Showing posts with label Things that go Splat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things that go Splat. Show all posts

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Seems I've heard something similar before...

The perils of motorcycling

Ah, yes, it was a personal story imparted by The Big Guy, regarding a mishap behind a pig truck.
There is no "better" between the two stories. Only which sucks less.


I think I'll file this one under "Things that go Splat".


via Instapundit

Monday, August 13, 2012

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Saw a new Nike "just do it" commercial this evening

Really well done. Skateboard tricks, snowboard tricks, bike tricks, surfboard tricks etc. Inspirational.
Problem is kids will try to "go big" before they've mastered the small. The video below is not the commercial.
It's the result of going big too soon. It's also a testament as to why pads and helmets are a really good idea.


Monday, May 30, 2011

The bird watch is on again

We have about 12 soffit vents along the back of the house. A few years ago, one of the lazy cable guys routed a cable up the back of the house and punched a hole through the screen over the vent to get the cable into the attic. An enterprising pair of black birds found it and moved in. At least one of the chicks falls out of the nest each year. Last year, the fallee was fully feathered and hid next to the fence for the better part of a day. Mom and Dad sat on the fence and fluffed feathers and chased other birds away until they decided that more direct action was in order. I did not know that birds would do this, but they grabbed the youngster and put it back in the nest.
Today, we came home to find another soffit hole challenged chick next to the patio.
We covered the cat door in the back door to retain the gastronimically challenged feline. And now the watch is on, to see if the parent birds come and get this one.
Belle checks frequently to see if the chick is still there. I just don't want the cat throwing up feet and a beak on the laminate floor.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

God My Ass is Cold Part 2

About a month ago, I told a little story about my first ski trip and promised another part to that story, about my first trip on the big kids’ run filled with excitement, humor and all around fun.  Well, I don’t know if it’ll be all that, I mean, what could be better than wrasslin a 60 pound outboard motor, but I’ll do my best.

So the husband and I were on our honeymoon and I had taken a little spill down on the bunny slopes.  I discussed the parts of a crash, the mental, the ‘oh shit’ moment, then the actual crash itself.  Of course what always follows that is embarrassment and in some cases tears, whether the tears are from being injured or embarrassed depend on the severity of the fall.

After taking the spill down below, the husband and I decided to go ahead to the top of the mountain and ski up there for the rest of the day.  We got on the lift and went up to the top and skied to mid mountain for a few hours.  There wasn’t a lot of snow, as it was early in the year and there was a drought happening.  We ended up having to take a blue (intermediate) run called West Fork but it was a nice wide run so I could traverse the mountain well enough to get by without falling on my rear or worse my face.

A few hours later, my confidence level was up (amazingly, I am a natural skier) and so was my appetite, so we decided to ski all the way to the base of the mountain and grab a bite to eat and possibly an adult beverage before heading back up to top off a wonderfully perfect day of skiing.  We took this green (beginner) run called Demon Run which was kind like a very wide half pipe.  It was a long straight shoot with really high walls.

I was skiing down Green Demon and was doing well, but I was going a little fast and the ski patrol guy yelled at me so, in trying to slow down, I turned my skis sideways and shot straight up the wall and into the trees.  I didn’t fall down, I was so proud, but was a little afraid of having to ski back DOWN that wall to get back to the run.  I took a deep breath and off I went, down the wall, back to the run where my darling man was waiting for me at the end of the run.

So we’re standing at the end of Green Demon where it turns into a blue run, also called Demon Run, so for the sake of this story, I will call it Blue Demon.  Now, before I go on with this portion of my story, let me explain that I learned after all of this that the color coded runs are not relative to skiing level, but relative to the mountain itself.  Green Demon, on a different mountain would have been Blue and Blue Demon elsewhere would have been Black (advanced).  That said…..

I’m standing there at the top of Blue Demon, looking down and thinking to myself, “Oh my God, this is STEEP!”  I looked up at my husband and said something akin to, “Are you crazy?”  He looked at me and told me to just follow him, and I will be fine.  Easy for him to say!  I’m looking down at a steep ‘bowl shaped’ slope, I’m NOT fine!

So off the husband goes and he, of course, made it look easy.  I took a deep breath and started down this nightmare of a run (remember this is my very first ski trip).  So things are going fine, I’m traversing the slope like a pro, but am beginning to pick up speed.  I keep trudging along and I get getting faster and faster, which makes me a little uneasy.  Suddenly, I hit a bump in the slope and my skis are airborne.  Now, it was probably only a few inches in the air, but might as well been a few feet.  Either way, my skis were in the air, NOT on the mountain!  I landed with relief only to immediately find myself in the air yet again.  This is where my mental crash started to happen.  I knew I was going to crash and I began to panic.

So, when my skis finally touched ground (only a second later, but felt like hours), I tried to hockey stop by turning my skis sideways.  This was the ‘oh shit’ moment, I came right out of my skis while dropping my poles all at the same time.  My body flies through the air and I land on my back, spread eagled and began to spin down the mountain, like a pinwheel on my back.

