Wednesday, January 11, 2006

If the weather gets better, we should get together
Spend a little time or we could do whatever
And if we get together, we'd be twice as clever

So staple it together and call it bad weather.


It dumped until about 1 p.m.

It was coming down so hard that our tracks disappeared between runs.

There were stuffed goats perched on the fireplace in the Moonlight Lodge.

The view.

[read aloud in a Dieter from Sprockets voice.] Artsy.

It stopped snowing about 1 p.m.

Our tracks, taken from the lift. My track is next to the trees.

Upon my signal, unleash hell.

The Challenger lift was shut down because of wind. We had to slog out, but we made like trolls under the culvert-bridge.

What's not to like about hanging out under a bridge?

Do you think that's air you're breathing?

Paint the house! Paint the fence!

Another day in the books. Every time I think it can't get any better, it does.

Somebody pinch me.

If I continue with posts like this, some of my elevation-starved friends are going to do a lot more than pinch me.

But, y'know...

If we had quit our jobs, moved here and didn't take powder days and hike and explore and laugh and dodge bison and bike and spot mountain lions and get coffee and fish and climb mountains and watch elk lock horns and chill and walk our dogs and get coffee and soak in hot springs and play guitar and carve turns and spend time with old friends and live and love every minute of every damn day like we might not get another one...


I'd be pretty disappointed.

Because, really, isn't that the point?

You can walk it straight home from school
You can kiss it
You can break all the rules
But everything is broken

"Sorry, sir, your credit card has been declined."

I already knew it. I knew it before I gave him the card.

That's what it has felt like trying to write here lately.

My little routine usually works like a charm- either early morning or late at night, armed with either coffee or Bengal Spice tea, I settle in. I load iTunes and start the shuffle. At this point, a certain, little calico cat usually announces herself with a chirp and hops into my lap.

Then the words just... flow.

But not lately.

It is pitch black right now. The wind was howling last night.

Big Sky, Jackson Hole and Grand Targhee caught a huge storm last night that will continue into the day today.

Because of the storm, Bells and I decided to meet a tad earlier than our normal rendezvous time.

The drive to Big Sky travels on Hwy 191 through a winding canyon. The views are stunning, but it is the most dangerous road in the state of Montana, and one of the most dangerous roads in the country. In fact, four people died just last week.

The road is littered with white crosses, denoting where fatalities have occurred.

It is noteworthy that my first time driving on that road, in 2003, resulted in a rollover of a brand-new Chevy Blazer. (Thanks, National Rental!) I thought I had caused greivous injury to Antuan Randle El. It turned out that what he felt was warm coffee seeping down his legs, not his lifeblood. As is typical of Antuan and I, we ended up turning it into a pretty damn good time. Once we determined we were OK, the jokes started flying, and we enjoyed a snowball accuracy contest during our hourlong (!) wait for the cavalry to arrive.

Needless to say, I am extremely cautious on that road, so no need for comments or emails telling me to be careful.


I finsihed up a Million Little Pieces a while back. I needed to lighten up after that rather heavy read, and I am reading yet another Elmore Leonard novel, Mr. Paradise.

I have probably read over 20 of his novels. Nobody can spin a story quite like him. You know who is who and what is what fairly early on, then he just lets it all unravel and fall apart. He has spawned a legion of imitators, and without knowing it, you have probably seen a film adaptation of one of his books. Unfortunately, they are usually shitty adaptations (see: Be Cool), but don't blame Leonard for that.

There are some standouts, though- Out of Sight, by Soderbergh, with Clooney and J-Lo was excellent, as was Jackie Brown.

Nevertheless, do yourself a favor and pick up an Elmore Leonard novel. Any one, it doesn't matter.


Well, I see hints of the dawn.

That's my cue.

Gotta go.

Have a good Wednesday.