company because it did not stock the pills, arguing that state policy requires pharmacies to provide all "commonly prescribed medicines." The state board that oversees pharmacies voted to require that Wal-Mart carry the drug. A letter has been sent to Wal-Mart, who has until Thursday to provide written compliance. According to the company spokesman, the company hadn't yet received the letter, but will comply with the edict. Until now, Wal-Mart carried the pills in Illinois only, where it is required to by state law. Why all the brouhaha? The company has said that it, "chooses not to carry many products for business reasons," but does not elaborate more than that. (And let's not even get started on the fact that they sell guns, too.)

St. Valentine was beheaded

According to romantic legend, Saint Valentine was a kind-hearted Roman priest who married young couples against the wishes of Emperor Claudius II, and was beheaded for his deeds on the 14th of February. We celebrate his death by keeping Hallmark in business; paying astronomical prices on flowers; binging on chocolates; and having sex with our significant others (or whoever the single people may pick up that night). Also, and contradictorily, the legend of Valentine's Day can be attributed to several other stories, and no one knows exactly why February 14 was selected to honor the man, myth and legend. Cupid's association hinges on his role played in stories of love and passion, and has nothing to do with the saint or date listed above.
When I worked in Phoenix, my daily commute took me past a flower shop. Every morning, the marquee outside the shop would advertise the seasonal flowers and their cost. Once Feb. 1 came around though, the "dozen red roses" listing would begin its inevitable rise skyward. A dozen roses in mid-January costs $9.99 or so, but by the time Feb. 13 and 14 came along, the price had taken off into the atmosphere, and was listed around $35.99 or more. This disgusted, and continues to disgust, me. My abhorrence for the increased flower hike was solidified again last night when, on my way home from the gym and passing the flower stand, I saw more than 15 men standing in line, with their wallets out and sporting browbeaten expressions, all of them seemingly wondering how far they would have to bend over to keep their girls happy this year.

Hunter is shot; quail rejoice

I love how indignant hunters get when they get shot. I love that they get all, "I can't believe that I was minding my own business out in the woods and some guy shot me!" Hmm. Irony? I think so. I love that we can all say, "Dude! Now you know how it feels to be all sifting through the underbrush, looking for yummy treats, and to have someone shoot you ... with bullets!" I love that, in this case, the hunter lost the contest.
Here's the story: this weekend, Dick Cheney accidentally shot one of his hunting partners during a quail hunt at a ranch near Kingsville, Texas, where the v.p. goes shooting once a year. (This image is not from the incident.) The victim, 78-year-old Harry Whittington, who is in stable condition, had apparently dropped back in the party to pick up his kill, and upon returning to the group without advertising his presence, was accidentally shot by the vice president. Whittington was "peppered" in the face and chest with birdshot from 30 yards away. He never lost consciousness, and was immediately aided by the v.p., the secret service detail, and an ambulance that apparently follows Cheney around from place to place. Whittington was a guest of the ranch's owner, and may or may not have ever met the v.p. before (reports depend on the news outlet reporting).
More than this being a Republican thing about Cheney (although this happening to the pro-NRA guy who thinks the country absolutely must have big automatic weapons on the streets and in homes does add some ironic glee for me), it's more of an animal-hunting fairness issue. It's like the bullfighter who gets gored: the bull wins! In this instance, I feel like it's all the dead birds' karmas committing some kind of vengeance against the hunting party.
Seriously, I think that before anyone is issued a hunting license, they should be shot somewhere -- somewhere relatively unimportant, but somewhere -- so they know what it feels like to be struck by a bullet (or pellets, as the case may be). Under those restrictions, out of that party, only Whittington should be able to ever hunt again, since he knows how is feels to be "peppered," bagged and tagged.

Sunday morning

Okay, okay. So they were right this time. Still, it was super fun being the only voice of pessimism; the only person to say, "Foo," to the snow reports; and half of the only couple in the region that wasn't sure to get to the grocery store yesterday. It's all good though, because once we venture out again, I'm sure we'll find someplace open for lunch and/or provisions.
At any rate, we woke up to a good four inches of snow this morning, and the promise of more throughout the day. (The photo is of Oliver's romping in this morning's snow.) As of now, there's little going on outside except for the absolute silence of a heavy snowfall and the occasional rumbling of a snowplow going by. Brian's curled up on the sofa watching television, I just finished watching The Chronicles of Riddick for the 50th time, and Oliver is playing with a toy, so life in the G household is going to survive this "extreme snow weather" just fine ... once we get something to eat.

A snitful of snow

We're supposed to get a huge dump of snow here this weekend; anywhere from five to 12 inches, according to meteorologists' predictions. (Here's the satellite image of clouds currently building over the Northeast.) I don't know, but I think I may declare shenanigans on this one. I mean, how many times have they told us to get ready for some "extreme blizzard" this winter, and had it turn into nothing but an inch or two of quickly melting snow? Well, most of you don't know that answer, so let's just say that it's happened quite a bit. But at the mention of predictions like these, the whole state goes into a hibernation frenzy, with people rushing out for firewood (if they have fireplaces); wine (if they have drinking issues); blankets (if their heat doesn't work properly); snow blowers (if their backs get sore or they have heart issues); and plastic chairs (if they need to "save" their parking spots once they dig their cars out). It's a lot like watching ants scurry around their hill after they've been disturbed. The funny thing is that all this preparation costs money and gets the people amped up, but then the payoff is rarely worth their effort. So even with this "severe storm," I'll be sticking with my weekend plans ... which ... er ... were really nothing to begin with. But it's the principle of the thing!