Those words sprang from the 8-ball's lips Sunday as we rolled down Old Hillsboro Rd in the cold, windy, cloudy grey with snow flurries weather. Good thing for 8-ball I don't fall for his conventional wisdom. I had planned a route that would be about 50 miles (which in reality would have been 75 ish, but definitely under a 100 most likely) that would keep us out of traffic, shelter us some (hopefully) from the wind, and make 8-ball pay for beating me 4 games to zip in fake darts. 8-ball is probably one of the best faux dart hustlers around. It took me 2 games to even get a feel for the bent tipped, plastic, weightless darts. By games 3 and 4 we had a match on our hands with me leading both times and each one came down to a race to the bulls. 8-ball with his freakishly long reach and power toss vs my lob technique (not recommended for weightless plastic bent tipped fake darts), nipped me each time. It was still a good time, mostly because Sexpot (Sexkitten was just too long to type into the phone) Jeanie and H. were in the house heckling me. We'd met up with Eli and headed over to Hogg Wild (yep it looks about how it sounds) to see Clint and the Sullivan Sisters play. I'd seen them before and figured H. would dig them (she did). She doesn't get to enjoy the night life much working weekend nights at the Hospital and school all week long, so it was a rare treat to get out and even rarer to get out with Mike N. is HOT! and Sexpot Jeanie.
We pre-partied at the farm Christmas party. Stockings were stuffed with peppermints and carrots for the horses and hung on the stall doors, lots of goodies with someone making horse head cookies with each horses name on them. I don't ride much with the farm customers as I tend to trail ride vs jump and flat work in the ring, so I don't know many of the people. It was a surprise then to see Crow and Ian's names on a cookie. I guess not so much since everybody loves Crow and Ian is the infamous "wild" one, but still it was a nice surprise. I didn't eat it though as it seemed weird eating my horses head, there's gotta be some sort of weird voodoo associated with that.
Friday night was H.'s introduction to sushi. Yeah that can always go either way. Peters is the best. The Mannondale loves Peters. I ordered eel (my favorite), salmon, and tuna rolls, a snake roll, and the Chef's choice nagiri cut. H. actually loved the eel and didn't mind the nagiri cuts, but preferred the rolls. It was a nice night with The Mannondale, Fred and Libby, Freshie Beth and her Zero Greg (hah!). Followed by a trip to kroger for milk, cereal, and a $9.99 movie, this time 'The Goonies'.
For those of you looking for some weekend excitement, rent or buy 'The Goonies', then grab your favorite bottle of Stranahans/Makers Mark/Templeton Rye and some shot glasses. Every time Mikey puffs his inhaler, take a shot. Every time someone yells (and there is a lot of yelling) shut-up, be quiet, or shoosh, take a shot. Every time Mikey's older brother works out in a bandana, take a shot. Guaranteed a good time (or to at least improve the movie viewing).
Luckily my ankle injury's remaining pain seems to be contained to the myo-sopo-lipa-alidocious ligament (ask 8-ball, he can pronounce it) which means riding won't further injure the sprain. However, my flexibility in it isn't normal and this turned into me favoring it. About 35 miles into the ride that favoring unveiled itself as knee pain, so I cut the planned 50 (75) mile ride short and we headed home with 49.something miles on the odometer.
PS. Jen the new Walz flappy is fan-#@*king-tastic! It's all I've needed to keep my head warm in the cold so far. Perfecto! Thanks again.
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