March, then April, then May, Usually

Finals are nearly final, the semester is simmering slowly southward, and my plane ticket home is purchased. It must be April. Yes, it is April. It comes every year after March and before May (except in 1499, when Nicollo Machiavelli officially banned April for one year in an effort to celebrate his thirtieth birthday sooner, which was on 3 May). Like the rest of my life, this semester was marked by two things- skiing and food. I skiied every week, and ate every day. Sometimes even two or three times a day. I worked hard, took some exams, and even made it to the gym once. I played a lot of basketball, funded an entire Dollar-Theater-employee's college education one movie at a time, celebrated Flag day of Canada (I celebrated by eating maple syrup, watching hockey, and making a 'gushing' noise like I was at Niagara Falls) and I did a lot of math. And by a lot, I mean if you could quantify how much math I did, and put it into a container, the container would have to be at least as big as three of the four compartments in a heifer's stomach. This Summer I have much to look forward to. Running in Hyde park in the morning, eating shortbread at the Orangery, and the crepuscular magic of London and the Theatre. April sure is a nice month. Maybe I will name one of my children April. She will have to be my fourth child though, becuase I already have three great unisex names picked out: Malachi, Jamal, and Ezra.

2009 Ski Season, Come and Gone

People usually think of April as a time of new beginnings, often overlooking the sad endings. To me, April is a month of alphas and omegas. Once such omega was this year's ski season, which was officially decommissioned on April 11, 2009. It was an incredible season, and will be missed sorely. The season commenced prematurely on November 26, 2008, but doctors were able to revive the season with some manmade devices and a facelift. The snow was naked and scant on that pre-Thanksgiving day at Snowbird, but it was a joyous day nonetheless. New skis were in order, and purchased in the off season; their debut was welcomed and gladsome. The 2009 season ended late, on April 11, 2009 at Solitude, just shy of Easter. The six month season was the longest on record and accounted for exercise, enjoyment, soreness, sociality, and memories during an equivalent time period as developing a baby 2/3 of the way. It's hard to give an inanimate idea, such as a ski season, the proper respects since it doesn't use a pillow (that's my usual go-to gift at funerals), but after some thought and meditation on the tanning bed, I decided to recount some memories as my way of saying, "Holla, 2009 Ski Season. Holla." One such memory was watching the ski patrol at Sundance chase down a cow moose in broad daylight. The she-moose (if you say that really quickly outloud, and slur the hyphen, it sounds like schmooze) was defiant and did not want to leave the groomed trails. The ski patrol personell clearly had not earned their zoology merit badges, and were forced to close down the trail as they mulled over different ideas to get rid of the beast. Speaking of ski patrol, on the last day of the season the whole mountain was closed for 30+ minutes due to a thunderstorm/hailstorm. That was a first. I have now skiied and jet-skiied in a thunderstorm/hailstorm. The biggest memory, which has already been spoken of, was Heli-skiing at Powder Mountain. What a trip that was! This season I held a season pass at Sundance and attended weekly, in addition to $15 day at Brighton, Solitude, Snowbird, and Powder Mountain. My family came out to Utah on three separate occassions to ski (in addition to attending a birthday party and a funeral), and they too are deeply sorrowed by the close of the season. One reoccuring theme of this year was trees. I got to know some real close trees this year (see picture above, and notice the position of my two skis and my person. There was no acting involved). I got blood on my face and three rips on my coat sleeve due to some unintentional abutments between wood and David. I really learned what it means to be a tree hugger. This years season is survived by me; my parents; my mono-nucleosed brother with a large spleen; my two sisters; Robert Redford; my Sundance buddy Brad White; my Sundance Sisters Ada and Alicia; and my miniature-Lassie-look-alike dog Lucy. While Lucy didn't actually ski this season, she did offer great personal sacrifice to allow us to make full use of the season. Well Ski Season 2009, we will miss you dearly! Please feel free to offer your condolences and send any flowers/baseball gloves/basketball shoes/cards to David Wallace Bennett.

My Sweatshirt

This is my sweatshirt. Personally, I like it! It catches your attention, it's big enough for two, and you could spend all day reading it and still not get through it all. It's very bright, and many people say it is "Ghetto Fabulous." When I saw it on the rack, I knew it was for me. Unfortunatly, the only sizes they had were XXL and XXXXL. I am tall, but I'm not that big, so I opted on the XXL. Seeeking to be positive, I figure that just means I got double the sweatshirt for the same price as one half as big! Man I am a thrifty shopper. People say my sweatshirt doesn't match my personality, but, well, I guess I don't know what to say about that. What do you think? My sweatshirt is very warm, cozy, and I love the colors. The designs I have discovered on it include (it's so big, more designs are being discovered every day): a telephone pole, a dirt biker, the words "King's County," and some orange. I have sought to make a connection between those symbols, but to no avail. Perhaps the dirt biker is a telecommunications worker, and he is biking in King's County against an orange sun? Another unique feature of the sweatshirt is all the glitter it has. Whenever I wear it I get glitter all over everything. It's on my face, my bag, in my lunch, and all over my homework. Oh well, it's worth it for the style. It's made by "5 and Jungle," which is undefined on urbandictionary.com; consequently I have no idea what it means. If I had to guess, I would say it means "Five O'Clock in the Jungle is Feeding Time."