Why We Live Here...

Last week was horrible. It was full of those things that make a mother's heart ache and a wife/money-manager cringe. I arose Saturday morning dreading the start of ski/snowboarding lessons. We had ski-fitting issues, too-small clothing issues, dad-sick issues and we-didn't-get-enough-sleep issues. Needless to say, I was at the end of my rope.


One hour later, things were vastly different. Twenty-five minutes to the slopes, easy fix of the equipment issues, shuffle the girls off to their lessons, grab my vanilla steamer and head (with my friend/therapist) to the deck overlooking the base of two lifts. With the sun shining on the glistening snow and its warmth surrounding me, I felt the week melt away -- therapy on the mountain. Sound like a commercial -- well it is, kind of -- come visit us in Montana!

I post a few photos to show that I wasn't the only one feeling the joy of the day. The skiers demonstrated their exuberance at the end of a run...Just before this photo was taken, she told me about a jump she took and more importantly "landed".

My snowboarder sandwiched between her "twin-friends" on their first run of the day...consequently, they were almost as enthusiastic on their last.

We all went home at the end of the day remembering just exactly why we live here.

The Hulk

Not the boy...the car. Yes, our latest addition (big, green and loud, hence the nickname). Many learning experiences have occurred as part of this recent step we have taken into parenthood:

1. Car shopping stinks! Yes, I know everyone else in the world knows this fact, however I have actually enjoyed it most every other time (I even testified of this once for a dealer's commercial). This time was different because we had specific requirements for age, condition and price (old, dented and cheap). And there was not a lot of room for bartering -- which makes for no fun at all! I hated only getting $200 off the asking price.

2. Adding our son to our insurance on our current vehicles was actually MORE expensive than purchasing and assigning him to his own OLDER vehicle with liability insurance only. It makes sense to us -- we don't want him driving our vehicles either, but we were surprised that the insurance company saw it that way. It certainly took away all of my ammunition for NOT getting another car!

3. Finally, should you have a teen that you would like motivated, GET THEM A CAR! I have gotten more work out of my son in the last few days, than in the last month. I don't even have to ask! I pray it continues....

Actually, pray for us -- our son is driving....YIKES!

Ferries are Real

As children get older, the "cute" things they say unfortunately get fewer and farther between (unless you count teenage sarcasm). However, this week the youngest daughter (age 7) came up with one of the best ever:

The other day my husband was relating to me the story of the Air Bus plane crash on the Hudson. Not yet having seen the story, he explained the pilot's miracle landing and the passengers' subsequent rescue by the fortuitous ferries.

At this point, the enthralled daughter (who we weren't even aware was listening) says, "They're real?"

And I, not seeing her misunderstanding of the homonym, say, "Yes, they are real."

Wide-eyed and joyful girl says, "Oh, I knew they were real, I just knew it!" And runs off to play with friends. Leaving her dad and I momentarily puzzled by her excitement.

As I watched the news stories that followed this amazing event, I thought how not only did these people believe in "ferries", but probably angels, too.

Christmas Vacation Revisited

Its official - I am married to Clark Griswold. I have over the years given into the exorbitant electric bills associated with our outdoor lighting during the month of December, however this year, we have actually breaker switches flipping off regularly each night. I finally had to convince him that we really don't have to put out ALL of our decorations every year. On my list of things to do is "call an electrician"...

The clincher to my husband's alter ego occurred last Saturday, when he eagerly proclaimed we were setting out to cut our own Christmas tree. We bundled up and loaded up and headed up the canyon with his iPod loaded with a Christmas playlist. We stopped one place, hiked for a half mile or so in knee-deep snow and then he determined "we were in the wrong place". We reluctantly loaded into the truck and went further up the canyon. We again hiked for what seemed like miles - the girls and I struggling to keep up with the lumberjacks. Every once in a while I'd hear "Come check out this one!" I'd come around the corner expecting to hear the Hallelujah chorus and see a shining beacon of light on the perfect tree.



We did eventually come home with a beautiful tree that fits into our living room (barely) and lots of memories. And truth be told, I've always had a little thing for Chevy Chase anyhow.

Sure-fire Shooter!

What's a blogspot if not a "brag-spot". She qualified to represent her school in the valley-wide Elks Free-Thow Competition. Today she competed against eight other girls in her age group, attempting 25 shots into a 10 foot basket from 15 feet away. She took FIRST! She goes to the state competition in January. You go girl!

Grandma Grace's Orange Rolls

In every family there is tradition. In our family, tradition frequently comes in the form of food. Mom's cinnamon roll Christmas trees and my caramel corn make Christmas, Christmas. However, orange rolls are on a different level -- orange rolls define events. In other words, it doesn't matter the event, if there were orange rolls there, it was special.

I decided recently that the tradition needed to continue. I made an experimental batch about a month ago using Grandma's six page handwritten instructions. Although they turned out okay, I learned later that I used too much flour. Second attempt -- the day before Thanksgiving. They turned out great, but not quite Grandma's, but the feeling that it was a special day persisted.

Now, the funny part. After hours of rising, rolling, knotting, baking and glazing the rolls. The teenage boy walks into the kitchen and says, "How come orange rolls always turn out in knots?" It took several minutes of different people trying to explain to him that the dough is tied in knots before baking. The kid needs to spend some time in the kitchen!

Passenger Seat

I've been called a control freak before and, while I'm not as bad as I used to be (hopefully), I don't disagree. I like to control my schedule, where my kids are, how my house runs, etc. I have recently encountered a new shift (love the pun)in the arena of control.

I have become the passenger in a car driven by my teenage son.

My knuckles go white and someday I might put my right foot through the floor of the car. I say things like "slow, slow, SLOW!!!" and "you don't have to swing right to turn left". We leave early for everywhere he drives, because we either drive under the speed limit the whole way or spend ten minutes parking (not even parallel).

He never drives with his younger sisters in the car. Not because I don't trust him, but because they scream at everything he does and freak him out. Last summer was the last time we did that -- they screamed as he did a three-point turn on a dirt road and backed us into a ditch. He swore he was never driving again after that (when he realized that meant mom and dad driving him on dates, he reconsidered).

He's eligible to test for his license in January. At that point, I guess I start worrying about who has replaced me in the passenger seat.