Count Down to Kick-Off

We've had some unusually cold weather here in the Sangre de Christo Mountains these last few days, with readings of 17 degrees (and worse) below in the pre-dawn hours up on our Ski Mountain. It's generated a bit of whining from the cute Co-Ed, but, thankfully, the sun has been so bright and the skies so clear that it actually seems pretty warm on the slopes, at least until around 2:30 pm when some of the runs lose their sun.

Of course, this generates a need at the end of the ski day to adjourn for a couple of hours to our bedroom and huddle under the sheets for some shared bodily warmth, and other "activities".

"Do you think (our daughter) sees us as anti-social, Slave?"

"No.... just lazy.... she's huddled under her covers too, on the internet....."

This afternoon we may come in off the mountain a tad earlier than usual to catch the Pussycats play the Texans, a game that Slave does not have much hope for. (Though I note a Houstonian friend here has backed off a betting opportunity, poor mouthing his team's chances too.)

But my major focus (other than Mistress's clean shaven folds) over the weekend will be Monday night's historic confrontation between my alma mater and the team from Alabama.

Our daughter set the tone when she gave me the Christmas gift, shown below:

I know, if I am a true fan, I'd fire up the grill, or stick this sucker in our Kiva fire place, and brand my team's insignia on a handy apendage prior to game time!  (Maybe only if we win!)

Truth be told, my enthusiasm for this particular university has waned a bit in the last year, as they unnecessarily waded into a fight over whether religious institutions should be required to provide the same health benefits (including birth control coverage) that regular employers must provide.  As a father of girls, I sure think so!  This article in the Washington Post talks about that, and whether the affinity for those of my generation who grew up Catholic should automatically be fans of the Fighting Irish.

But while I may have a bone to pick with the current administration, my Irish blood runs deep, and I have to admire a group of players and coaches who have fought through adversity to put together a (so far) perfect season. Indeed, our family lore includes a story about my long departed grandmother fingering a rosary while listening on her old table top radio to Notre Dame games.

Plus, look at the opposition. A school most memorable for the moment in my adolescence when George Corley Wallace stood on the steps to bar the admission of an African American student!  And while the University, with the assistance of some Federal Marshalls and the National Guard came around to learn the competitive benefits of adding some "color" to their sports teams, I'm not persuaded that their color has really changed all that much.

I mean, what's with the symbol of the GOP as their team "mascot"?

And why would you name your team after a laundry detergent?  Just for product placement kick backs?

Yes, ND is clearly the underdog in this big game. But our team has played that role to some success in the past, including a bowl game in 1973 against 'Bama when a national title was on the line.  Bear Bryant nearly ate his famous fedora after that one.

Mistress and the cute Co-Ed are already making alternative plans for Monday night, knowing that being near me at moments like this can be less than relaxing.

I may even have to go find a rosary!

The Co-Ed Has Landed

We've had two great ski days here at the mountain hideaway, though its been a little cold overnight: 8 below at sunrise these last two mornings. But the southwest sun lights things up nicely, warming our days and making the slopes tolerable if you bundle up nicely.

Then last night, Mistress and Slave slogged down to the airport (a 3 hour drive) to pick up our cute Co-Ed who will join us for a few days of skiing and eating at some of her favorite local joints.

It means Mistress and Slave will have to tone things down a bit.

"Remember to close the bedroom door, Slave....."

"Yes, Mistress....."

In the meantime, we're a little worried about the WC who has a bit of a medical relapse. Maybe he's done a little too much heavy lifting (or chicken choking?) over the holidays. If he's not careful, I;m going to force hime to undergo an IME from UCTMW's new medical director / soothsayer, who touts himself as a "Physical Pain & Emotional Trauma Relief Specialist" who no doubt can get to the bottom of this new development. So you better be careful, big guy! Get some rest and make someone else do the cooking and driving until you heal properly!

Happy New Year!

Mistress and Slave had what amounted to an almost pure day of rest yesterday, as snow gently fell here on our high desert hideaway.

While Molly did catch that 9 am Yoga class, after she was done channeling all that positive energy, she adjourned to our couch in front of a glowing fireplace for some reading, napping, reading, and napping.

Slave was happy to join in.

Then, at around 6:30 pm we bundled up and trundled down through the snow to a local restaurant in the neighborhood that had a romantic fixed menu New Year's Eve dinner for all of us locals brave enough to wander out into the cold.

Bubbly was consumed, and we struck up a conversation with none other than "Mattress Mary" and her artist husband. Mary has been mentioned here before - she runs a local mattress / furnishings store that advertises on the solar radio station where she also does occasional movie reviews. We toasted the memory of her dog Molly, who famously disappeared in August from the place she was boarded while Mary was off on a buying trip to the Big Apple.

She's hoping Molly was taken for a stray by some loving passers by and now has a new home. (As opposed to being eaten by bears or flattened by a semi).

It's always fun to make new friends on New Year's Eve!

On the walk home,  snow still falling, we strolled by the local Catholic Church, where Mass was just letting out and the parishioners were wishing the Padre a happy anno nuevo.

We agreed it was one of our nicest New Year's Eves ever. We hope yours was a good one too, compadres!

Now for some wake-up sex and  deep powder skiing!

Still Horny After All These Years

Mistress and Slave have settled into a very comfortable two-a-day sexual routine here in the high desert, where right now a light and fluffy snow is falling. (Better to provide a cushion if we fall off that over-hyped fiscal cliff tonight?)

Yesterday was a relaxing one for us: morning sex, then several hours of lolling about the cabin as Slave watched  some meaningless football, and Mistress plowed through a book.

I was a little disappointed as the NFL chips fell and it became apparent that my Pussycats would be playing in Houston rather than New England this coming weekend.  Mistress and I were contemplating some sexy stakes to bet against Suzanne, Jay and Tammy over at All Mine in the event her Pats and my 'Gals had that momentous confrontation in the "wild card" round.

Oh well, maybe next year.  I don't think it's very likely the Pussycats will make it past both Houston and then the WC's Donkeys to the AFC Championship game.

At some point in early afternoon, we rallied for a cold weather, high altitude bike ride, all bundled up for temperatures at around 30 degrees. It was definitely a challenge, but we survived, ending up both sweaty and freezing by the time we slid into our snow covered drive. Then it was time for a nap, some afternoon sex, and a dinner date with some old friends from Oklahoma at an old Cantina in town, where some laid back jazz was provided by a local combo.

Both of our friends are retired from higher ed. But, amazingly, they drove out here with her parents, both in their early 90's. The close confines of an 18 hour car ride, and an overheated condo had given them a bad dose of cabin fever, so they were happy to ditch their elderly companions for an evening out with us.

They did share an amusing tale: At Christmas her Mother (the one in the early 90's) quieted the crowd with notice of an important announcement: was it plans to move into assisted living, or pass on their ample firearms collection to those more capable of a straight shot?

No, she proclaimed to all, including her grandchildren:

"I'm 93 .... and I still get horny!"

Now those are encouraging words for a sex blogger heading toward mid-60's!

Happy New Year to all of our friends, followers and lurkers!  May 2013 cum early and often for all of you, with or without a fiscal cliff to tumble down!