The battle is over.

This weekend marked a turning point in my life.
It took a decade, but I feel empowered and excited for this new chapter. 

I am no longer a snowboarder.  Well, let's be honest- I never really was.  But that's not the point.  I am now a SKIER!!!  It took 10 years of falling down the mountain, never getting better, and finally getting sick of sore knees and and a bruised bum for me to make the commanding decision. Halfway down Holiday at Summit Central, I fell for the umpteenth time only to sit up and say to Kenny, "I think I'm done." 

And that was it.

We packed up the ol' snowboard and promptly rented skis- and I'm never looking back.
Well, except for in this picture.


Lovin' the pizza.

I am so liberated, so happy. No longer bound to a single board, struggling to face the mountain, straining my knees and fearing the chairlift.  The fact is, folks, that I am not as young as I used to be.  Recovery time takes a bit longer at 27 than it did when I was 17.  And for what?  A not-so-fun experience that I always dreaded, especially when experienced skiers had to wait for me to pick myself up every time I fell and tell me, "We're just having fun today," which is code for "don't feel bad about sucking- we know it must be hard and we'll pretend this is so much fun in the name of 'spending time with friends.'" 
Turns out I am pretty good, too, which is nice.  I guess those years of boarding helped just a little. Now Kenny and I can enjoy this together, getting off the chairlift with ease and smiling over at each other as we sail down our mountain of love. 

This also puts an age-old battle to bed.  For the last six years, the Skiing Vs. Snowboarding Debate has been waging on between Kenny and I.  And he won.  Turns out my husband knew better, for the record.  I have to give him credit.
However, only my clothes shrunk in the last load when the dryer was on too high, so....

Mad Body.

Hot tubs are awkward.
And I bet you know why.
But since I can't hear you, let me share my reasons.

First of all, talk about shocking the body.
"What- it's bathing suit season already?!?" your body cries.
"Well, no.  It's only March. But we're gonna get in a hot tub," you try to reason.
"Um, with who?" Body continues.
"Strangers," you murmer.
"Wait a minute.  Let me get this straight," says Body. "You're about to put on a bathing suit three months early after wintering with comfort food, surround yourself with strangers, and sit around chatting in a hot bath."
"Yes..."
"Good luck. We're gonna need it."  Body sighs.

The best part? Bathing suits only.  Due to the lack of sun necessary to use as an excuse to further cover up in the water, hot tubbing is a cold weather activity and thus you are left with nothing to say about just throwin' on the old suit (minus board shorts) and jumping, I mean slowly lowering yourself, in.

Can't wait.

GAAAAAH

COMPUTERS ARE HAAAAARRRDD!!!
THEY TAKE HOOOOOUUURRRSSS just to do OONNNNEEE THING!!!!

Just had to get that out.  Yelling it into cyberspace is much more acceptable than yelling it out my front door (the neighbors would worry).

Crosseyed

Most of the time, I resist using the phrase: "I love my husband."  Too many folks using social mediums like Facebook feel the need to announce this quite frequently.  I prefer to update my status with more interesting things, such as what I'm eating or my clever take on the weather.

However, there is an exception for every rule.
I will say this: my husband rocks my socks off.
And here's why.

We are both venturing into the world of websites and it's not pretty. MANY hours, almost to the point of tears, have been spent clicking our way around hosts and templates and URLs (I know- that the heck am I even saying?).  Back-to-back we sit, attempting to figure out who we are on the world wide web.
It's nauseatingly overwhelming.
That said, Kenny knows way more about all of this than I do.  Surprised? I didn't think so.  That's like saying I know more about bras than he does- I mean, duh. I have been toiling over my site, wanting to throw my computer every time I couldn't figure out how to change what I wanted to change and just when I thought I should pack it in and give up on the whole thing, Kenny saved me.  He gave me hope.  He gave me know-how. He gave me HTML code.
His final masterpiece will be unveiled when I eventually allow anyone to visit the site. (Hint: it's at the top)
Until then, I will keep looking at fonts until I'm crosseyed and shout from the rooftops: I LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!!

Roomies.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

It's finally happened- Kenny and I are officially roommates.  We attacked the spare room with gusto, moving furniture, going through our piles of stuff, and generally making room for anything/one else besides Kenny and the bed. Honestly, I could no longer stand being the Soldano House Nomad in light of my new creative ventures (a whole 'nother story). Moving any of my papers or books into piles on the microwave, refrigerator, or dresser was completely ridiculous. I just couldn't even take myself seriously.
In order for you to really see the difference, I have included a picture of me typing this post- technology is that crazy- and generally enjoying having a space.
*I also wanted to include a picture of the fab lamp I purchased at Goodwill the day we got the desk.  It was just calling my name and though Kenny was not convinced, a fellow lamp enthusiast sharing the aisle was very encouraging of the look, as was the cashier.  It's growing on him.
Unfortunately, you can also see that we have a long way to go- organizing and decorating alike. Our list of house projects is growing long, from painting tables and chairs to staining other tables and building shelves and bookshelves.  There is a chance we will finish the room sometime before we move.
But let's just stay focused on this small victory for now.