In My Defense

I just need to point out that the view of my faceprint, with all the things visible behind it, was NOT the view I had when I walked into the glass. Rather, I was looking through the (freakishly clear) window (and, as it turns out, through another window beyond), trying to see my children on skis.

I did not see my children on skis through the window.

And, to answer Tara's question, I DID have my camera with me, and after I'd run to the bathroom to inspect the damage, procured ice and a paper towel to hold against my lip, and gotten my wits about me a bit, I thought to take the photo. Lucky for me, though they have VERY clean glass at the Sol Vista Base Lodge, they do not clean it every fifteen or twenty minutes. (Or maybe not so lucky, depending on your appreciation of the comic impact of my, er, impact.)

I finally got some camera cords from the store today so I could download photos of my children actually skiing. I'm not sure these qualify, but there are photos of two of them on skis, and the third giving her instructor trouble, I'm sure:

A Little Ski "Vacation"

Long-time readers of this blog (both of you) will remember that I have a firmly held belief that trips out of town with small children cannot rightly be considered vacations. You might think that, since the children are growing older, this would cease to be true.

I might think that, too.

In fact, our trip this weekend up to Winter Park went very, very well. The kids took ski lessons at Sol Vista, and Jon skied all day. I stayed at the warm condo, reading and napping-- really a perfect vacation. Ski lessons went relatively well-- after a half-morning of refusing to cooperate (out of fear of not being good enough, I'm sure), Madeline got with the program and mastered skiing quite well. Baxter, though more prone to speed than excellent balance, did well, too. Sophie spent a lot of energy flopping down in the snow and screaming that she needed help, but enjoyed herself anyway and can demonstrate the proper technique for stopping, turning, and "going straight."

Why, then, was this only a "vacation" and not a full-fledged vacation? Because of this:




That's a split lip you're looking at, there. And a little close-up, for detail.

Wondering how the only member of my family who didn't ski ended up with an injury? To address that burning question, I give you this photo of my faceprint, on a pane of glass at the base lodge:



I think I even left a little saliva on there when I bounced off the glass. As Jon observed, if they ever launch CSI:Granby, I can be their first case.

The lip's still a little fat, and drinking my beloved Diet Pepsi from bottles is still challenging, but I'm healing up okay (not to mention well-rested). Sophie didn't end up at the ER, and the kids are ready to go skiing again next weekend, so I'd say, all in all, it was a roaring success!

Finally, some photos.

I used my new Fuji Finepix that I won at an auction a couple of weeks ago... I still know where the cords are for that one.

So, errand run and kids tucked in last night, I assembled the, er, errand, and then remembered I wanted to boil eggs.

Now, most of you will have a hard time believing this, but I boil eggs so infrequently that I have to look up instructions every time I do it. So I clicked on the National Egg Board's sponsored link, printed out the instructions, and set to work. Now, according to my friend RLee, these same instructions are the ones used by Martha Stewart. They have to work, right?

Not so much. If only I'd read RLee's blog first.

This morning the kids wanted hard-boiled eggs for breakfast; since they were as yet un-dyed, I peeled one-- and it came apart in my hands, white bonded to shell, yolk squishy. I tried the other batch and found a few that I could painstakingly peel for them to eat, but it was not good.

I put them all back in to cook a bit longer, with visions of egg salad dancing in my head.

So there, Martha.

Fabulous Egg Hunt Photos...

...stuck on my camera because I can't find the #@&* cords to download them. I'm sure there here somewhere, probably in the box the camera (recently) came in. However, I can locate neither cords nor box.

Meh.

And, if we're being honest here, the photos weren't really that fabulous. But they were FUN. We did, indeed, get to have the egg hunt outside. A little chilly, yes, but gloriously sunny and MUCH more fun than "hunting" in a racquetball court (read: trampling other children while attempting not to get trampled yourself), which is what has usually been the case.

Sophie opted out of the "ages 5-7" hunt in a yard in favor of the "ages 3-4 plus Sophie" run-and-grab on a tennis court. She got a coveted stuffed animal (after I helped position her right in front of it before they yelled, "GO!"), but gave the bunny to Baxter after he helped her open one of her larger plastic eggs to find a stuffed carrot with a bunny in its kangaroo-like pocket.

