This is the John McCain that I once respected, and for whom in years past, I would have considered voting … well , except for the Sarah Palin comments in the middle of the speech. If this had been the John McCain that had been campaigning for the past several months, I feel the election would have much, much closer.
Welcome back, John.
And for those who missed President-elect Barack Obama’s victory speech last night, as I did:
Growing up in Chattanooga, Tennessee, I never thought an African American would ever be elected to the highest office in the land. And yet, over the past year, I have been amazed at how much it appears that Americans are becoming more color-blind … and it was my honor and privilege to vote for Barack Obama.
Living in Utah, I was on the losing side in the state … our 5 Electoral College votes are going to John McCain; but the Democratic Party has made some inroads in Utah. In 2004, nearly 75% of Utahns voted to re-elect George Bush. In 2008, 62% of Utahns voted for John McCain, and 34% voted, not only for a Democrat, but an African American Democrat. Democrats changed the balance of power of the Salt Lake County Council. A Democrat unseated the sitting Republican Speaker of the House in the State Legislature.
A shift is coming, and one can only hope and pray that it is, and continues to be, for the better.
Now that the election is over, I have to figure out what I’m going to do to occupy my geek time and come up with new blog topics.
Maybe I’ll start writing about cycling and skiing again … wouldn’t that be an interesting twist?
What a wasted weekend. Friday night was wonderful, but I slept in yesterday (sort of … got up at 5:00, went back to bed at 8:00, then got up at noon), expecting the storm to roll through yesterday, and the weather to clear up today so I could go skiing
But no … the storm decided to hang back, and not roll in until today, and while I don’t mind skiing when it’s snowing, flat light, wind and face-stinging ice is not my thing.
This is the side of “sprinter” that I’m not fond of. I don’t mind if it’s 60 and sunny one day, and 30 and snowy the next … but this 40-degrees and rain shit in the valley has got to stop.
I don’t know if it’s the changing weather (like it is for the Mistress), or if there is something else going on, but I just cannot get my head into the game.
My motivation levels are near-nil, and I find that right now I’m basically just on cruise control. I wake up, I go to work, I come home, I eat too much, watch some TV, and go to bed. On weekends, I may give myself a respite by heading up one of the canyons, but the past couple of weeks, even that hasn’t really helped a whole lot.
I’m looking for inspiration from without, because I’m certainly not finding any from within.
I can’t write, at least not expressively … my pens and journals are just sitting there. I’m not feeling artistically inclined towards my cameras … I’m just carrying them around, but not pulling them out and using them.
My bikes are in the closet, or leaning against the counter in the dining room, tires flattening, chains drying, and even the last couple of days I’ve been skiing have been less than exceptional.
I’m deep in a funk, and I don’t know how to pull myself out right now; and I’m not sure how everyone else can put on such a happy face all the time. I listen to what other people tell me about what’s going on in their lives, much of which is often more difficult than what I’m having to deal with, and yet, they seem like they’re able to just deal with it and move on, while I find myself wallowing in in the muck that is my mind.
Definitely not doing the Big Ring thing these days. I dunno, Train, maybe I should give up the “Flahute” monicker and put away the Ferlinghetti and Kerouac, and start pulling out the Maya Angelou and Sylvia Plath.
Short bike ride yesterday, in the cold (thankfully not raining or snowing), and while I expected it to be difficult since I haven’t thrown my leg over a saddle since December; I did not expect to struggle on a mere 1/2 hour ride.
Then off to party at Jennie’s last night, meeting up with many friends who I’ve not seen in several weeks … completely brain-farted Nancy’s name, which was quite embarrassing; a total synapse mis-fire (or non-fire).
Late start this morning, drove up to Solitude for a couple runs off Eagle Express, and a couple of runs off Powderhorn. Was completely not feeling it, so gave up early and came home …
Definitely not in a good mind-space this afternoon …
After skiing this past Monday with Mama T. and one of the ferners at the ‘Tude on Monday … today I skied Snowbird (for the first time) with the short one, who was very, very patient with me, because the runs she took me on (with the exception of the first warm-up run) were definitely WAY above my ability.
