Good lord, I've gotten soft. I grew up surfing New England winters with a cardboard-stiff third-hand wetsuit and no booties. I've hacked my way up numerous frozen waterfalls in the Rockies, picked ice chunks the size of playing cards out of my beard at 18,000ft in Mexico, got blown off Mt. Adams in February by an 80mph gust of wind that froze my jacket thermometer at -20.
What I'm saying is this: cold and I have spent some time together, and it's been pretty rad.
But now it isn't.
Which is why I'm huddled next to a space heater at my in-laws in Connecticut. Bitching.
But 'hardship' makes us thankful, and here's what I'm thankful for as we stare down the line of another new year.
Surfboards. All of them, really, no matter who shaped them. This one's for local shredster Jon, and is off to the glasser this week.
|6'8. Egg. 4+1|
|This is what happens when you Google Image 'Electric Blanket'|
Barbie Dream House. I shit you not. We didn't encourage our girls to join the Barbie Army, but avoiding it is as impossible as avoiding pictures of that one Kardashian's ass . For the last five days they've been going to town on the Barbie Dream House like it's their job. 40+hrs, only two fights (both elevator related). Them's good numbers.