Good Sense

I just got back from < a href=http://www.olympusspa.com>the spa and am feeling suitably gooshy and noodly and generally in a good mood, in stark contrast to the last couple of times I’ve written. Nothing, it turns out, is so efficacious a remedy for generalized angst and anomie than spending a couple of hours surrounded by naked women in hot tubs, taking a break only for a massage or for some delicious bibimbap. I love the spa. Remember how last time I went I was all sad about body image and trying to suck in my gut and kind of hating myself? I don’t know what changed this time I was much more chill and calmly noticing interesting nipple placements and tattoos and wondering what the purpose of the landing strip thing \\is\\…like, either do it or don’t do it, you know? Commit, one way or the other. It’s been a really nice day.

This whole weekend has been good, as a matter of fact. I went to a show with some awesome girls on Friday night wore a cute shirt and stayed out past midnight (I was in bed by 12:15). Saturday I had brunch with someone I’d known in college a little but hadn’t seen since the late nineties…it was kind of cool to see that we still liked each other and had a lot in common and a lot to talk about. I gave them a short version of the Ballard tour and we talked a lot about sustainable communities and independently owned and operated coffee houses and the costs of commuting and so on and so forth. This girl and I didn’t \\really\\ know each other in college all that well but she found the journal a couple of months ago and just moved back to Seattle and it was kind of cool to see that there was some sort of connection. Maybe I just haven’t changed much over the years, or I just have consistently chosen good people with whom to surround myself, but it’s kind of cool to think that there’s some lasting affinity with someone I knew peripherally ten years ago. Last night when we were coming back from Snoqualmie Mrs. Roboto’s husband was telling me that when he was in college it was not unusual for him to locate his brass knuckles as part of his normal getting-ready-to-go-out procedure…after I finished fainting from such a revelation from the very fabulous and peaceloving Mr. Mrs. Roboto, I expressed some surprise that so much had changed so radically for him in the intervening ten years. I don’t feel that way, so much, about my social life. Most of my changes have been mostly internal, I think, and so while I never have any entertaining stories that involve bar brawls and socks full of quarters, I do have lots of opportunities to go out to brunch with people I haven’t seen since the nineties and not have any awkward silences when parole officers come up in conversation.

And, oh yeah! Snoqualmie! Yeah, Mrs. Roboto, Mr. Mrs. Roboto, and I all chugged up to the mountain to go cross-country skiing, a revelation that will make anyone who has had the grave misfortune to do anything outdoor-related simultaneously bray with concern and genuflect with heartfelt gratitude that they themselves were not involved in the outing. I played it cool when Mrs. Roboto suggested a little ski-on-snow action. “Oh yeah,” I said. “Cross-country skiing, totally. I’m so in.” Little did she know that most of my snow-related experience has involved copious tears…not \\my\\ tears, you understand, because I always have a pretty good time. The people crying are the ones who have to listen to my going “Hey, how do I get this boot in? What do you mean, I have to stick my hands through the loops if I don’t want to lose my pole? Hydration is for \\sissies\\, man…besides, I had eight ounces of water a couple of days ago, I’m sure it will be fine. My legs hurt. My butt hurts. My arms hurt. Snow is getting on my head. I’m hot. I’m cold. I’m hungry. Hey! Stop pretending you don’t see when I fall face-first into a tree pit! Totally not funny, you guys.”

Considering the last time I put on hiking clothes was about three years ago and that neither of the Robotos knew what they were doing either, we all had a lovely time. Cross-country skiing is pretty straightforward: you snap your boots into your skis and you slogslogslogslogslogslogslog forward, with occasional forays into glideglideglide and a couple of instances of MY SKIS ARE NOT LISTENING TO ME AT ALL which usually happens when there is any sort of downhill involved at all. I only fell once and kept from being bored by telling myself how much cardio action I was getting. I expected to be much more sore today than I am, which tells me that perhaps I didn’t get as good of a workout as I anticipated…or that any benefits of whatever workout I \\did\\ get were obviated by the preemptive hot chocolate and peanut m&ms I applied to the problem.

It was a pretty day though, with the snow falling lightly and a brief respite from the gray of Seattle. We slogged along happily, regaling each other with Tales Of Snowsports Past. My big story has to do with going on my first (and, uh, last) cross-country ski trip, in the mid-nineties, and falling for the old trick where your so-called friends convince you to climb up on top of the igloo you’ve all built together, and then to jump up and down on it, sending you plummeting several feet into the snow cave below and bringing certain key scenes from Empire Strikes Back forcefully to mind. It felt good to be outside and using my body in ways I don’t usually, most of my physical activity being confined to the indoors as of late. On the way back down Mrs. Roboto dared her husband to slide down a little hill sitting on his skis. Not only did he do it without falling off, he also seems to have started some sort of trend because a dad and his kid saw him and immediately did the same thing…the kid just \\flew\\ down the hill and we’re pretty sure he would have ended up in the parking lot had he not lost one of his skis. We were very proud.

The rain is raining rainfully down and I am actually sitting atop a big pile of to-be-folded laundry as I write this. I have a netflix to watch and maybe one more tiny little homemade cookie of Treasa’s to eat before I go to sleep. It’s been a good weekend, restful and social in all the right ways. I hope I have the good luck to have more of these, as well as the good sense to recognize that luck when I do have them.

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