Monday, in a Nutshell

Well, I survived. It was a bit harrowing there for a while, with the awkwardness and the feeling off-balance, and at some points it looked as though death was imminent, but I persevered, and made it through yet another ridiculous first date.

What? You thought I was talking about the ski trip?

Skiing was great. I actually do remember some of what I learned last season and I have many small things to work on this year, along with one big thing: I'm a neurotic head case. According to Ski Instructor Geoff, the basics are there and what I need most is a lot more practice. According to me, what I need most is a lot more time with Ski Instructor Geoff. Perhaps not wearing skis. Or maybe wearing skis, whatever, it certainly wouldn't be the strangest thing I've encountered lately. Ahem.

There will be A LOT more skiing this year, because Tahoe is so close and because my goal is to be halfway decent by the time the season is over. I want to get to the point where skiing is like riding a bike, and a year or two from now I can hit the slopes feeling a little rusty, but not so out of practice that I'm back at square one. 2007: The Year I Learn to Ski. Also, 2007: Worst Western Ski Season in Recent Memory. I have impeccable timing.

Dear Gods of the Snow,

Please, please, please make it snow. A lot. In the general vicinity of Lake Tahoe would be nice, but I'm not super picky, just someplace accessible from here. If I could impose on you to aim for the weekends, I promise never to complain about winter again.

Love,

Someone who can't believe she just requested snow. In mass quantities.

And on that note, here are a few other random requests I have for the world at large. I'm sure they're not listening to me any more than the snow gods are, but it's worth a shot.

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Dear Cell Phone Talkers in the Locker Room,

I'm sure that whatever conversation you're having at 7:00 in the morning is very important, otherwise you wouldn't be doing it at that volume and in various states of half-dressed-in-sweaty-gym-clothes. However, might I ask you to please, for the love, refrain from such conversation? For starters, there's the normal rudeness factor of talking on a cell phone in public. But add to it the locker room surroundings and it's just plain weird. I mean, what you do in your bathroom at home is entirely your business, and if that includes prancing around singing "I Feel Pretty" while you towel-dry your hair, more power to ya. But I doubt you'd do that here, so, please, exercise the same good sense and PUT THE PHONE AWAY.

Love,

Someone who would like just a tad more privacy while she strips down in front of twenty complete strangers, some of whom don't speak English

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Dear Obviously Single Occupant Vehicles in the Carpool Lane Who Zipped Past Me on the Entrance Ramp This Morning,

You must really like your job. I can see where those two minutes could really make a difference in someone's life. TPS reports don't write themselves, you know. Really, I'm happy you've found something so fulfilling. I also hope you enjoy the special ring of Hell designed just for you, wherein drivers are stuck on a one-lane highway behind a loooooong line of traffic, the front of which is a John Deere tractor motoring down the road. A little something to look forward to.

Love,

Someone who actually follows the damn rules once in a while

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Dear NPR,

Thank you oh so much for lodging "Superfreak" in my head for the entire day. I probably shouldn't complain, since I appreciate 99.93458% of what you broadcast. You're all right. She's all right. That girl's all right with me, yeah.

Love,

SEE WHAT I MEAN?????? (super freak, super freak, she's super-freaky...)