I am toadily roto (ducking now). Despite frigid early morning temperatures again today, we dragged ourselves out to ski. If I ski even three days in a row, I get into the right space of glide. Sigh. I am not there yet this year. In a rather ironic twist of life, the last time I got back into glide was when Grandroobly was dying and I would drive out to the Algonquin ski trail every afternoon and ski the eight-mile loop. It took me (am I remembering this right?) an hour and a half or so and I am a “classic” skier, not a skate skier. Grandroobly was an excellent cross-country skier up into his early eighties when he stopped due to worries about knee injuries. Maybe not a good idea but I only have an approximate idea about what was like to ski in Grandroobly’s ski boots. And the Algonquin Ski Trail probably isn’t the most exciting trail on earth but it is beautiful in its own way and it takes about five minutes to drive there from The Commander’s house and there is almost always plenty of snow in Da Yoop until, well, I dunno, about April maybe? I may be exaggerating a bit, there isn’t usually enough snow to actually ski on in April. I mean, enough snow might fall but, by the time you get your skis on, it melts.

Anyway, we got a good little ski in today and then we finished packing up and hit the road. The driving was great today. Brilliant sunshine and dry pavement and not tooooo many 90-mph speed demons out there on the I75 SUV Speeeeeeedway. I got off the freeway at North Territorial and took the “back roads” the rest of the way so we could check out the deer population on N. Maple and see the sunset over the Urine River. And now. Laundry and groceries and a spec review tomorrow and life just goes on and on bumpity bumpity bump. Just like many of the freeways in our beautiful, long-suffering Great Lake State.

P.S. The “big” guy (aka adult) in yesterday’s parachute pic is the UU, aka, the GG’s identical twin (Uncliest Uncle, get it?). The two bigger boys are his boys and the small boy is Grandmothertrucker’s oldest, and he’s 26??? or 27??? now. So. Bumpity bump. Or maybe hippity hop is better.

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