Before start.

Jack's birthday came right after Thanksgiving. The kids had planned it among themselves for long time, and Jack had told Tom and Lisa what all was being prepared, and it was clear that we simply HAD to attend this party, even if this were the end of the world. Nejedlys go skate this year, hence the party took place in an ice skating rink. I have to say that the rink in Belmont is much better than our nearest one in Cupertino. Just the fact that it is located above ground, with actual daylight, is a great plus. And someone had the ingenious idea that the entrance hall and changing lounge would be separated from the ice and HEATED. Besides being warm, the hall is equipped with simple tables and benches and a plexiglass to the actual rink — therefore, if a chaperone does not wish to skate, he or she can quietly sip some coffee and read a book and be warm (did I mention the hall was HEATED?).

Of course I'm no wimp and I went to skate. This had in the end proved to be quite necessary — unlike all the Czech kids, pretty much all of Jack's schoolmates were standing on their skates for the first time and someone had to get them moving. I have to brag; toward the end of the session, the two clumsiest boys circled the rink on their own. And Tom said that I'm really a great skating instructor. Lisa spent most of her time on ice with Jack, she even convinced him to dance, and so they performed the same timeless frozen-pond creations I recall from the times of my youth.

The slopes were rather chaotic.

Besides good times and some cake, we also acquired a bicycle at the party. We borrowed an 18 inch one for Lisa from the Nejedlys. She has grown out of her 16 inch bike, and it's been tough for her to keep up the pace with us; thus we hope that slightly larger wheels would mean better gear ratio and speeding up of our family bike rides. And it would seem that we were right — it really makes a difference. It's great — besides the trail in downtown San Jose we started to use a bike route to YMCA. We follow the creek and ride along percolation ponds, then through a residential subdivision — at the YMCA, Hippo and I head for the treadmill gym, and the kids to the day care playroom, which they love. Playing for a while makes them more amenable to riding three miles back, not even noticing they covered a substantial stretch. And we can skip trotting on machines, having warmed up nicely outdoors.

As the skiing season slowly approached, and the beginning of our lease at Kirkwood with it, I began to look for supplies for the "cottage". Already last year we were able to leave our skis and gear at Kirkwood; this year we planned to take a real mattress there instead of camping mats, an overall improvement of our stays. I keep hoping that once we place things there like basic food, towels, toothbrushes, bedding, spare clothing, pajamas and slippers, it may halve my hassle with packing for the weekends. In real world it means, however, that "one" must keep buying all kind of things. Such as the slippers. We walk barefoot at home, or wearing socks; fortunately now before Christmas the stores are full of slippers (apparently they remain an enduring popular present). So I purchased slippers and let the kids try them out. Both rejoiced — and since then, to my surprise, wear slippers at home. Thus I was bound to buy them another couple of pairs for the mountains.

Lisa is gathering courage.

Lisa has been especially fond of her slippers — hers are brightly pink, adorned with no less bright flowers. She has been consistently wearing them, even putting them in a shoe case in the garage (unlike the other shoes that she simply kicks off her feet there). And so on one morning when she was supposed to be ready in the car for her trip to the school and could not find her backpack, I pushed her without the backpack, saying that RIGHT NOW was the time to go to school and what she had not prepared, she would not have (honestly — all she ever carries in her backpack is food, and she held that in her hands). Hippo had left with the kids to school, and only when Lisa got out, she noticed she was wearing her slippers. And since we are a king Herod family, she was told to proceed to her classroom in what she wore. I keep periodically threatening my children that they'd be sent to the classes in their pajamas — when I tell them at seven thirty that they must get dressed, and they continue jumping on their beds at five to eight in their pajamas with teeth still unbrushed, I am ready for a stroke. I was not expecting Lisa to punish herself thus.

