The Last Deathly Grip of Winter-

Somebody stole an hour's worth of sleep from me last night, but that's ok, because I was about done with Winter anyway. I'm not big into wintertime sports, and I very much do not ski. My one experience skiing was about 20 years ago when a "friend" who was also a ski instructor decided that the quickest way to teach me was to strap a pair of skis on my feet, drag me to the top of a local mountain only slightly smaller than the Matterhorn, point me down over the edge of a 80-degree downhill slope and push me off.

Well, perhaps I exaggerate a bit. But I'm no fan of heights, and it looked to me as if we were high enough up to be in danger of getting whacked by a passing Space Shuttle. And then there was my question of "once you get going, how do you stop?" to which my helpful friend replied that usually you hit something.

I have not been near a ski slope since. My wife used to cross-country ski, and if we had had snow for more than a few weeks this year I might have tried it. Maybe next year. But downhill skiing, no way. While I was frantically tobaggoning down that slope on my keister those many years ago, I thought I saw Death ski past me, and I know he's still out there on a slope someplace, lurking...