I'm back, baby!

In this context, though, that totally sucks. My back, that is.

I realize that V and Kelly will be disappointed, but I didn't hurt myself during any sort of high-energy sex romp with Maggie. I survived that just fine, thank you very much. No, I hurt myself taking a half-fall on my first run of the day.

What sucked most was that this was right at the start of the run... two lift-rides up to the peak of Sugarbush. I took a half-spill, recovered, and crank. End of story. I was lying there on my side thinking: "Oh, shit. How the hell am I going to get down the mountain?"

It's frustrating, obvious, and utterly stupid: how direct my stress levels relate to my back injuries. On the way up the lifts, I was telling Maggie how I was having a great time in spite of the kids making me crazy... and now that we were on the lift for a day of skiing, I was starting to get righteously psyched. Sadly, whatever stress-cables had knotted themselves together in my lower back unwind more slowly than I would have hoped.

Am I whining? I so, I apologize. A little.

The upside? Throwing out your back requires that you maintain perfect posture if you want to make it down the mountain without the assistance of the ski patrol.

So now, I'm walking around all stooped over. My daughter does a perfect imitation of my feeble little walking motion. Ha-fucking-ha.

Anyway: I'm going to publish this sucker and lie down now. I promise to be significantly more interesting sometime before spring. Seriously.

Love to all. Even you, the speedy kid who made me turn.