I had planned that I only take a shower and take some shoes for Lisa on my way (to Tony's with our uncooperative bus) — after all, she goes out of the classroom and it would be a pity to ruin her new slippers. In that moment, the school administrator called to tell me that Lisa has been crying in her office that she has no shoes. Hippo assured the admin that we knew about it and that we were dealing with the situation, and that Lisa is not being prevented by her slippers from participation in her class. Still our blonde has elicited enough compassion and subsequently admiration of her beautiful pink slippers from the whole administrative staff of the school. Whether she learned a lesson, we shall see.

Lisa on the move.

I had some really different worries at the moment. One day earlier, all the warning lights in my bus lit up in an avalanche sequence like on a fancy Christmas tree, and I did not know, what to do next. I came to a conclusion that we had most likely "ripped something off" on our way to Saline Valley, but first it was necessary to have Tony narrow the diagnose. A consolation was that the bus continued to drive without emitting strange sounds, nor would it behave strangely — only those dashboard warning lights stayed on. This had crossed my plans considerably; we wanted to load and haul all our gear to Kirkwood on the weekend.

At last Tony declared that the fault was with the catalytic converter, but the bus could keep driving. There was no snow yet this year, and artificial snow cannon were tending to the slopes, but they could not keep up with the melting. On the other hand, you did not have to worry about some breakdown in preparedness of the road maintenance, and the mountains remained ACCESSIBLE even with a minivan. Hippo had to work on this weekend, and so I just took the kids along for the ride. And Bára, and her and Martin's skis. We drove out on Saturday afternoon, easy going, just in time to stoke the fireplace and cook dinner — and carry and stove all the stuff.

I had my doubts about skiing on Sunday. Vendula had scared me with the top of the run being so icy and that some children could no cope with it and their parents had to drag them down somehow. Fortunately this weekend it was a bit better. There were only a few people out and even the only operational lift did not develop a queue. Two runs were sprayed, and people spread out. Only Lisa, when seeing the top, steep section of the blue (medium difficulty) slop said that it was too hard and that she was afraid. Tom sped off with Vendulka and Bára, and I was left to convincing our little donkey to give it a try. At first Lisa yelled with fright in the steeper sections, and with joy in the milder ones — but she would not stop making sounds. Still — she made it. Her mother did not yell, but the emotions were similar — during the first few runs I had the impression that I had completely forgotten to ski. Then my body recovered somehow and began to function.

Tom skiing.

They had announced on the resort website that they would close the runs for an hour in the afternoon, but when I asked some employees about the closure, they said they would not be closing that day. So I ordered a private break for lunch — I wanted to take the kids to the cottage and feed them, to make them rest for a while and not get too sore on the first day of skiing. I don't know about the kids, but I resolutely dozed off in the bedroom after lunch.

By two o'clock we took back to the slopes. Tom wanted to ski with poles, but perhaps it was too soon. In this relatively difficult terrain (ice, rocks) he had enough to do with himself, more so with poles. After three runs I confiscated them, placed them near a lift, and he continued without. Lisa went with the girls (Tom had accompanied them in the morning). I would like to use this opportunity to thank Bára and Vendula — they really kept on dragging one or the other child along all this time, which gave me room to handle the other one without problems. Tom started to fade around three thirty. When he fell several times in a row and asked to be left sitting in the snow, because he needed to rest, I ordered retreat. Girls (including Lisa) managed to squeeze in another run, but then Lisa totally faded, and we soon all gathered in the cottage.

All that was left to do was feed them all, pack the few things we were taking back home — and by five we were headed home. We stopped for a traditional dinner at Giant Burger, because it's fast, but even so the kids got to their beds by nine, while being totally rubbery. I don't blame them: I ended up in my bed a few minutes later, more rubbery by the extra driven 190 miles. But it was a greatly successful trip — juniors had enjoyed their skiing, nobody got hurt. And I discovered that I have been probably missing the Czech institution of a country cottage, where you can escape from the city, make fire with real wood — and spend all day running outdoors.