Ashley's Fables: The Tale of the Rollerskater and Inertia

I have been itching to rollerskate here lately.  As a young teen, I rollerskated often at Skate Country and in various driveways and parking lots.  I also have been itching to spend some time outdoors at one of the lovely parks in our fair city.  Because of my past driveway-skating experience, I thought to myself, "Oh Sequel!  There are a great many parks with sidewalks which are paved similarly to the skating driveways of Ye Olde 1998!  Perhaps thee might take the rollerblades out midday when few are about and have fun skating tymes!"  So I put on an old T-shirt and some jeans I didn't mind scuffing up - these would prove to be the only decisions made all afternoon that would not qualify as "Profoundly Stupid."

So I consulted Professor Google and found a local park which is near my home and has a nice multi-purpose "trail," which in this context is code for "sidewalk we wove through the woods."  Upon driving and parking, I was pleased to see picturesque flower beds and a nice smooth sidewalk with some small, innocuous inclines and declines.  So I put on my blades and tottered out in the sunshine, a little Bambi-esque at first because it's been a long time since I've skated.  But after a couple of minutes, I got my sea legs.  Then I reached a small hill, on which the sidewalk curved around to make the slope a lot less sharp than it is if you take the steps straight down.  There was also a handrail available.  "Great!" thought I.

Scientificism the First: Inertia does not care how sharp or not-sharp the slope is, most especially if you are on wheels.

I started to roll down the slope, feeling a little nervous.  Then I got a lot nervous, because my speed got a lot faster.  I tried lowering my skate brake- not so effective.  Realizing that the longer I waited to take action, the worse the inevitable stop would be, I reached for the handrail.

Scientificism the Second: Inertia thinks the best way to deal with being dissed by a hand grasping a hand rail is this:

So, not such a smooth start.  But the sharpest part of the decline was only a short distance, so being the optimist I am, I kept both hands on the handrail and lowered myself down until the sidewalk was just about even and decided to give it another go.

Scientificism the Third: Inertia does not think "just about even" is even enough.

My skates began rolling much faster than I wished, so I resorted to my old trick from Skate Country: when in doubt, skate off of the smooth surface.

Scientificism the Fourth: Inertia deals with moving from rink floor to carpet much more calmly than moving from sidewalk to grass.

Second spill of the day and still within sight of my car.  Still, I thought perhaps some of my troubles could be explained by being out of practice and also by being less-than-aerodynamic.  So for my last attempt, I decided to bend my knees so that I could use my weight to steer and maybe survive the elevation changes that way.

Scientificism the Fifth: Inertia appears to be cool with that.

I crouched on my skates and took a couple of curves uneventfully, if more quickly than I would have liked.  I began to get that weird mixture of terror and euphoria you get on a roller coaster: you are not in control of this experience, but MAN is it fun!

Until, of course, one of those curves is 90 degrees.

Scientificism the Sixth: Inertia laughs at your feeble grasp of physics.

CRASH.

I looked at the rest of the trail and realized that, although they were slight to the eye, there were elevation changes all along this trail, and I hadn't even approached an incline yet.  At first, I was despondent.  I wanted to try something new and had totally made an idiot of myself.  I felt like a failure and a loser and wished to melt into the tree roots that had broken my fall.

But then I realized, "Oh Sequel!  Thou art an amateur comedienne!  Document this, thine spectacular failure, and let the world gaze upon your complete humiliation in blog post form, where you can at least claim First Dibs on making fun of yourself!"

So let's laugh at the fallout from my falls!  Yay!

Right hip caught the impact from the last fall.  This is why the beat-up-able jeans were a good idea as opposed to shorts: no scrapes on the skin beneath.  Not even a bruise.

Left knee caught the impact from the second fall.  As with the right hip, the jeans protected me from scraping and bruising.

Caught myself with my left hand a couple of times.  Dirty, but not bad at all.

Little scraping on the right wrist

The worst of the injuries: a teeny elbow scrape.  Elbows, by the way, are very hard to photograph in a way that makes it obviously an elbow...this is why my eyes are all up in this picture.

A shot from In The Field...this was about a minute after the final fall.

Shirt all grass-stained.  Fun!

All things considered, it was actually not too bad.  I wasn't hurt and I gave it a good few tries before giving up.  Andrew's come back from dredging with WAY worse injuries.  So now it'll be parking lots and superflat sidewalks (hard to come by here in the foothills of the Blue Ridge).  Like, really flat.  Like, maybe I'll take a level with me next time...

