So I've been in a funk of late. Not that cool, P-Funk kinda funk. I mean a funk. And I'm coming out of it. Which is so necessary.
I know this happens to me every fall. And its so stupid because ski season is just kickin' into gear which is by far the best thing in this whole world. There is nothing I love more. Nothing.
And I know ski season is coming, yet every fall, after the leaves are done, when the days are getting shorter and grayer, I just get Funky. For anywhere from 2-8 weeks I become my own personal pitty party event planner. I can spend hours in my head convincing myself that: I don't have friends, I'm fat, I'm getting old and ugly, I've failed in every professional endeavor I've ever pursued. And on and on.
I'm an awesome mindfucker.
But last week the fog started clearing from my brain. And the way I knew this was that I started dreaming of skiing. I dreamt about skiing Every. Single. Night.
I can't ski yet. So I shopped instead. I bought cute trendy clothes that look great on me.
And then yesterday we went to Glenwood Springs and I remembered why I love my body. Because of all the cool things I can do with it. I repeated every awesome mistake I made last time I went to Glenwood and I'm not sorry at all. I like flipping around off a diving board. I especially like it at 30 when half the moms that are watching with their kids are older than I am and won't even go off a diving board because they forgot to remember to use their bodies.
I can swim really well. Like fast and properly and gracefully and I just love the feel of the glide underwater. I like flipping and spinning and just gliding through the water. I like to feel its heat slip along my curves.
I thought about all the tricks I'd like to learn to do on skis and how if I spent more time going off a diving board, maybe I could get inversions down. Maybe I could flip around and around (with short so I stop bruising the SHIT out of my legs) all day long at Glenwood hot springs and then head out to ski on a powder day and throw a front roll.
And then it occurred to me: This is what I have that I can't have with kids. And its good. And I'm going to enjoy it until, well until something else.
And that's the beginning of the exit from my pitty party.
We drove back to Summit County after our fun day in the water and met up with friends at a bar. Yes, I do have friends, asshole. And Rob and I made love and talked and and and
Life is ok, headed toward good.
In other news, my car shit the bed on Friday so I was driving an Impala back over Vail pass all white-knuckled in a snow storm with "Impala" by Lil' Troy in my head, instead of my safe, sturdy Subaru. Didn't want you to think things to too rosy. Life's still go plenty of bullshit. But thankfully, some bullshit comes with a warranty and a weird soundtrack.
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