Here’s my jubilant little crooked lopsided bow-legged self out there in Blissland having NO problems skiing with my friend. (Yay foot!!!) We’ve talked about it for at least two years, but various problems kept it from happening. The snow was perfect — slick and fast. It’s been below freezing since it fell which means beautiful, perfect, snow. ❤

Replete, of course, by fox and rabbit tracks…

I have nothing more to say other than I’m VERY happy and looking forward to more adventures as the winter progresses, god willing and I’m not ambushed again by a perfectly flat harmless grassy trail.

Happy selfie

P.S. It seems that anyone who wants to know what my dad looked like can pretty much see from looking at me. Ah, DNA

Heaven’s Interview

IF there is a Heaven and IF I get there and IF there’s a Saint Peter standing there holding the keys and IF he asks, “How was it, sweet cheeks?”

I’ll probably just say, “It was a big blur.”



“No high points?”

“Lots of them, but over all, a blur. It went by too fast to focus.”

“Did you like it?”

“Most of the time I liked it a lot.”

“What did you like best?”

“Mountains. I think I liked mountains most of all. And Switzerland. I loved Switzerland. Is there anything like that here?”

“I have to file a report. Did you bring all those journals?”

“No, don’t be silly, St. Peter. I threw them out years ago.”

“Oh my. Why do you think we inspired you to write them?”

“I dunno. I didn’t want them read after I was dead. That’s catchy. Eminem up here?”

“Stay on topic.”

“I liked it. You know yourself how many times I was slated to eject and fought my way back.”

“That’s true.”

“Some things were disappointing but as my mom used to say — is she here? If she is, do I have to see her?”

“What did your mom used to say?”

“‘I never promised you a rose garden’. But it actually WAS a rose garden. That’s a great metaphor. Beautiful flowers, but not all the time, some pretty bleak seasons when there were no leaves, nothing but thorns and dried up spindly branches. In fact, the rose outside my house in Monte Vista is the perfect rose for this conversation.”

“That’s good enough. And no, you don’t have to see your mother. This is Heaven, remember? But you might want to. You might want to let her tell you she’s sorry.”

“I don’t know, St. Peter. Would she mean it?”

“This is Heaven, I told you, a lot of stuff makes sense up here that didn’t down there. That’s why we always ask ‘How was it?’ You get the chance to think about it, kind of draw up a concise summary, then you come in and, in time, which doesn’t exist here by the way, the thorns and spindly branches show their true nature.”

“Ah, the ‘Dragon Princess‘ thing, right?”

“Pretty much. The difference is that down there the dragon is usually confused and sometimes faithless. Up here, the dragon has the opportunity to see things as they really are and faith isn’t a question anymore. It’s different. It’s Heaven, as I keep reminding you.”

“So she’s here.”

“Yeah, on that cloud, just inside the gate.”

“Oh well. I was warned by a meme on Facebook that the first person I’d see when I died would be my mother.”

“Here are some friends that will keep you company. It’ll be fine.”

“Now I believe it’s Heaven! Hi guys! I missed you!”