Tom put the letter to Santa in no time, using his own resources, i.e. some words are written phonetically -- e.g. "won wil" means "one wheel".

Tom was eager to see Lisa's presents, too.

This year, given all the sad events in our family, Christmas was very subdued. Not that I would have ever gone overboard with Christmas preparations, but now I really coped with only the minimum. In the end I somehow left out getting the kids to write to Santa in advance -- I reserved it for a Christmas party at the neighbors, where Santa usually appears and kids have a chance to write and give him their letters right away, but on that day Tom went down with a fever, so we had gone nowhere. Yet Tommy has an elephant's memory and on the twenty-third he despaired that Santa cannot really know what he wishes to get; he started writing his letter immediately. He was done in no time, including a technical description of the scooter. It was very important for him that Santa would not mix it up, and bring him a scooter with only two wheels and a brake, and not the one with three wheels, for babies.

I wanted to put the letter on a window sill, but Tom, who's very accurately informed by his school friends, knows that Santa arrives through the fireplace, and placed the letter on the mantelpiece. It was gone by the next morning, which was positive, but Tom wondered now that he had drawn the scooter, but he did not SPECIFY it was a scooter. (If you can't wait any longer, I can disclose to you now that Santa had not mixed anything up and brought the right scooter.)

Santa had arrived and brought presents.

We used to skip Mosaic Canyon until this year, which it certainly does not deserve.

Overall, Tommy perceived this Christmas very intensely. Already in the fall we talked with him about trains -- that he owns a lot of wooden trains (got two more pieces on birthday) and that he should wish for something different. Tom agreed to it as a reasonable plan, but then he was worried that he likes to DRAW trains, and Santa could infer from all those pictures that they're meant for him, so Tom started labeling them DONT GIVE ME TRAINS (yes, one must write Santa in English, so that he can understand). Then Tom wondered why should Santa visit his teacher's place on twenty-fifth in the morning, while he comes to us on the evening of twenty-fourth, but we explained to him that Santa has to deliver presents on a schedule and we would wait for him in the evening, while in other families they go to bed and don't wait, and unpack the presents in the morning instead.

Lisa was getting ready for Christmas through mostly asking every day, if it is December already, and could not understand why Christmas is not here yet, for it is December already. Not even an Advent calendar did not improve her perception of temporal relationships.

In the week before the official holidays, the kids' school was already shut. Tom gathered some little virosis and spent the Sunday with a fever. On this account, I declared a lazy day on Monday and sat my children in front of the TV, which I combined with baking of Christmas cookies and decorating a gingerbread house. An old Czech movie Ať žijí duchové (Long Live the Ghosts) became the hit of the season. We own a lot of Czech fairy-tales, but mostly about princesses, and Tom is bored. The Ghosts is a story about children, and Tom can manage that; it features Leontine in a pretty dress, and Lisa likes that.

Tom and Lisa in the canyon.

A stone curtain at Mosaic Canyon

Hippo took Vendulka early morning to the airport on Christmas Eve, bought fish for dinner, and then we waited for Santa. After dinner Tommy insisted to spread reindeer food around our front yard, which he had brought from school, to lure them to our house. I was a bit worried what I might find in the magical baggie, but it contained oatmeal and that was OK. In the end it was a very good idea, for it gave us an excuse to dress the kids up in jackets and push them out of the house. We continued around the block, and they were to look out for Santa. Lisa did not want to take chances -- she ran ahead, calling "Santa, Santa, where are you?" (see above, Santa speaks English only). We had to keep her down and told her not to shout so loud, of course to not scare the reindeer. Then Tom suddenly said that Santa has certainly come to our house already and we must go back. His hundred percent conviction about the delivery fascinated me, but he was right; there were presents under the tree.

Unpacking went just like one would expect. We were rather surprised that Tom unwrapped the scooter, nodded his head, noted that it was the right one, and for the rest of the evening played with his other presents, each of them a true surprise. The scooter was expected, and after all who'd ride it in the dark. He lasted longest with a simple Transformer -- putting it together and taking it apart, getting upset when it did not fit, but he spent hours with it. Stuffed snakes, similar to those owned by Pavlíček's kids, were another big hit.

On the twenty-fifth, Tommy came to me in the morning and told me that the book he got was called The Fat Cat Who Sat on the Mat. I asked him how he knew; he said it's written there. Within the next half hour, Tom read the whole book to me. In the afternoon he found a book of Czech nursery rhymes and tried to read, but encountered difficult words (e.g. maverick), so I took it away and issued him a syllabary instead, where he can build up his reading gradually.

A natural slide (incredibly slick, you could not walk on it).

The upper part of the canyon is less polished, but the more colorful.