The Irish Tan: A Look at My Summers

Every summer, I undergo a transformation.  The winter so stifles my spirit that by the time summer comes, I'm ready to soak up the sun, sprout some freckles and start a process that takes my skin color from one extreme to another:

 

As you can see, it's a major upheaval that requires a specific process.

This process usually begins around this time of the year, when the sun starts to come out and the temperatures rise, making the outdoors not only tolerable, but in some instances preferable.  It is during this time of year that I start venturing into my backyard for short sunning sessions, taking all the necessary SPF precautions.

 

The once-a-week backyard sun sessions are a good start.  Then, usually around the beginning of the summer, I get the opportunity to go on a beach vacation, which in my feeble mind will undoubtedly become my personal Shangri-La regardless of the presence of other humans...

 

But after a few days on this beach vacation, I note with some dismay that the parts of my body that have been regularly exposed to the sun are not really distinguishable from the parts of my body that have never been exposed to the sun.

 

After having reached this epiphany and having had a night to sleep on it, the next morning's sun preparation becomes a much higher-stakes event.

 

"Ok, I'll only wear it for a few minutes.  I'll just go poolside with it, stay out for a very short while, and then dart back in."

So I slather on the mystical tanning lotion and take it to the pool, at which point I am invariably too distracted to notice that the sun has become a little more agitated.

 

There's a reason the sun has taken notice.

You know how those special tanning-specific lotions work?

SUN PHEREMONES.

 

The sun is driven mad with affection for the lotion.  And because the lotion is attached to my skin, it becomes the hapless honeymoon destination for a very pro-jazz-hands group of sunbeams and lotion molecules.

 

(Sunbeam not to be confused with Spaghatta Nadle)

Also, I linked to a clean Spaghatta Nadle clip - the others are more vulgar

The meeting of these star-crossed lovers does not bode well for me.

 

For a while, I declare myself as being No Longer on Speaking Terms with the sun.

 

But after a while, the burns go away and my alleged "highly rententive memory" dismisses the memories of being burned in favor of remembering lines from Scrubs and I resume my backyard ritual.

 

Unfortunately, I don't reach this point until the summer starts to draw to a close and conditions are becoming increasingly hostile towards sunbathing.

 

So I get all the UVA and UVB rays (again, with SPF 15) I can until the shivering causes me to fall off my sun chair, finally achieving my impeccable Irish Tan.

Then winter comes and I get to the business of fading it and wishing summer were back.

Snow Day II: Snowier

 

We open our portrait gallery with a shot of the front yard this morning from my front window.

Allow me to translate this portrait for you:

 

So, yeah.  Between the obscured driveway and the big ol' hill, I am certainly not going anywhere today.

 

A sample footprint, roughly three inches deep.

 

Remember the brick outline photo?  This is the same spot taken from about the same angle...

 

Our frozen fishy pond in the back yard!

 

Red inedible berries frosted over.

 

My little scarecrow, still sitting there since early October.

 

My masterpiece: Medium Snowman Whelchel and his Snow Piano!

 

A close-up of Medium Snowman Whelchel.  You can see the lines where I carved him out of a big ol' pile of snow.

 

The Snow Piano, with pine needles and leaves painstakingly placed to mimic piano keys :)

 

Making a statement to anyone who would wish to advertise on my car.

 

Making a statement to anyone who would doubt Andrew's essential flyness.

Why Georgia Is The Best Place To Live, Ever...Ever...Ever

(or, SNOW DAY, Y'ALL!)

The following graph displays the average and record highs and lows for Georgia.  (From Weather.Com)

Even at the records, there are still states in the contiguous US that get hotter and colder.  Georgia gives you just the right dose of delicious tropical summer days and days like today...

 

My mother-in-law's front yard yesterday as the snow began to accumulate.  My father-in-law (normally a rather stoic man) was giddy with excitement, continually calling out the phrase "White Christmas!"

 

The far end of my mother-in-law's yard yesterday.  I love how you can see the falling flakes suspended in the air.

 

The view through our big front window last night, with the tree lights reflected in the pane.

 

My front yard today.

 

My tree in front of the window.  It's like a dadgum Thomas Kinkade painting!

 

The walkway in front of our house.  I love how the snow outlines the bricks.

 

Sugar frosted foliage.  Also, the scarecrow from Halloween/Thanksgiving that still sits in my front yard.

 

The trees in the front yard.  (Taken from inside)

 

Even though we park under a carport, that sneaky snow managed to cover our rear windshields!

 

Tiny Snowman Whelchel says, "Ashley used her husband's gold panning gloves while building me, which is why I'm a little red.  Also, Happy Snow Day!"

Merry Christmas!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

How to Spend a Saturday

Sitting on your couch watching German movies on YouTube.  Teh awesome.