It's one of those silent nights people sing about this time of year: there's a couple of inches of freshly-fallen snow
and no wind or sound to speak of. Not that there's ever much traffic around here, but I think it's been over an hour
since I last heard a car in the distance.
Despite the cold and the snow, my hair is still plastered onto my face and my clothes are wet and
clingy with sweat.
It's possible that doing several sets of squats has had something to do with this. In fact, as I'm
catching my breath typing this, I'm pretty sure there's a correlation here.
It's been a good day and a particularly thigh-intensive one, especially for a cold day in December. The
day started out dark and overcast with the mountains disappearing into the beginnings of the snowstorm.
So, naturally, I figured I'd better get any biking I planned to do in early, while the trails were still dry.
It was a good day for riding, even if it never got much above freezing, and with half the day looking like
it was just about to start snowing, I ended up riding quite a bit longer than I'd originally planned.
It felt good, despite the cold, except that once I did stop, it seemed like nothing wanted to move in any
direction besides what they'd been doing for the past few hours. Riding was easy and felt natural,
but all of a sudden, the whole "walking" concept wasn't working quite right and it took a moment to get
all the parts moving the way they're supposed to for this particular operation.
That part was a little weird, but one thing you can count on when riding on a cold, December day: if you do
something that looks silly out on the trails, there won't be anybody else around to notice how silly you look.
In between the biking and the squatting, the mail arrived, undeterred by the snow, just like the
mail-deliverer's creed says. Nothing too exciting, but it did include other examples of holiday horrors
you can get for your house.
Today's winner of the "Holiday Horror" award comes from the store where Buzz Lightyear presumably
buys his washcloths: "Bed, Bath, and Beyond!":
Reindeer Card Holders,
possibly the ugliest adaptation of that particular tundra-dwelling beast ever designed for household use.
If I suddenly get hit with a torrent of incoming holiday cards that overwhelms my available shelf space,
I'm sure I can invent some more palatable solution for card storage.
(Involving LEGOs, perhaps; you can do anything with LEGOs.)
Fortunately, I don't have anyone on my Christmas list who deserves these.
But in case you do, I'm sure Bed, Bath, and Beyond! still has some in stock.
(Not that I've checked personally; I already have plenty of washcloths.)
...speaking of which, I think I'll go make use of one.
...or maybe a squeegee.