No, I’m not talking about Bode Miller who should have been sponsored by Jack Daniels rather than Nike (Mr. Zero Brain Mass should dial it down before his sponsors go medieval on his bennies). What I’m talking about is my ability to physically navigate challenges during Ma Nature’s latest mood swings. There’s been enough surly snow, warm flashes, irritable rains, refreeze snits and wind attitude that it has taken an Olympian effort just to stand up.
Example: After trudging up a precipitous hill to check the mail, the only way back to the cabin ends up a butt-burning luge down to our road’s turnoff. If I’m nimble enough to grab a nearby fence and regain my footing, I’m usually able to ice dance along the remaining driveway via several unintentional triple axels, quad toe loops and some convoluted twizzles.
This, much to the bemusement of several moose patiently waiting for me to finish so that they can resume their attack on our ornamental trees like obsessive compulsive beavers.
Then there was the X-Treme Exhibition spawned by my decision to knock snow off the roof. Regrettably, a disgusting lack of judgment that ended up as a major whoop on my life’s “Ah $#*+!” meter.
The only thing I recall was that my wife gave me five empathy points for the symmetry of the indentation of my face plant after I inadvertently executed a freestyle Xtra Tuff slide off the roof into a berm of half frozen mush.
Regrettably, she missed the aerial display of quintessential inverted leg interweaves and pirouetting arm flails or my score would have exceeded my previous personal best. She was kind enough to add another three points upgrade for the piercing yowl that brought my pseudo, yet phenomenal, athletics to her attention in the first place.
Another winter sport challenge in which I have excelled lately has been driving around under incessant storm conditions. This competence test is launched when participants commence probing drifts for their rigs. Once extrication is complete, they are ready for a giant moguls run down unplowed access roads. I must admit that my first attempt ended in a debacle when I became seriously high centered prior to even getting out of the yard.
After 30 minutes of digging and expressing my views about the situation via verbalizations that liquefied ice within a four-foot radius, there was one task left. I found a sturdy looking flat timber and was about to shove it under one of the rear wheels when my malevolent mutt came steaming around the back bumper in blistering pursuit of a highly motivated ermine. The cur hit me with a cross body block that launched my carcass over a hill where I landed arse backward on the board.
The rest is history. Champion snowboarders would have been intimidated. I thundered down the gully like an avalanche on Teflon. The last thing I remember was grabbing some awesome air while completing a gnarly spin-n-flip, much to the chagrin of an eagle that was occupying the same tree I landed in.
I am healing slowly and have decided to retire from giving any more presentations until salmon season. Maybe the snow will be gone by then.
Meanwhile, I’ll have to satisfy myself by watching moose speed skating across the roadways. This event becomes even more exciting when drivers are shooting over the compact snow and ice like bobsledders during a medal run. Once the snow flies, give some people studded tires and/or four-wheel drive and their IQs plummet to three pounds lower than their recommended tire pressures. Add a cell phone and you have vehicle jockeys operating with four mental flats. I’d rather see a spruce hen behind the wheel.
Well, I see it’s starting to snow again and a nice stiff wind is blowing, so I’d better end this tirade. If I don’t get a fire started, the U.S. curling team will be able to use the kitchen floor as a competition rink. Come to think of it, I ought to donate this whole place to the local Arctic Winter Games.
Naw, they couldn’t afford the medical bills and they have a lot more class.
If he’s not out creating his own version of the Winter Olympics, Nick C. Varney can be reached at NCVarney@ gmail.com.
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