This year, besides classic shapes, our Christmas tree features a sea otter. |
The tree went into a bucket in the back yard and we delved into making Vizovice (dough) decorations. Lisa was working with me on classic shapes, while Tom had decided to sculpt a sea otter. He showed admirable patience, and thus indeed one of our decorations is very non-traditional this year.
Morning round of a monopoly game. |
On the last weekend before the holidays, we executed a blitz action, "Fridge." We had bought our house almost thirteen years earlier including a refrigerator, which had lately been evoking the acoustics of a fighter jet taking off, and besides that, had been gradually falling apart. Hippo had declared that a fridge was an important cultural object — which I can only confirm; he routinely gazes into it, and so now he can gaze into a new one. I had no idea that a purchase of a new refrigerator would also mean cleaning out the back yard — neither the old nor the new fridge would fit through the kitchen door, and the only passage leads through the patio door into our back yard and through the gap around the house out. Normally, garbage bins park in the gap, and our winterized patio furniture takes up space at our patio door, and thus we had to move them all.
On top of Kirkwood. |
On Saturday, we slid into our car — literally so in mine and Tom's case, for my cross country skis were tugged along the right side doors — and we headed for the mountains shortly before eight. At exactly eleven o'clock, we entered the door at Giant Burger, whose staff had just opened. The dudes did not look too awake, but no one balked at my order of cheeseburger without the bun. I wondered how I was going to eat the burger; it's practically kiosk vending, and you get your sandwich wrapped in paper — eventually I had found a knife in my purse. Unnecessarily, it turned out, for the chap at the grill handily packed meat layered with mayo, cheese and veggies, inside a lettuce leaf. As far a table manners and degree of mess goes, I did not fare any worse than the rest of our family with their buns.
Alas, the ice sheet pushed us to lower elevations and easier slopes. |
Because of a snafu with an electronic lock (actually, THREE different locks, so it wasn't clear, which one of them we were supposed to use), I failed to dodge the unpacking and carrying of stuff upstairs. Important thing was, we were finally inside, in the comfort and warmth of the apartment. We picked our bedrooms, cooked dinner, and holidays could begin.
A dose of cross-country before going to the mountain. |
Having learned my lesson, on Monday morning I set out to the cross-country meadow before the majority of holidaymakers even rolled out of their beds. I reckoned that kids, equipped with breakfast, could manage to lounge in their pajamas, and we would still get to gear up for regular skiing in good time. And I was right. My other plan, i.e., that we would start actually skiing before other skiers and snowboarders transform groomed slopes into irregular heaps of heavy snow, was considerably thwarted by weather. It had apparently been freezing at night, and when we merrily reached our favorite Sentinel, which was supposed to be groomed, we had found ourselves on the edge of an ice sheet, flat as a mirror, yet very tilted. Somehow we scraped it down to a spot where the slope makes a right turn. Straight down goes a ravine, in this case naturally impassable. We were waiting for the rest of our group, when a snowboarder had lost his control in the middle of the slope. He rushed down with horror in his eyes; we managed to make room for him in time, and watched him stop right at the end of the clearing, missing a fall into the ravine, his eyes bulging. That was when we discontinued our attempts to ski harder terrains — the risk of losing a child in one of the ravines, either by falling or being dragged in by someone else, did not seem negligible to us anymore. And so we ground the medium lifts, around and around, till our heads spun. When the children began mumbling about playing outside after lunch again, we did not object — it really did not make much sense to urge them into athletics in these conditions.
We tried to convince the kids that Christmas had already happened. |
Alex was willing, but it did not work out, as he appeared not to know how to ski at all. I had a very hard time getting him up on the lift, off the lift, and down the slope; then I had to have a talk with his mom, recommending a ski class. I would have never thought that somebody who lives and works in the mountains permanently, could not ski, although I understand that while both parents work throughout the day, they can't spend the time on the slopes. I felt sorry for the boy; fortunately, skiing mishap did not damage his further friendship with Lisa.
On Tuesday, Kovars stopped by for a chat, and later that evening, Hippo arrived. We were bound to repeat our Saturday action backwards on Wednesday — i.e. first pack all our stuff, then put on our skis and go to the slopes for a while, and then depart back home. We had thought we would pack some lunch and have a break on Backside lounge chairs, but already during our first trip up, a crazy wind was blowing snow into our faces, and we soon gave up. Skiing in wind and snowstorm is nothing pleasant, and we were afraid that some worse weather may rush in, cutting our escape route off, depriving us of our home, Christmas tree and presents.
There were presents under the tree as well. |
We managed to make potato salad, we all had a shower, unpacked, even grilled our fish in the end, and took the obligatory Santa-spotting walk around the block. Upon our return, we tried to tell the children that Santa Claus had been to our home before, having delivered the fridge, and so we would take a family snapshot in front of the new appliance instead with the tree, and Christmas was over. I don't think they believed us, as they look rather merry even on the fridge picture. Naturally, there were presents under the tree, and everybody found happiness.
It was our early plan to drive out on a trip right after Christmas, with New Year's Eve finding us in the mountains again. Yet the forecast remained miserable, and we felt tired from all the skiing and driving, and so we stayed at home till Monday, when the right road-tripping spirit finally returned to us.