In 1989, Joanne Palmer left a publishing career in Manhattan and has missed her paycheck ever since. She is a mom, weekly columnist for the Steamboat Pilot & Today, and the owner of a property management company, The House Nanny. Her new book "Life in the 'Boat: How I fell on Warren Miller's skis, cheated on my hairdresser and fought off the Fat Fairy" is now available in local bookstores and online at booklocker.com or amazon.com.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Joanne Palmer's Life in the 'Boat column appears Wednesdays in the Steamboat Today. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org
Find more columns by Palmer here.
Steamboat Springs In my next life, I want to come back as a Pearl Izumi girl.
Now that I’ve decided, I feel better already.
It doesn’t matter if you believe in reincarnation. Daydreaming about what your next life might be like is a good way to pass the time on a long car trip, when you’re suffering from insomnia or when frustrated with your current circumstances.
For a while, I thought it might be fun to reappear as a member of the British royal family (lots of bling!) but I’ve decided they are too dysfunctional, even by my standards. I do think I want to come back a little shorter just so I can wear high heels. I like being tall. But 5-foot-10 is really a bit tall for heels, unless you want to tower over everyone like Godzilla. Trying to find a pair of dress shoes that don’t have 3- or 4-inch heels is like looking for a cell phone without apps. And heels offer a slimming effect, which depending on the day of the week, can be helpful. So I’m putting in a request to come back as 5-foot-7 or 5-foot-8.
Now, back to the Pearl Izumi girls.
I never knew such creatures existed until the USA Pro Cycling Challenge came to town.
Wowie, what an event!
The Pro Cycling Challenge was electrifying. I spent all day Friday downtown as a volunteer, and I’ve never witnessed such excitement. When I arrived downtown — on my bike, naturally — the sight of Lincoln Avenue took my breath away. Overnight, a town within a town had been born. By 8 a.m., a tower of tents had popped up, enormous TV screens had been erected, stages were strategically positioned and, there on the courthouse lawn, were the podiums.
There was so much to do, see and eat. My friend and I had to sample all the energy drinks and sign up to win an iPad 2 and a Cannondale, among other items. And although we rarely eat meat, we felt obliged to eat a Smashburger since they were one of the title sponsors of the event. It was quite tasty, and the fries didn’t disappoint either.
The whole event was energizing — like having 85 triple cappuccinos.
Then came the awards ceremony and the Pearl Izumi girls. There were two of them, and they glided onto the stage wearing red tops, black skirts and, of course, high heels. Their very important job was to make a cyclist sandwich, pinning the poor man between their lips. Tough job, but someone has to do it. Why not me in my next go-around?
How do you get such a job? What do you put on your resume to land a job such as this?
“Career objective: professional smoocher. Have played dress-up since I was a little girl, know how to apply lipstick and keep it on longer than five minutes. Look great in a pair of heels.”
Hey! Maybe there’s still hope for me in this life. Maybe there’s some senior citizen bicycling competition that needs a mature woman to help hand out the awards. I’d have to wear sensible shoes instead of high heels, but I could still pucker up — just like those young Pearl Izumi girls.