...Trippin' in Finland

       "Sometimes the lights all shining on me;

        Other times I can barely see,

        Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it's been."

Well said, Dead. Please look beyond the drug innuendos in "trip" and the reminiscent lyrics of simpler times when "sweet jane" was a gentle, fulfilling frequenter to the band, and see the deep poetry in the words. It occurred to me while listening to my Grateful Dead Pandora station that those lines accurately sum up my soccer career thus far. I definitely have not had the easiest road, thanks to my body's need to be a statistic on the pie chart of women soccer players with torn ACL's (I contributed twice!), but what hours on the road cruising to soccer tournaments with my dad have taught me is that you have to keep truckin' on. And somehow after hours of rehab, painful months of recovery, and multiple moments of near insanity I have found myself in Finland--talk about a strange trip!

I have been here now for just over a week and am positively convinced that Mr. Jerry Garcia made at least one or more trips to Finland. Sure those trips were probably LSD induced, but reality is just our individual perception anyway, right? So as far as he was concerned and I am concerned now, he was here, physically sledging through this dang snow. Walking home for Jumbo yesterday (the mall that has become my big adventure nearly everyday) was the first time in my life I had the pleasure of finding myself ankle deep in a 7-11  slushy. Yup, that cold, very cold, icey concoction was drowning my sock in its arctic waters. Though my right foot was suffering from hypothermia, my left was able to avoid the dangerous, glacial waters and toe-heel onto higher ground. The dry ground is a red gravel that is dumped onto the streets everyday to save oblivious or inexperienced travelers like me to avoid sharing the same fate as the Titanic. (Coming out in 3-D in America? Jealous.)

My left foot lands and I am safe. Or so I thought. Enter scene: right, fully saturated shoe. Not much grip on the bottom of my trusty Uggs when they are in this unfortunate state. And what is really unfortunate is the intense fear that overcomes your body when you feel like you are about to eat it hard on the ice pavement. In an instant my life flashes before my eyes and a giant, donut-shaped, pool flotation device rolls across my vision. It floats by haunting that my future, due to my broken tail bone of course, will consist of hours sitting in its uncomfortable ring.

Please note that I did not fall and my tail bone is still fully intact. My heart? Back to its steady, controlled beat, though it is still  recovering from the psychological damage it encountered on its journey from my throat to near birthing. Not that I know what that sort of trauma really feels like, but from what I see on TV it looks the miz. I apologize for the graphic imagery of birthing a heart, especially to you boys. It's a man's world, so I hear, but he's nothing without a woman. And women give birth. To her heart, when she is about to shatter her face and/or tail bone into a million pieces on frozen gravel.

A tad dramatic perhaps, but accurate in that my likelihood of remaining injury free while the ice lasts is dismal . Fingers are crossed and I desperately am trying to be aware of my every step, but I feel like the clock is ticking and it is a race between my safety in the arms of spring and my downfall from the slippery snipers below. Who will win out in this epic battle between good and evil?

Again with the dramatics, but now you know my daily, mini heart attacks that are created by a mere jaunt to the mall. It's hard out here for a pimp and these Vantaa streets keep me on my toes. Literally.

Sorry it took so long to write this week. I've been really busy catching up with my man Ashton during his glory days of hosting Punk'd. Thanks for all the positive feedback and your ongoing support.

Peace and Love,
Cat

             PICTURE TIME: Looks unassuming, huh?