It's been about three weeks since I made the move back home to Howie and Karebear's stack of bricks. I hadn't unpacked one box until today, Sunday February 8, 2009. I've just been living out of suitcase that included a couple outfits, work clothes, bathroom supplies and of course my most recent read, Middle Sex. Sometimes it helps to avoid reality that way, by acting like you are on a vacation. It's true though, I'm back at the parents. It's actually been a lot of fun living at home and seeing new and old friends. Many advantages come from living in the City of Salt, for example the drive from Salt Lake to Orem in the middle of the night no longer has to be made, which gives me a higher percentage rate for living through 2009, and for that I am thankful. And I no longer have to choose from three places to eat lunch, VARIETY!!! I've missed good Mexican food and normal people.
As most of you have read, I've been attempting to play a little ball the past couple weeks. For those of you who know me best, I know it's an awful idea. Be ready on the other end of the phone to hear me vent through all my past experiences and how basketball has not only destroyed my sanity, but quite possibly ruined my life. Anyways... My rec team is still the shit. We are untouchable and incredibly humble, as you can see. This past week we played the shim's (she-him) team, Jerry or I mean Carey. We came out with another dub. I actually scored this game, so my confidence is coming back one game at a time, which is helping my sanity.
This is not the end of my basketball week though. My Sports Authority partner in crime Jack Jack made me join her in a sisterly game of church basketball up at the U of U institute building. In my 16 or some odd years of playing organized basketball, I have never been so physically abused. I was informed by our team captain that the team we were playing had not lost a game in three years and that they had been rubbing it in all the wards faces. This was disheartening to hear, being that we are all children of God and that shit talking should not be aloud in church basketball, just doesn't seem kosher or Christian. So I felt it was Jack Jack's and my job to humble their ass's. We came back from their nine point lead at half time and beat them by nine. This was not pleasing to the other team, probably because they know we aren't in the girls ward we are playing with, and we totally pulled the "we're investigators of the church" card to allow us to play a little hoop. Cheating? Maybe. With about a minute left, this relief society looking skank charged at me closed fisted and angry and ends up jacking me in my lip, leaving me with a bruised face and a lip that was split open deep enough for stitches... too bad I don't have insurance or teeth. I will forever look funny. I learned my lesson once again, and that is, humbling people can be dangerous and painful, so just leave it to God or karma.
Since I've been home, getting up to The Canyons or The Bird to snowboard has been easier, and travel time has been cut in half. This past week THE FOOTE and I had some great experiences up on our favorite run 9990. This Friday there was a fresh bowl of pow up to our knees. MIRACLES do happen! We haven't had fresh snow in weeks. We were like kids in a candy shop, or pervs at a elementary school playground. Ducking the rope is a risk always taken when the powder is fresh and untouched. Although we have been a little freaked out since the week prior to this amazing snow fall, we were actually caught by ski patrol and smacked on the wrist for not making the 13 minute hike that is required for backcountry riders. Meh... whatever. We're addicts, we'll do what we have to to get what we want. Other than the fact that FOOTE did an unintentional flip and I almost got stabbed in the chest by a branch that was convinently as sharp as a spear and aiming for my heart. We were safe and will live to ride another day.