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choco_froshSadly, these elements did not all get combined, but it was a fun weekend nonetheless.
On Friday it snowed, then changed to drizzle (as usual), which reportedly became sleet for a bit before tapering off and freezing, with some snow flurries coming on late the next morning for an encore performance. Typical bloody shoreline storm. I would normally have been out running Friday am, but given the weather conditions strapped on xc skis for a bit, and made the fun discovery that streets that have been plowed but not sanded actually make for remarkably good skiing. After work, I went shopping for bootlaces (at last), ski wax, and socks, then walked home through horrible drizzle.
Saturday my wonderful father arrived for a flying visit. He was in town for less than 24 hours, but in that time he entertained the baby, brought us fresh shrimp from Maine, scarves from Cambodia and pictures from all over SE Asia (which were sadly reluctant to be viewed), and took us out to those great New Haven institutions, Modern Apizza and the Pantry. mmmm… It was his first trip to either. And, um, that’s pretty much all we did. We were all utterly zonked after an enormous dinner and navigating Peter’s stroller through the snowbanks to Modern; and (inevitably, after telling Dad about how easy it Peter’s sleep schedule was to deal with), the latter decided to object to the upset in his daily routine by complaining and refusing to sleep for much of the night. But I was revived by strong coffee at the Pantry Sunday morning, and we took him off to St. Johns’ to be coo’d over again by the little old lady brigade. Who insisted on buying us Yet More Baby Clothes. yikes.
Dad headed back to Maine post-Church; Grace and I went home to eat leftover Pizza, nap, and fail at our attempts to do much else.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
straussmonster came by around 3:15, since I’d agreed to instruct her in the fine art of cross country skiing, as long as we had something resembling snow. We applied wax to Mom’s skis (tres oldschool: thanks for the wax as well, Dad!), and set forth for a nearby field.
Based on helping teach both her and Grace, it seems that there’s a fairly steep learning curve for n00bs who begin as adults: they start off as completely incompetent, but pick up the basics very fast. Granted, in both cases they had some background in related fields -- ice skating in Grace’s case, downhill instraussmonster’s…but that also meant they had a lot to unlearn. Not keeping your skis together, say. I also spent a lot of time yelling “Keep your knees bent!” (a habit I apparently share with her sensei), and then remembering that I could do better at this myself… I also made the mistake of trying to demonstrate skating, when I don’t really know how to do it myself, on snow that was utterly unsuited thereunto, and without actually using the term skating…when it turned out that straussmonster was already familiar with the technique.
I think my second attempt to skate was the only time one of us fell on our ass all afternoon, though, so it was all good.
Anyway, after going around the field about four times, my padawan mentioned that she’d never climbed East Rock. So we called up Stephen, exchanged skiboots for hiking boots, and rectified this. Then sat around the apartment for a bit, discoursing on back pain,straussmonster’s hat collection, and why climbing Lafayette might not have been a good idea ANYWAY, until Grace came home from introducing Peter to the New Haven Chorale at their winter concert.
Today I am recovering from the weekend. I got up and out in good time (despite a night that, once again, was somewhat lacking in the sleep); but it was the sort of winter morning that makes you glad to be alive, at least if you don’t mind the cold. This evening I will be solely responsible for feeding Peter and putting him to bed for the first time ever: Grace is not going to miss Brahms Requiem rehearsals for anything short of being dead. So wish me luck!
On Friday it snowed, then changed to drizzle (as usual), which reportedly became sleet for a bit before tapering off and freezing, with some snow flurries coming on late the next morning for an encore performance. Typical bloody shoreline storm. I would normally have been out running Friday am, but given the weather conditions strapped on xc skis for a bit, and made the fun discovery that streets that have been plowed but not sanded actually make for remarkably good skiing. After work, I went shopping for bootlaces (at last), ski wax, and socks, then walked home through horrible drizzle.
Saturday my wonderful father arrived for a flying visit. He was in town for less than 24 hours, but in that time he entertained the baby, brought us fresh shrimp from Maine, scarves from Cambodia and pictures from all over SE Asia (which were sadly reluctant to be viewed), and took us out to those great New Haven institutions, Modern Apizza and the Pantry. mmmm… It was his first trip to either. And, um, that’s pretty much all we did. We were all utterly zonked after an enormous dinner and navigating Peter’s stroller through the snowbanks to Modern; and (inevitably, after telling Dad about how easy it Peter’s sleep schedule was to deal with), the latter decided to object to the upset in his daily routine by complaining and refusing to sleep for much of the night. But I was revived by strong coffee at the Pantry Sunday morning, and we took him off to St. Johns’ to be coo’d over again by the little old lady brigade. Who insisted on buying us Yet More Baby Clothes. yikes.
Dad headed back to Maine post-Church; Grace and I went home to eat leftover Pizza, nap, and fail at our attempts to do much else.
straussmonster came by around 3:15, since I’d agreed to instruct her in the fine art of cross country skiing, as long as we had something resembling snow. We applied wax to Mom’s skis (tres oldschool: thanks for the wax as well, Dad!), and set forth for a nearby field. Based on helping teach both her and Grace, it seems that there’s a fairly steep learning curve for n00bs who begin as adults: they start off as completely incompetent, but pick up the basics very fast. Granted, in both cases they had some background in related fields -- ice skating in Grace’s case, downhill in
straussmonster’s…but that also meant they had a lot to unlearn. Not keeping your skis together, say. I also spent a lot of time yelling “Keep your knees bent!” (a habit I apparently share with her sensei), and then remembering that I could do better at this myself… I also made the mistake of trying to demonstrate skating, when I don’t really know how to do it myself, on snow that was utterly unsuited thereunto, and without actually using the term skating…when it turned out that straussmonster was already familiar with the technique.I think my second attempt to skate was the only time one of us fell on our ass all afternoon, though, so it was all good.
Anyway, after going around the field about four times, my padawan mentioned that she’d never climbed East Rock. So we called up Stephen, exchanged skiboots for hiking boots, and rectified this. Then sat around the apartment for a bit, discoursing on back pain,
straussmonster’s hat collection, and why climbing Lafayette might not have been a good idea ANYWAY, until Grace came home from introducing Peter to the New Haven Chorale at their winter concert.Today I am recovering from the weekend. I got up and out in good time (despite a night that, once again, was somewhat lacking in the sleep); but it was the sort of winter morning that makes you glad to be alive, at least if you don’t mind the cold. This evening I will be solely responsible for feeding Peter and putting him to bed for the first time ever: Grace is not going to miss Brahms Requiem rehearsals for anything short of being dead. So wish me luck!
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Date: 2008-02-25 07:10 pm (UTC)Like most Finns I have been traumatized due to school physical education and avoid it like tha plague. In the last 5 years I have discovered strange urges to go skiing, and moments of nostalgia regarding it. Who'da thunk?