The Seasoned Truth

Ahhh, the change of the seasons: the weather warmed up slightly quicker than a crusty Summit County local’s attitude towards everyone else, mud season came and went and I stopped smelling like fried meat and started to smell very strongly of smoked meat.

First off, I’ll admit: it’s been awhile since I clambered aboard the blog train. I apologize for a nonexistent Sylva Lining fix (as my prose is like penned crack). Winter came, smacked us in our surprised faces with ten tons of snow, and then whacked us on our Gore-Texed rumps with ten tons more. Just now, it’s barely begun to ponder melting. So needless to say there was a lot of skiing this winter… and a lot of late nights talking smack in Austin’s hot tub or watching movies until the wee hours, giving the local liquor stores business, traveling (so uncharacteristic, I know), finally finishing one whole book (“Song of Solomon,” highly recommended) and some more skiing. And in between, Tyler and I hammered away at our differences like a pair of awkward carpenters, because it’s for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health or until one of you totally friggin’ wins. Wins what? Does it matter? Ahhh, mawidge.

Because any of you know Tyler at all, you know that he’s like this:

And me, I’m a bit more like this:

But when you’re married, you just have to put up with each other’s sh*t, so it comes to this:

So now Tyler and I, we’re thick as the snow still perched atop the Gore Range. But I digress. See, this winter became some sort of Peyote-soaked quest for me (except without the Peyote). By that I mean I learned an ancient Neo-Roman dialect which I promptly forgot because it’s impossible to practice and everyone knows that if you don’t practice your craft, you lose it  — kinda like the truth about the Iraq War. Seriously though, I turned 30 (30!) and then all of a sudden I was like… oh snap, I’m 30!

And since I’m 30, I learned some stuff this winter, like:

Although it may seem trite, the most poignant truth I gleaned from these frosty winter months is this feeling:

20. Damn, it feels good to be alive 🙂