I’m looking up at the treetops, spinning above me while I’m digging into the snow with my fingernails (my gloves came off in the fall) trying to stop myself.  Finally, I stopped with my head down slope and my feet upslope.  I tilted my head up and could see these two guys gathering up all my stuff that came off me along the way.  My poles, my skis (which were together and perfectly perpendicular to the slope) and my gloves were all gathered up by these young gentlemen.

Meanwhile, I’m getting to my feet, my headband was all pushed back and my sunglasses were catty-cornered along my face.  I swear if I would have slid any further down that mountain, I probably would have ended up naked!

You might be wondering where my husband was during all this…  he was way ahead of me, waiting for me and realized that I had fallen down, but was the epitome of patience and concern, but knew that I was okay since I was standing up.

So the boys get to me and they’re in their 20’s and they say, “Are you alright ma’am?”  I sniffled, the tears flowing down my face and said, “Yes, I’m fine, I’m just really embarrassed!”  They said, “Oh no! Don’t be embarrassed, you looked really cool!  That fall was awesome!”

The youngsters helped me into my skis and assured me that I had made it down the worst part of the run, the rest was a piece of cake.  So, I nervously set out on the second half of the run, and yes that part was a piece of a cake.  We went and hand our lunch and I stayed in the bar the rest of the day having adult beverages.  I was NOT going back up that mountain that day!

Well, I went back the next day and we found an alternate route to the bottom of the mountain that had a few hairpin turns that you certainly didn’t want to miss as you would end up in the trees with a 3 foot drop, broken bones or sudden death assured.  Worse part about that run were the bare spots in it, but those were easy enough to miss.

It was a fun trip but my lesson learned is that I will not go so early in the season ever again!


Until Next Time



Sunday, November 28, 2010

God My Ass Is Cold!!

So we just got off the pier and it’s a bit chilly.  My butt is what is equivalent to an icicle from sitting in a lawn chair out there.  There was an annual boat parade to be watched and the boat parade was nice, but small this year, no doubt a sign of the economy.

I can remember another time when my ass was as cold, it was on my honeymoon.  Now, before you think that it was a lame honeymoon, stop right there.  The honeymoon was awesome, just the outdoor activities left me a bit chilly at times.

It was my idea to go skiing despite the fact that I once swore that I would never strap two boards to my feet and slide down the side of a mountain.  So imagine his surprise when I suggested to my better half a Durango ski trip to celebrate our marital bliss.

Having only water-skied before along with ice skating, I had never been on snow skis.  In fact, I had never been in snow that deep before in my life.  I have to say that it was amazing to see the lovely white powdery blanket on the slopes.  Wait, did I say powdery?  I meant slushy man-made snow, as it was early in the year plus they were having a drought so they were making the snow.

I did what every beginner should do and took a ½ day lesson with a ski instructor.  I took to it very well and before long, I was taking that bunny slope like a pro (ha ha).  After my lesson was over, I went up to the restaurant and had lunch with the husband and afterward, we decided to go back down to the bunny slope before heading to the top of the mountain.

There was a little trail that led down there, which was called the ski-way.  It was a Snow Cat trail so it was very narrow and a blue (intermediate) run.  So, I ski down this thing and when I was almost to the end, I had to make a hard right turn as to not end up in the trees.

This is when I realized that there are two stages to a crash.  First, there’s the mental crash, then the actual crash itself.  I see the trees coming up on me very fast and my mental crash consisted of my panic and muttering ‘OH SHIT’.  I made the right turn beautifully and was home free when the second, “oh my god I can’t believe I made it” phase commenced.  This is where the true mental crash came and I yelled out my husband’s name and dropped my poles.  The dropping of the poles signaled the rest of my body that was time for the physical crash.  I went down hard and fast, but was unscathed, just a little shaken up.

So I was sitting there on the snow, thinking, “God my ass is cold” as I watched my wonderful man take the little ski-lift up to the top and ski down to collect my things.  I got back up and skied the bunnies a couple of times before deciding that it was time to brave the big mountain.

So that I don’t bore you to death with a story that is way too long to do justice in this post, I will stop here and pick up with a part two of this post in a little while.

Until then………….

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Mud Rasslin'

It was a wonderful day, though only tiny fish were caught, I did see some good friends in the intra-coastal waterway and in the channel at Mitchell’s Cut.  I saw, for the second time in 10 years, porpoise swimming around.  It was a great sight, and I loved every second of it.

It seems to me that more often than not, when the husband and I go fishing, at some point we are going to end up in the mud.  Of course, I’ve mentioned that it usually ends up with me bailing over the side of the boat to push us out while he masterfully mans the helm. 

You may be thinking that we are horrible sailors, but you really need to understand that where we go fishing, it gets very shallow, very quickly in a lot of places.  Our little bay is only about 5 ½ feet deep at its deepest point.  Ending up in the mud is no anomaly around here, even for the most seasoned captains.

Today, was a little different.  While we did get stuck in the mud, I didn’t have take a trip in the water to get us out.  I was thankful for that, though we damn near blew up a $10,000 outboard motor, not to mention the water pump to the bait well.  Fortunately, all is well on that front.