On the twenty-sixth of December we tossed our bags in our bus, booked three night in a room in Ridgecrest, and drove out to a shorter Christmas trip. A short distance past Paso Robles the bus began to signal that we had a flat. A closer check revealed a screw embedded in our left front tire, but it apparently also served like a cork, for loss of air was minimal. On a truck stop at highway 5 we found a repair shop -- but we were not the only ones incredibly grateful that Gutierrez was open 24/7 -- there was quite a crowd there. Mostly long distance big rigs from the north-south interstate stop three. We had some fun watching the mechanic who's used to big wheels, how he sometimes disproportionately handled our mini-wheel. Well, what's important, our bus got fixed despite advanced afternoon hour and a holiday on top of that, and we paid our fifteen dollars happily.

However, we also picked up some delay, and it caused us to reach Tehachapi after dark. On the other hand, we finally fit in the opening hours of the local Vietnamese restaurant, and we gladly docked there for a bit of soup. At Blue Ginger, they put ginger even in their pho; it took us a moment to identify the strange flavor, but it was delicious.

Tom wished to visit sand dunes.

We arrived to Ridgecrest sometimes after eight, but we let ourselves lure into a hot whirlpool. Kids were ecstatic that something's happening after a whole day in the car, and we were hoping that they would fall asleep easier. Best Western in Ridgecrest annoyed us again with it miniature rooms, for we had forgotten somehow how cramped we felt in the same place two years ago. Otherwise it's a rather nice and clean motel, and well sound-proof, so you don't know what TV channel your neighbors are watching, whether they snore or have sex or not, which I find a great positive (not so much my Hippo, who can sleep anytime and anywhere -- I need my quiet). We discovered in the morning that the breakfast included in price offered fresh waffles and toasts, and we took advantage of it on all tree days, although it later got a bit repetitive.

A sandbox like this can't be had at any playground.

Lisa scrambling up the sand dune.

For this year in Death Valley, we picked Mosaic Canyon. Although (or perhaps because) it's located right near the west entrance to the park, and is therefor quite frequented, we passed it by for many years. Our kids showed off right at the trail head parking lot -- Tom and Lisa began to dig in the dry creek bed rocks with an enthusiasm, as if they had been locked up in a dark pit for at least a week. Gradually we convinced them to a hike in the canyon. They remained interested -- in miraculously carved rocks, sand and pebbles at the bottom of the (at this time) dry bed; in the opportunities to climb and discover. All this fascinated our juniors. On our way back they found out that water had polished a particular boulder to such a perfection one could slide on it; they ended up quite dusty and happy.

Back at the car we had a picnic. Offspring paid food only cursory attention, and soon began to dig in the dirt again. We stuffed them back in the car with a promise of sand dunes. Tommy remembered the dunes from a trip of two years ago, and so we could grant him one big wish. Although being traditionally a hot spot, the dunes were rather cold this year because of a strong wind, but our juniors could not be dissuaded. We were glad that they are happy with our trips and simple pleasures of tossing stones or sliding down a sand slope; they don't need Disneylands and Playstations to find joy.

Evening sun in the sand dunes.

After finally having spent sufficiently long time outdoors, on our getting near Ridgecrest again we rang Pavlíček's, who came from San Diego and got a room next to ours; we had a dinner together. We tried some Chinese place, but the service was slow (which is quite a crisis with four little children), and after they lulled us with their excellent soups, the rest of the food was mediocre or worse. We planned to spend the next day together, but Lisa began to whine in the evening about an achy ear. I hoped it was just a result of rapid elevation changes from our trip to the Death Valley and back, but Lisa kept tossing and turning all night, waking up, whined and overall did not look too well.

A change of scenery -- instead of a desert, a snow-covered Whitney Portal Road.

A part of our sand dune expedition: left to right Lisa, Tom, Verunka, Adam, Petra and Hippo.

We had slightly hoped that breakfast in the morning would improve our situation, but no. Thus we were bound to send Pavlíček's to the beautiful Death Valley and arrange an appointment with them in the dunes; we would either arrive in full force, or reduced (to Hippo and Tom), or not at all. Then we headed for the emergency room. Tom was taking the threat of early return home very badly, but Lisa was apparently worse with every minute. ER ran their cases based on urgency, and when I spent with my fading Lisa more than an hour in a waiting room, while she alternatively slept and whined, I began to inquire when we might get our turn? I thought that looking in a child's ear and prescribe necessary antibiotics could be, with good will, accomplished in some three minutes.

Eventually they called us in, and I saw the rush, with patients in rooms or just separated by curtains; the doctor was arranging a helicopter transport for a man with a heart attack and a nurse begged him to have a quick look at Lisa. She could think of nothing better than showing one of her shy scenes, but I put an end to it -- not that they smuggled us among heart attacks and accidents, the last I could use was a tantrum. She must have noticed I was serious, for soon she agreed to let the doctor look in her achy ear. When he wanted to see the other, she snapped that there was nothing to see, but still submitted to the check, while the doctor laughed that she was right and her other ear was OK. She got antibiotics and, because her fever ran up, they offered us Tylenol. I declined, for I had my own in the car, as soon as we could get out.

Lisa in a cave at Alabama Hills

Snowball fight.

