Monday, February 28, 2011

A Day in Pictures

Here is last Thursday (Feb 24) in pictures:

Arriving at work. Sunrise (blurry because I took the picture while driving).
Looking down the airfield on base. 

Leaving work (same scene as sunrise)
You can just see the mountain range in the distance ( *not* Denali). 

 Walk at Creamer's Field:

On the trail

Saw people skijoring at Creamer's-- a sport in which people ski while being pulled by dogs. It looks like a lot of fun but not a sport for the *Sister Marys of us.
Skijoring trail marker
Trails marked for dogs are serious business and one should stay off those trails. 
Just after sunset, parking lot at Creamer's Field:

 *A note about the term "Sister Mary". I first heard this term years ago from my friend Karen M, when after witnessing me trip on the smooth cement and almost doing a full-on face plant, said, "oh you must be a Sister Mary full of Grace". That I am. I have been known to do full somersaults in the air having tripped over nothing. I'm legendary for whacking my own head when opening a cupboard door and falling into a wall while while walking down a hall way.  I have fallen off my chair in front of a group of first graders. I was sober. Grace. Yes, that's the term people equate with me. Truly, it's amazing that I can walk in heels as well as I can (and oh sister, how can I!)  I have other friends who are just as coordinated and graceful as I, and collectively we refer to ourselves as "sisters". When discussing different activities we categorize the activity based on its suitability for sisters ("Is it safe for a sister?" Or, "yeah, a sister could pull that off.") Skijoring is decidedly not a suitable activity for a sister as undoubtedly I'd end up pulling a Sonny Bono. With my speech therapy training I'm all too familiar with TBIs (traumatic brain injuries). I'm not going anywhere near skis while harnessed to a dog -- I have a hard enough time getting snowshoes buckled to my boots! I wouldn't mind trying dog mushing though, with someone else driving (hopefully they'd know where they're going). But skijoring? No. I'd be better off jumping out of an airplane. For real.

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