Took the tram to the top of Hidden Peak, then dropped into Mineral Basin taking the Path to Paradise (blue) along to Junior’s Powder Paradise (blue/black); then taking the Mineral Basin Express back to the top of Hidden Peak, then along the Cirque Traverse to drop into the Upper Cirque (double black), then down Chip’s to Who-Dunnit (both blue) to drop some things back at the car.
My boots were killing me, and I was battling a grumbly tummy, so I hung out at the Plaza while the short one went back up for another attack on the Cirque. We then met up with Tom Boonen, and took the tram back up Hidden Peak, where they bagged the High Baldy Traverse before dropping into the chutes above Peruvian Gulch … I had a long argument with myself at the gate, and since my confidence levels were nigh upon nil, I backtracked, dropped Chip’s Run (blue) to Primrose Path (black) back to Chip’s Run (blue) to Chip’s Face (black) then back to Chip’s to the Plaza.
Lunch at the Forklift, then back up the tram for our last couple of runs (skipping the last run) … I let my compadres talk me into tackling Baldy this time around … hiked along the first part of High Baldy Traverse, then skied the rest of it towards one of the easier drop-offs into the double-black soft stuff. By this point, my legs were jelly, and while I’ve been having problems getting forward enough over my skis anyway, I was really having problems getting down this … rag-dolled once, fell a couple of other times, but ultimately made it down alive, well, and proud of the attempt, even if it wasn’t the prettiest descent in the world.
Jennie … thank you so much for introducing me to your mountain, and while I’m sure you would have had a better ski day without me holding you back, thank you (and thank you too, Todd) for your patience with my various struggles. It may not have always looked it, but all-in-all, I really did have an enjoyable day.
I will be back, albeit probably not until next season, with new, properly fitting boots and some more off-piste technique practice; and anytime you want to ski Solitude, let me know, and I’ll show you what I can do on MY mountain.
No photos today … every time I stopped, I was too busy trying to catch my breath (amazing how much more difficult it is to breathe at 11,000 feet than it is at 10,000 feet) to take the time to haul the D80 out of the bag and shoot some of the incredible views.
Is it cheesy to crib a post for your own blog from comments that you’ve left on someone else’s?
Fastgrrrl wrote today about having a sense of place, and how places leave their mark on people.
My place … I’m still trying to determine exactly where my place is …
It’s the Tennessee River, drifting along in a fishing boat. It’s Chickamauga Lake, learning how to slalom. It’s the dogwood tree in front of my great-grandmother’s house in Chattanooga.
It’s the treehouse my friends and I built with stolen building materials from the houses in our new development above Lotus Lake in Chanhassen, Minnesota.
It’s the cobbled roads and small little cafes and bars of Belgium, albeit not by bicycle, as I wasn’t a cyclist then.
It’s the North Beach bars and jazz clubs of San Francisco. It’s the streets of San Francisco dodging buses and taxis, and the roads of Marin County where I truly came into my own as a cyclist.
And it’s rapidly becoming the Utah mountains and canyons, where my knees scream on each attempt to climb higher, but my heart soars as I descend, whether with boards strapped to my feet, or astride my trusty steel steed.
I have a long way to go before I am defined by any one particular place, but as long as the journey continues, I will take it all in and make it a part of who I am, and who I want to be.
Fabulous lunch with the the short one today at Cafe Niche on 3rd South and 8th East, just northeast of Trolley Square. Don’t know if it was the atmosphere, the food or the company, but this was definitely one of the best lunches I have had in awhile.
After dropping Jennie off, had a good chat with Scotty about the state of life, the weather, wine, and skiing.
Am now watching the Film Independent Spirit Awards on IFC, trying to get ideas for more movies to put in the Netflix queue. Thus far, the most promising film appears to be I’m Not There, directed by Todd Haynes.
