Archive for February 2010
Winter Games
Enough about my silly winter weekend activities. The eyes of the world are on the 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver. As much as I love to watch sports, (I saw a wonderful opinion piece yesterday questioning whether a lot of what we see being subjectively judged should really be called a sport), there is a lot about these games that I fail to fully grasp.
The US snowboard star, Shaun White, was asked how his gold medal winning run of 4 years ago would stand up against the judging of today’s event. His guess was that it might barely be enough to qualify for the finals now, but that’s it. The same thing happens in figure skating. Once someone masters a new level of trick that has 4 spins instead of 3, then 4 spins becomes compulsory to challenge for the top medal. What if, when someone hit an extremely long homerun in baseball, it became the new standard and all homeruns needed to be that long? These judged events just continue to grow more outrageous every year.
How in the heck, as a casual spectator, am I supposed to discern whether a person has spun around 3 or 4 times? How am I going to notice whether a boarder spun a 900 or a 1080? If Curling can be presented as a spectator sport, why don’t they spend a little of that dead time between stone deliveries to explain to all of us who have never set foot in a venue where curling occurs, (the majority of the world’s population), what the actual rules of the game really are?
The most difficult aspect of wanting to see actual Olympic competition, especially those of us subject to receiving US television broadcasts, is surviving the overwhelming volume of advertising blasted at us throughout the hours the network has scheduled their coverage. It’s worse than trying to watch an NFL game on television, and that is a pretty drastic milestone to surpass! There seem to be more minutes per hour of ads than there are Olympics. What little competition we are granted tends to get whittled down to the medal winning performances. There is a lot more going on than we ever get to see.
Lastly, I don’t understand why there is any reason to compare how many medals each country has. If they need to do it, the least they could do is weight it to take into consideration how many athletes per country there are. Either way, it fails to provide any valuable information related to the spirit of the Olympic competition.
Regardless all my gripes, I still love to see the winter Olympic games. All the way to the end of the month, any free time I have will likely involve a large percentage of tuning in whatever coverage I can get. It definitely offers something that none of the professional or college league sports are able to conjure up during the rest of the days of the year.
Back to the Grind
Whew! After a weekend like that, I could use a weekend. I’m feeling exhausted now that I’m home. It was a wonderful time together with family of a wide range of age sharing in food and fun up at Cyndie’s family’s place in northwest Wisconsin. The weather was awesome and we fit in some boot hockey, snow shoeing, and teeny bit of sledding, in addition to the work to finish the igloo. I think I ate enough food that I can go a few days of complete fasting now and not notice.
It is both difficult and comforting, in a way, to return to the work-week routine. Part of me screams to be allowed to stay up in the woodlands to play in the snow, away from the demands of my life in town. At the same time, I can relax into the normalcy of what I tend to do everyday and find it easier, in a way, than doing the extraordinary recreational activities that I so thoroughly enjoy.
That’s not really all that surprising. It’s part of what makes the enjoyable things we do more interesting. The past weekend was interesting and so much more. I really do want to stay in that place, so even as I return to my work routine, I’m going to be reliving the highlights in my mind again and again.
Igloo Accomplished!
I’m not going to add up how much time in total was spent working on the igloo this year, but in the end, we gave up on the mechanism and resorted to placing some blocks we made separately to finally top it off. Works dandy. It helps that we experienced a downpour of snow right as we were finishing. Automatic application of mortar for the cracks. Most remarkable is that we were able to get this done despite the almost non-stop onslaught of food being served up. I don’t know how we found the time.
Nick gets credit for the finishing work
No Scrubbies
Hardly a hitch on the great winter 2010 version of Hays reunion weekend in Wisconsin except for the flat tire that appeared for no apparent reason on Elysa’s car, and the unfortunate situation that occurred in the kitchen when it was discovered we had no scrubbies to execute the cleaning chore required. Let’s just say, we have no shortage of foodstuffs to sustain us during our local winter games. Not all the games required outdoor exercise… Ask Nick about his Peggle conquests.
If Judy were here, this might not have happened
Winter Reunion
Today we wake in the wonderland of winter at a place we call Wildwood with a subset of Hays relatives that have gathered for the weekend of snow fun and cabin, …oh, wait, that’s “cabin” in quotes to clarify that this fabulous place does not fit the literal definition of a cabin, …anyway, that was a weekend of cabin fun! Some family haven’t visited here in over a decade and other young ones have never been here before. To those of you in the family who were unable to make the trek into the woods of northwest Wisconsin, here are a few early snapshots to get you started:
(Judy, Marebare says “Hi, we miss you.” Tricia thinks that by saying so, she is just trying to poke you, as little sisters are wont to do…)
Remember where we are?
Playin' in the porch on Friday night
Little cereal to tide over till the main event!
Makings of the main event before they have risen
Evidence of not much new snow here lately
An Episode of Living Life
Imagine if our lives were an all new episode. Would we wait around for the preview scenes after a word from our sponsor? Something tells me there wouldn’t be as many complications as are typically found in a 1-hour television drama. I think one of the reasons I am such a fan of post-apocalyptic stories is that they depict future societies that no longer have the television frame of reference.
Sometimes I wonder what life was truly like for people in the past who lived in a rural environment without radio or television entertainment. At the same time, I am inclined to want to compare them to the way people of today would adapt if they were put in the same situation of no radio or television. A post-apocalyptic scenario, void of electricity, creates just that opportunity for me.
