Not Back in the Swing

I kind of lost interest in blogging for awhile...so this is an attempt to get back into the swing of it. I've been seeing faces all over the place (and me without my camera), so I took that as a sign that the Internet was calling. Or, maybe it was just a prank call.

I'll report now on my latest obsession, which is finding new cross country skis. It started with a desire to have a "backup" pair of my sweet Revolution skis (no longer made), which I love, but, it turns out, not as much as I love the new mid-length wide-body skis (which I rented just for kicks) that are all the rage. It was kind of like riding in a Lincoln after driving a go cart.

So then I decided maybe I should sell off some of my obsolete equipment, and promptly unloaded three sets of skis, boots and poles via my employee newsletter at work (well, 1 of the ski sets was Lenore's, but still, I was feeling pretty successful).

I was poised to buy...and had my heart set on the new Fischer Desire skis that are alleged to be strong enough for a man but made for a woman (even though they looked girly and were not red like the boys' skis, grrr). It became an obsession when it started proving impossible to find skis in my size or boots that didn't suck. Then, when I finally found some, the guy didn't want to make the sale. Seriously. I was all set to fork over $200+, but he didn't have boots that fit me. I was willing to pay full price for a USED pair of rental boots, and he didn't want to do it. Whatever. After much googling and almost resorting to a spreadsheet (the horror), I finally found skis and bindings that I hope will be the same if not better online at REI. Since boots in my size appear to be few and far between, I had to buy them separately. Fortunately, most stuff is on sale now. I found a pair at Village Cycle Sport on sale and two pairs at L.L. Bean that were $20% off, then Beth got me another 15% off, so that was a sweet deal (even though they charge like 10% sales tax...don't get me started). I'm currently "testing" all three -- two pairs of Rossignol (36 and 37) and a pair of Alpinas.



My goal is to find something that won't give me blisters and that keep my feet warm. It's a pretty tall order. So I've been wearing them at work and took the Rossies on a test ride today on a treadmill in the fitness center. People think I'm odd, but then again, that's nothing new. What I really want to know, is what is UP with manufacturers putting goddamn flowers on everything that's for women?



It drives me nuts. If it isn't flowers on my ski boots, it's fucking bows on my long underwear.

Case in point: Here's Addi, who didn't even realize her jaunty red bow was peeking out of her new Xena robe.



ENOUGH with the prissy shit already, do you hear me, lame-ass manufacturers? Also, pink and other pastel colors? Really not necessary. We get it. We're girls. We can still kick your ass and make a batch of popovers all in the same day.

Speaking of popovers...(recipe found in the Pseudo Gourmet)



I forgot how fabulous these little pockets of eggy joy were. I recently made some for Beth to prove my point, and she's joined me in the obsession (yes, another one -- did I mention she also bought new skis?). I just ordered a new popover pan from Amazon (I will be so sad when my free year-long Prime membership expires in August!) and almost considered paying $3.99 for overnight shipping. I know -- it's that serious. Note the assist above by a Perky Potholder, though Beth made it, so I'm not sure if it's really perky or not. These buggers did NOT want to come out of the pan. Hence the need for new designer non-stick cookware.

In addition to getting back into the swing of blogging (which I may not be, to be honest), I unleashed my inner soup nazi last night and made two vats of delicious soup: chicken noodle and sweet potato & chickpea stew. My freezer is filled with soup, homemade bread and cat food. Bring it on, just don't turn off my electricity.

In other mundane news, I'm still addicted to Glee and Weeds and looking forward to getting re addicted to Dexter. My interest is waning in Bones and Chuck. I may need to branch out and view programming with multiple-word titles. Not anytime soon though. There's only so much time one can devote to Netflix and still get in an adequate amount of this.



Gracie thinks she's a tiny lap dog, which she is most assuredly not.