No Pain No Gain

Snowboarding can be a punishing sport, at least when you first start out. Why does it look like you've been unduly castigated after a day on the slopes? Bruises all over your knees from begging for mercy and painful black and blues on your butt as a result of the lashings from the not so innocuous bunny slope. I'd include pictures, but then the experience would be more painful for you than for me. But even while I was learning to ski, it wasn't the most pleasant adventure in the beginning. I paid the price in the form of busted knees, chilly toes, and having to eat a lot of cold snow. But it was worth it in the end. How can you not have fun careening down a freshly covered mountain side (as long as you stay on your feet, that is)?

So are all good things supposed to begin with a price? I can hardly make a list of those things in my life that have brought me a joy that has overwhelmed the pain that comes in tow. Suffering seems to be a natural recurrence for me, which makes it difficult to want to tackle the next challenge in line. The contusions on my heart never have enough time to go away before the next ones hit. If God's mercies weren't new every morning, I would have expired long ago.

Hopefully there's a light at the end of the snowboarding tunnel. In the meantime, I'll wait for the bruises to heal...again.

So yummy! 

All the Way to Reno

Dishing out hard earned money for a practically effortless chance at walking away with some extra change seems like a great deal. Not only do you end up eating and drinking for free, but you also are highly entertained in the process. But come now, how many people do you know hit it big and then happily don’t need to return to work the next day? Hmm, let me ask the probability gods who have helped all those casinos to stay alive and kickin’. We’ll let them decide.
Casino +$8, ABC -$8

Come to think of it, this gambling thing ain’t half bad, especially when luck decides to flash a quick smile your way. And hey, these tables aren’t as intimidating as I had originally thought. Teresa is a friendly local just trying to make a living. I should keep her company and help her out. Afterall, dealers are people too.
Casino +$1, ABC -$1

Since I don’t claim to be superstitious, it wouldn’t seem all that important to play on the video blackjack machine that did me right the last time I made my eight dollar fortune. But I found myself meandering about the smoky, cash sucking joint while grandma fed my machine. It’s not that I was waiting for her to vacate the seat upon which she was encroaching; I had to champion a friend who had much more at stake. Show my support, that is, until it was my turn to give lady luck a spin (does lady luck apply to us girls?). I’ll make my money back, grab an almost free drink, and call it a gratifying night.
Casino +$31, ABC -$31 (I know this is redundant, but it’s more dramatic this way)

It’s funny where a pack of second hand smoke, cheap liquor, and an empty pocket can lead you. To the ATM, that’s where. Somehow my shaky hands and bloodshot eyes found the right combination of numbers to dig into the funds that were to remain non-liquid for fear of appeasing the blackjack muses. But I saved some dough buying lift tickets off Craigslist – I can afford this! I got this room for free, darn it! A few bucks bet away is like small change for the hotel room – still a deal! Yea, that’s it. Still a deal.
Casino +$91, ABC -$91

It’s amazing how much time can go by when your nerves take you for a ride. The alcohol wears off, your breathing becomes less hindered, and grandma looks friendly again. She can have her machine back; I have a new favorite money box.
Casino +$8, ABC -$8

Thankfully, I could sleep well that night. Now I wonder where I can find some more friends to head up again so I can win those six bucks back...

Feels Like Home

Stuck in the middle of nowhere, it’s easy to get lost in loneliness, waiting for a phone call or email that will never come. You can’t hop into your car and surprise a nearby friend or zip over to the nearest tea house to pick up an overpriced cup of PMT (which would unfortunately violate my new year’s resolution). Instead, you can try to have a broken conversation with the maid on your floor about how embarrassed you are not to speak Mandarin any better than a pre-schooler, and subsequently resign yourself to chat about the weather compared to back home for 10 long minutes. Or you can dine and small talk with the coworkers with whom you’ve already spent the past eight hours doing non-stop work, which is of course, the default. Nothing like emptying your beer glass a gazillion times thanking each person for welcoming you to their neck of the woods. Nevermind you’ve been here a handful of times already.

Happily I return to my 700 square foot suite (the rooms on the business floor were booked) to find a bowl of cute mandarin oranges that are as sweet as honey. As I pop one in my mouth, images of my even cuter pal searching for a crate of these little treasures at the local Chinese market fill my homesick mind. Ooh, and Independence Day, the only non-dubbed show on TV is on, a classic film promoting the ever-progressing career of Bill “Lonestar” Pullman. I think my brother would agree that Spaceballs was the penultimate professional accomplishment on Bill’s resume. If I knew him personally, I’d never let him live that one down. Time to get into my Paul Frank flannels, a gift from a girl who can almost always make me laugh. The little things are what you notice; they make me smile…at least for a moment at a time.

Trips like these make my potentially new home away from home more difficult to accept. Oh wait, no time to dawdle on the ties that bind. Bourne Supremacy is starting, and if it’s anything like the first one, it’ll cure my jetlag and put me right to sleep.

I miss home, wherever that may be.

Get it Right the First Time

The other night, I pulled my ski adverse knee and ankle ligaments out onto the tennis court. The ball felt so heavy at first, but grimacing through the tightness of my joints, I was surprised to find the ball lighten up a bit and more consistency in my backhand than in my forehand. Unheard of! Seems practice is a good thing for my forehand (along with my pool game, I found out later that night), but a couple weeks off is good for my backhand. Funny how that is.

So what is the most prudent course of action when it comes to something that isn't making progress? Do you put endless hours of toil into it not knowing whether the effort will solicit better results? Or do you take some time off and hope your backhand irons out or just forgets its bad habits while on sebatical? To passively or actively strive for positive change, that is the dilemma. I suppose it depends on the situation.

Maybe I'll just sit back and wait for some advice on this before I actually do something, then compare notes. Or maybe I'll aggressively intensify my efforts for a little while before dropping off...aiya, having choices is sometimes not a good thing. Someone just tell me what to do.

Snow in Summer

A little while ago, I talked about perspective being everything. And so the revelation reoccurred to me this past week while riding in a two door, compact car with only one chain up and then down a mountain right after the first big dumping in the Sierras. I guess it could have been worse; we could have been in the middle of that storm, but somehow being able to see the drop over the edge of the cliff made the trip feel a bit more perilous. After our right chain broke, and we slid to a stop on the side of the road, the chilly, hour long wait for help to arrive seemed to be one of those eternal hours. But it's amazing how safe you can feel in the unsafest of situations. Nevermind the numerous prayers we sent up. Nevermind the visit by three different sheriffs and a fire truck. And nevermind the four bars that allowed us to call the highway patrol to get in touch with a local towing company. I'm sure God's watching over us made all those things happen. But the one thing He did for me that made the difference was to put me in the company of someone I trusted. That feeling of security fortunately shadowed me on the ski lift overlooking the death-defying chutes. And surprisingly, it lasted long enough to help me cascade down the mountain in the midst of winds and snow that gave me that dizzying vertigo feel. His mercy is in fact new every morning.

The tow truck never did arrive, but that kind of divine security was better than any roadside assistance that would have come. If you ever do experience that sense of assurance, don't let it go. Guardian angels only come around once in this lifetime.