This evening, it is just us. It seems quiet. Just the five of us, who call summit county our permanent residence. This last week, we have had come through our front door, at one time or another, seven souls that call elsewhere home. My parents were here for a few days, and my grandparents, one evening, and Theron and Heather, my cousins from Michigan, and Craig, one of our friends from Kansas. I have tried to juggle work and play all week, resulting in getting too little done of either, and am feeling the lingering effects of sleep deprivation.

I have included three photos with this post, that I feel sum up the week rather nicely.
The first one is just how bitterly cold it got here. If I can shift my attention from my numb hands on the stearing wheel for long enough on sub-zero mornings, and look around me on my way to work, there is something so breathtaking about the way the steam rises from the blue river, it's icy water so much warmer than the air, and crystallises on the bushes along it's banks. True, I nearly turned into a human popsicle taking pictures of it, since I had to park at the hardware store, cross the street on foot, and wade through a snowbank to take pictures of it, but looking at them reminds me that winter isn't all bad, just kinda chilly. And hazardous for drivers.

The second one is of my very own mother, fresh off a three and a half mile run down Schoolmarm, Keystone's well-known beginner's run. She's figured out how to switch those edges, that part was easy to teach her. But convincing her to point that thing downhill, well, that's another discussion altogether. She's cautious. But I had fun, we got to spend lots of time together, something that's rare these days.

And what is a weekend snowboarding with friends without the bloopers? Yes, I know my legs would not win any prizes on a good day. But now, I have express instructions not to wear anything but long pants until they are a pink again. The third photo is a prime example of what can happen when one introduces iron into an already iffy mix of snow, flesh, and wax-coated fiberglass. Not my first jib, but definitely my worst crash on one. I have a vague memory of pulling my face out of the snow and staring in shock at the red paint slashed across the front of my snowpants, paint that used to be on the metal surface of the rail, and wondering if that had hurt as badly as my mind told me it should have. Then, of course, my mind began receiving 911 calls from my shins and the mental switchboard began sparking and I took my chastened self back to my parent's condo to survey the damage.

That's the week in a nutshell. Cold weather, warm food, family, fun, and of course, the inevitable consequences of doing something stupid.

B. has been faithfully working out this whole time. I must admit, I have fallen off the wagon. (I used that phrase the other day, and one of the extras we had in our house, I can't remember which one, not familiar with the cliche', made the observation, "I'm not sure what that means, but knowing you, I can see how it could happen!" They probably had a point.) After spending my evenings lately limping from the couch to the kitchen, and back again, I am feeling a bit overfed and underworked. It's amazing how, after only a few days of overeating, things begin to fit much more snugly. And it takes nearly three times the amount of time, with diet and excersize, to get them back to their normal fit. My newish Gel Asics have been ignored so much lately, they have ceased to call out very loudly from the confines of my smelly gym bag. We may be friends again, after they have stopped punishing me everytime I lace them up. They always make me feel as though I am doing all the work the first few times I come crawling back to them.