I went home earlier this month. And when I mean home, I mean my hometown home. The place I've pretty much avoided for 13 years.
Of much more interest was staying in a mountain cabin owned by my new step dad's momfriend, or whatever the hell I should be calling her. Skiing Mt. Hood brings back very good memories for me though. I took the second ski lift to the top of the mountain and it was the clearest fucking day I've ever seen up there. And of course I forgot my camera. You could see Jefferson, Helens, Sisters and everything inbetween. Amazing.
They gave me these new idiot-proof skiis that were about half the legth of the old 90's ten feet ones. They're about a half foot wide too. I was like a freakin' pro shooshing back and forth down hills that used to tumble me before. My dad got angry at me because I initially refused to wear a bright blue ski shell that looked and smelled like it was circa 1989. Bastard snagged the black one and wouldn't let go of it no matter how much I whined. He's an obstinate man but can't stand that quality in others. I'm just offended by 80's clothes and those who make me wear them.
And that was April for me ... oh yeah, I danced in some weird empty night club for my birthday and scored a free champagne. That was fun too.