I was captivated by Cormac McCarthy’s novel, “The Road” and for the most part, enjoyed the interpretation of a post-apocalyptic USA as depicted in the movie, “The Book of Eli,” but I always come away from such stories wondering about the likelihood that the way the author or film director depict the vision is anywhere near what might actually occur. I have difficulty dissecting which parts seem genuinely possible from the parts that seem overly dramatized Hollywood manipulations. Then it kind of becomes a snake eating its tail. Time to think about something else…
Like packing to go out of town for a weekend? No, I won’t think about that yet. I’ve still got a few hours before it is time to leave. Here’s to all the things I didn’t get accomplished before it came time to go. Trust me, it makes for really dreary drama. On the other hand, it is an all new episode!
Speaking of Punishment
Well, well, well. I’m enduring ongoing punishment here. It seems that for some strange reason, one of the muscles in my leg wasn’t up to full speed soccer yesterday morning, after 5 days straight of the intense stress of shoveling. Looks like I’m out of athletic activity for about 6 weeks. Could the fatigue from shoveling, and my injury playing soccer, be related?
I take it as a sign of progress that neither of my calf muscles failed me. No, this time it was a hamstring. Or, more precisely, the biceps femoris long head. I felt the “pop” on the back of my leg, just above the knee, the same as it feels to get hit by a raquetball. I have never injured a hamstring to this degree before, and never down near the knee. I didn’t know what to think. I hopped off the court, afraid to put any weight on it, and began to assess what the heck I had just done. It felt like, if I moved at all, it would cramp up. Eventually, with the encouragement of my soccer mates, I determined I could move the knee joint fully and stand to put weight on the leg without specific pain. The pain is when I try to move in any way that requires strength from that muscle. It is a soft-tissue injury that will get ice, rest, compression, and elevation for treatment. And long term, it will get massage to break up any scar tissue that forms. I learned about the benefits of that the hard way, with my calf.
All I needed to do was drive home from the club. Then I remembered I drive a manual transmission vehicle. Working that clutch is a real treat with a muscle injury. I figured I could take it slow and do as little shifting as possible. As if the driving situations are going to be sensitive to my plight. I felt like such an invalid, trying to maneuver this car with my injury, and I wanted everyone in the vicinity to realize that I was injured and might need an allowance to navigate home safely. From outside my vehicle, I looked perfectly capable to others. It struck me that the normal reaction I have to other vehicles I see every day is that the drivers would be fully prepared and equipped to drive. Why would I consider it to be any other way?
Well, now I’m here to report that I have a new insight. Even though a vehicle might look just fine, the driver could be on their way home from injuring themselves while playing sports and deserve a little extra patience. For every car we have to deal with in the rush hour on the way to or from work, which we assume is being driven by someone just as capable and aware as ourselves, we could actually have someone who just learned some terrible news, or were just involved in an intense argument with someone they love, causing them to experience a psychological injury, or even recently suffered a physical injury, and now they must try to get themselves home or somewhere safe or where they can get help. Don’t just assume people driving around you aren’t dealing with some dramatic problem of their own, just because you can’t see it.
Of course, it is still equally possible that they are driving erratically because they are eating while texting as they read the paper and fiddle with the radio. You may still be inclined to curse them, but keep in mind that other possibility as you lay on the horn to let them know of your dissatisfaction with their driving performance.
Glutton for Punishment
I have been a shoveling fool lately. Some of it, by choice. Last week we had some sleet/freezing rain/snow that really needed to be cleaned off the driveway and sidewalk or risk the chance it might freeze up for good. I hustled to get it done in the final moments before leaving town for the weekend. Then, the very next day, I went and shoveled the rink up at the lake. That was something I probably didn’t have to do, but it was a labor of love to prepare a rink for boot hockey to serve the Hays clan planning to gather next weekend. After a day of that shoveling, I was instructed to move the grill out so we could use it to cook Saturday’s dinner. The path to do that required shoveling, and it proved to be the toughest foe I would face. When the driveway up at the lake had been plowed, they dumped a pile right in front of the walkway to the lower deck and by that time it had set up like concrete. I chipped away at it in small chunks until I got it cleared. The next day I pushed a lot of powder snow to make piles for creating blocks to the igloo. Then came Monday’s 7 inch snowfall and I was back in the driveway at home moving massive amounts of snow. Overnight, another couple more inches accumulated, but I didn’t have time to tend to it in the morning so the wonderful wake of the city snowplow that filled the end of the driveway was able to set for the whole day until I got to it late last night.
I do love to shovel snow, but I also really love not shoveling snow, if you know what I mean.
There is something satisfying about the appearance of freshly cleared snow that is even more rewarding if it is the result of your own labor. However, back before Christmas, when we got hit by a series of significant snowfalls, one after another, I didn’t hesitate to accept, when my neighbor offered to clear the pile a the end of the driveway with his snow blower. As much as I enjoy the chore, I didn’t want to deny my neighbor the opportunity to help out.
My willingness to accept assistance notwithstanding… lately, with the snowfalls and my weekend plans combining in such concise timing, my affinity for shoveling is proving to reveal me as quite the glutton for punishment.
Relative Something 
