No Ice!

Both literally and metaphorically.

On the literal front, I managed my morning fish-wrapper outing without a single slip. Enough sun in the right places yesterday, and the glaze vanished.

On the metaphor front, I've seen some local relationships blow up over the last few weeks, and I've been pondering our own marriage of 35 years. All the other couples we knew back then have split. Not most, _all_.

(Note to Shrub et alia -- those were all hetero couples, so go defend marriage on _them_, but I digress...)

Why have we lasted? Why have my wife's parents passed their 50th anniversary? Dunno. One reason, I'd guess, is that we don't have unreasonable expectations of each other. We have separate interests and do them separately. We don't hold grudges.

And I wash the dishes and close the toilet lid.

Desperate times call for desperate measures

(Or is that "disparate"?)

Well, we _had_ a couple of feet of snow on the ground, prior to that round of rain and temps in the 40s F. But I went skiing in spite of the rock-hard nature of the snowbanks and the bare grass showing in the fields. And I survived. I declined "Heart-Attack Hill"* with polite thanks.

And I would like to beat some dingbats severely about the head and shoulders with my ski poles, for walking on the groomed trails in defiance of the polite signage requesting that they refrain. Leaves holes and lumps and bumps on even the best of trail surfaces, which decidedly were not present.

*The official name on the university ski trail map.

1:20, 5 miles +/-