If You Can't Beat 'em, Might As Well Join 'em
Lately, I have done more than my fair share of bitching about how over the snow I am, yesterday; I finally quit bitching and gave in.
I went snowshoeing in our national park with thirty Cub Scouts and, in a surprising turn of events, did not once feel the urge to throw someone over the cliff, not even myself; that right there is what they call personal growth.
And, as it turns out, snowshoeing is fun or, at least it is fun when one is in the company of women who share one’s slightly perverse sense of humor and, luckily for me; I was in just such company, yesterday.
An example of this occurred as we were trekking through the wilderness; I jokingly inquired as to whether or not it would be ok to eat my companions’ dead bodies in the event that we became hopelessly lost and died, one by one, from exposure. The mom who volunteered the opinion that she would consider it an “organ donation” rather than cannibalism, is exactly the mom that I want tromping alongside me through the snow.
(Or, come to think of it, going down in a plane crash with me over the remote Andes Mountain range because, if you’re ever in the unenviable position of having to eat your seatmate in order to ensure your very survival; you want to be sure there will be no hard feelings in the afterlife.)
So, yes, I enjoyed a winter sport, one which required me to:
a) Be outdoors, in the cold
b) with 30 very loud boys and
c) during which alcohol was strictly prohibited.
Personal growth, people. Personal growth.