The family council decided to drive to the Death Valley and release Tommy onto the sand dunes with Pavlíček's kids. We reckoned that it made no difference whether Lisa sat at our hotel room and watch TV, or sat in our car and watch a DVD. In the latter case we could select what she was watching and were not at the mercy of commercials. Yet Lisa, having swallowed Tylenol, went along to the dunes. I carried her in spots, but her situation was improving just as fast as it had deteriorated earlier.

In the evening we found a Japanese restaurant with teppan - heated metal tables, where they cook and fry food right in front of you. The cooks make it a funny show, they toss eggs, chop ingredients, do a little magic with spices, and all the kids were fascinated just by watching how fried rice is being made. The food was great, and the restaurant has earned a big plus with us.

On the following day we drove out in force to Lone Pine. It is about the same distance from Ridgecrest as Death Valley, but we were hoping for somewhat different attractions. Having reached the town, we used a westward turn-off along Whitney Portal Road to a spot where the pavement disappeared under snow, where we got stuck on ice with the bus (which has only front wheel drive and skids and slides), and considered it parked. The kids ran for the snow. Unlike the two previous days in Death Valley that were clouded, here at the foothills of Sierra Nevada it was bright and sunny. A deep blue sky, crystal clear air, slight frost, warm sunshine -- simply fun. On the path to a small clearing we broke into a long lasting snowball fight. The snow was frozen, balls did not stick together, but nobody cared. Only hunger chased us downhill again to the (somewhat) warmer and snow-free Alabama Hills.

Cuckoos.

Just a few yards lower, at Alabama Hills, there was no sign of snow.

We unpacked our picnic, but sleepy Verunka fussed and Tom could not finish his food for he felt compelled to climb on rocks. Last time we came here he stayed back in the car with strep throat, but this time he enjoyed it thoroughly. I forced the kids to switch from snow to hiking boots to prevent accidents, but then I let them to their devices. They are both quite skilled and stable on rocks, and I no longer worry. Petra tried to put Verunka to sleep in their car, and the rest of us went hiking among the rock towers.

We made a loop around the nearest group and I convinced Tom to try climbing with a rope. I tried to lure Pavlíček's as well, but all they could think of was getting back to Ridgecrest, saying that their children must sleep after lunch. I have to say that I'm glad that our kids no longer nap in the afternoon -- especially now in winter when the day is short and you wake up from the afternoon nap into darkness.

So we said good-bye and I began to set up the route I picked last time. A slope that I find awfully simple and which ended in a ring next to the Hippo Route. I don't know what I was thinking. After fifteen years of climbing I should know that a slope looks different when one is crawling on the upper end of the rope. I could have told myself a thousand times that this rock holds just on friction alone, still I was pretty afraid. Then I tried to break Hippo into trying it top-rope, but he just cursed and insisted it was no terrain for hippos. I switched the rope to the next right and set up Tom for Hippo Route. He climbed to a more difficult spot, where he could not reach the next hold and started to worry, and so we had to lower him down. Hippo ran it up, collected all quick draws and agreed in the end that we should try promising routes around the corner. According to the guide they were supposed to range 5.7 - 5.8, which seemed appropriate.

Little cacti.

Tom tried to climb.

Tom and Lisa went along, and I must compliment them, for they managed to behave and play at the foot of the rocks. They did not bother us and did not risk by trying anything too dangerous, and Hippo and I could climb two more routes. Then it started to get colder, we stopped climbing and endeavored to explore other parts of Alabama Hills in the remaining hour before sunset. We found a pretty rock cluster that we hiked around -- we found a boulder in the shape of a hippo, various shallow caves and bowls, and we all had quite fun. Then the sun vanished behind the mountains and frost hit us. Air temperature in the desert is not as important (it did not get above 40 for the whole day), but it matter if the sun is shining and if wind is blowing. If you're lit (and it shines here, at the latitude equal that of Northern Africa), you won't notice the cold. In the moment the sun is covered, you freeze, although the actual temperature drop may not be so dramatic.

We resolved to check out Pizza Factory, which had been closed on Thanksgiving. A pair of senior citizens occupied a table next to ours, and they were enchanted by our juniors; so it came to a lively conversation. The man could whistle masterfully and fooled Lisa in to believing that there was a bird nest hidden somewhere in the restaurant and that she spotted a bird. Having eaten dinner, we drove to Tehachapi and got a room at our favorite motel there. We were surprised how large the room seemed compared to the one in Ridgecrest. It felt like a real luxury. Alas, it was cold and rainy in Tehachapi, and that was the less pleasant change from our sunny day in Lone Pine.

This trip practically concluded our Christmas holiday; we got home on the following day, turned to washing heaps of dirty laundry. On New Years' Eve the kids and I took Hippo to the airport. He flew to Czech Republic for his mother's funeral and other sad affairs. I was looking at a week without a husband, with children who are not used to their parents being gone.

If you had the impression this journal has too few pictures, you can find some more on our page in the gallery.