Air, where is the air?

It has been so long since I looked at my blog, I couldn't remember my password.

I was able to reset it without calling Richard. I am fairly proud of myself!

I wilted, as delicately as a 300 lb can wilt, into the couch this afternoon, still decorated with snowpants, multiple layers of socks, boots, long johns and garments (which had been on strapped to this delicate physique since yesterday morning - what a smell), long sleeve shirt and coat.
I have returned from attempted suicide (overnight snow shoeing scout activity). I have not be able to catch my breath for 18 hours. I waddled up to the cabin approximately an hour and twenty minutes after the first scouts and leaders had arrived yesterday afternoon. (we all started together) I spent more time bent over gasping for air and staring at my shoes then looking down the "trail". It averaged about every six steps, depending in the attempted incline. I now remember that I am a musician's son. Why hadn't someone reminded me at 12:30 PM Friday morning when I was at walmart trying on snow pants over my jeans, while sitting in the isle way because no one was manning the "try on the clothes booth" thingies. The worst part was the three pair that were too small to go over my hips but also refused to come off my calves. Someone certainly must have wondered why a large bald man was losing a wrestling match on the floor of walmart with pairs of black and bright blue bib snow pants. I eventually won every match, but the pants got fairly dirty from rolling on the floor.

I am home now.