This, of course reminds me of a time when we ended up in the mud in the johnboat and we had a buddy of ours with us.  So without further ado, I am going to tell that story in an attempt to entertain the masses once more.

My husband, our friend Willam, and I were in the johnboat, headed down to the cut to go fishing.  My husband was at the helm and he ended up making a wrong turn.  In all fairness, the channel markers were really unclear and so he was a little confused.

Anyway, he makes his turn and suddenly we are at a dead stop, the motor is churning up mud, we had run aground.  William had this adorable ‘deer in the headlights’ look and he was just looking at me, then at the husband, then back at me again. 

Finally, I spoke up and said, “Fine, send a woman overboard to do a man’s job!” And of course, swinging both feet overboard, I descend into the mud.  The problem here was that I sank into that mud thigh deep!

Of course, not to be outdone, William decides that he’s not going to let a girl get the better of him and he decides to join me in the mud.  In doing so, the poor man only stepped out of the boat with one foot and as he began sinking in the mud, the side of the boat proceeded to play TSA agent and plant itself right in his boys.

The look on poor William’s face as he made an “OOF” sound and proceeded to fall overboard was classic.  He knocked me on my rear end in the mud which was a whole other bikini bottom issue for me, but despite it all I, was doing my best to stifle to a laugh as I fixed my issues and then helped him up.  We did get the boat out of the mud and get back into the water and made our way to our destination.

The moral of the story, when you have to go overboard, do so with both feet, you never know about those soggy bottoms!

Until next time.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Silly Falls and Motor Rasslin’

That’s motor wrestling for those of you who aren’t versed in redneck-speak.

My husband and I are down at the coast at the family house on the creek for a little weekend R&R and some fishing.  We hope that it’s a catching trip, not just a fishing trip, but either way, there’s nothing better.  We try to get down here at least once a month.  This house is very special to us since it’s the place where we spent the better part of our courtship.

This morning, I took the dog (Penny) outside to do her morning business.  The house is built on 12 foot pilings in case of flooding and so taking the dog out, requires a trip down the stairs.  This morning, that ‘trip down stairs’ changed from a travel type trip to a stumbling type trip and I’m lucky that I didn’t break my ankle considering that I missed the last step and stumbled to the ground, my ankle rolling forward.

Naturally, I had to stand up real quick and look around as if to say, “I meant to do that!” just in case anyone happened to be looking.  I dusted myself off and when Penny accomplished her mission, I went back upstairs and was reminded of another fall that I had about 12 years ago.

As I mentioned earlier, my husband and I spent most of our weekends at the creekhouse while we were dating.  The reason for that is that he has two kids and I have two kids and it was a good way for all of us to be together, and let the kids run and play and wear themselves out.

One weekend in particular, we didn’t have the kids with us so we decided to take the johnboat out on a fishing trip.  When we got back, we, of course had to clean up the boat and flush the motor and take the motor off the back of the boat (it was only a 14 HP motor with a tiller attached to it) and store the motor in the storage closet under the house.

Naturally, adult beverages were involved in this whole process, but I was really feeling the love that day and wanted to show my man that his woman can take care of herself.

So we flushed the motor with fresh water and washed out the boat so it was as pretty as a johnboat can be and my man goes to the storeroom to get the stand (or dolly, it had wheels) that the motor rested on.  At this point in time, KX59 (my man) was trying to hurry because he had a feeling what was going to happen next.

I don’t know what came over me, but I decided that I would lift the motor off the transom and walk it to the dolly, meeting KX59 half way.  Well back then, that portion of the driveway was made of limestone rock so there were a lot of large, loose rocks.  The motor wasn’t heavy, it only weighed 60 pounds, that was about half of my weight at the time.  The trouble was not just the terrain I was walking on, but mostly it was the fact that the motor had a long shaft so it was very awkward to carry.

So, I’m holding this motor, walking like a Geisha because that’s all that the long shaft will allow my feet to move; and suddenly I step on a large rock and all hell breaks loose.

First, I shout out KX’s name and then as creative and very skilled cuss words pass my lips, I begin to fall forward.  Not wanting to drop the motor, I pull it close to my chest as both my feet slide in an unnatural direction (skyward).  At this point, all I see is the ground coming at me and all I can think of is that I’m going to break the motor and I can’t afford to buy a new one! 

The motor hits the ground and I land on it.  It’s really more like I body slammed it and managed to knock every bit of wind out of my lungs and quite possibly crack a rib or two.  Meanwhile, KX59 has returned from the shed in time to see me falling down and immediately rushes to my side.

At this point, not only can I not breathe, my pride is crushed.  I rolled over onto the ground and I see KX’s face over me and I barely croaked out three words, “Don’t touch me!”  The pain that I was feeling felt like nothing that I had felt since I was a kid and fell out of a tree (a whole other story).  I felt like my lungs were on fire and I was all scraped up.

Eventually, the air came back to my lungs and we went upstairs.  I was fine, though my pride was not.  The motor was just fine as well, if not a little scratched up.

Love makes us do crazy things sometimes, doesn’t it?