I did Baxter a disservice because I forgot to tell him to go to the opposite end of the hunting area and work backwards-- he got some eggs, but not as many as Madeline, because watching Baxter reminded me to tell Madeline to employ the run-past-all-the-others-picking-up-the-first-eggs-they-see strategy. Next year I'll coach them all-- I imagine Sophie will have to suck it up and "hunt" with the big kids next year. (Note to self: do not show up until about 10:45. The chaos pre-egg-hunt is not worth it.)

Later I prevailed upon my mother-in-law to come over to "watch a movie" with the kids while I ran an errand I had forgotten to do. This was critical, since as I drove away from work Friday, I realized I had not run said errand yet, and that I was not going to be kid-free for the rest of the weekend. Seeing as how this was an errand best run alone (ahem), Susan was kind enough to show up in time for me to dash to the store. Phew.

Have a happy Easter, everyone. You Coloradans stay warm! (That's right-- snow. On Easter. AGAIN.)

Still no skunk

...which is a good thing, because Jon is out of town again. This time it's for fun-- he's in Reno playing poker. Go, Jon!

The kids and I are going to enjoy a relaxing weekend-- at least, I hope we are. MY plan is to sleep in tomorrow morning. I'm not entirely sure they're on board with that, though-- we'll see! There's an egg hunt at our gym that we've gone to three or four times; each time it's been inside because the weather has been miserable. Maybe tomorrow we'll actually get to do it outside!

That's about it-- that's as far ahead as I'm planning. Anyone else have any brilliant plans?

Customer "Service"

I just got off the phone with a woman from my former credit-card processing company. I'll spare you all the details, but I'll just tell you one thing she said. We were discussing the need to track down the call I made to cancel my service several months ago (because otherwise it's "our word against yours"), and I said I had not made note of the date of the call.

She said, "Well, if it was me, I think I'd take notes about calls like this. Documentation is very important in this day and age."

Did you just SAY that, lady?

I told her that, regardless of the outcome of the dispute, that she should re-think her strategy of telling people what she would have done in their place, particularly when it's done and can't be changed.

Oh, my word.

Deep Thoughts & A Carnival (& no photos)

Today at lunch, just Madeline & me, she began musing on the meaning of "art." She decided it was anything that anyone created. When I suggested that we all create things that really can't be considered art (think bodily functions, which is hilarious when you're eight and your mom says it), she thought maybe if it was decorative and someone created it, it was art. As I was sharing my opinion (which, it must be said, probably started with, "I don't really think so, because...") she said, "It doesn't matter what you think, Mom! I can think what I want!"

Why yes, my love, you can. And I am very, very glad that you do.

In other news, it was Mitzvah Day today. At our synagogue we have quarterly days that are devoted to creating/providing something for people in need. Today, because we were celebrating the joyous holiday of Purim, we made Mishloach Manot baskets for shut-ins and others in need of cheer. Madeline made a puppet to go in hers, and Baxter chose his grandparents as recipients of his. Sweet kids.

Then we had a carnival. There were bouncy houses and games. (Before the carnival, when the Rabbi said there would be games, Sophie's eyes lit up, she turned to her dad and said "Useless junk?!?" When he nodded, she said "Yesssss!") Baxter showed particular skill at the "Fat Cats" game, which involved knocking down little fuzzy cat things with a beanbag. He amassed enough prize tickets (20) to get a stuffed animal, which sent Sophie into a tizzy, as she had only aquired one prize ticket thus far. (This was primarily because she would go in the three-ticket bouncy house and, when her time was up, surrender three more tickets and go back in. Repeatedly. And bouncy houses do not "pay" prize tickets. Also, she's still pretty terrible at throwing or hitting or the like.)

Baxter immediately sprang into action and, using Sophie's remaining game tickets, began trying to win her 19 more tickets. So sweet. Ultimately we had to enlist Jon to knock down some cans in service of the quest, but she got 20 tickets and received her useless junk. By this time Madeline had also earned 20 tickets and redeemed them for her own animal. Yay. Three more stuffed animals-- how would we have survived without them?

And with that, I'm off to make hamentaschen dough for Sophie's preschool party.

The Big News...

...Madeline has glasses!

Now, mind you, this photo makes me realize that I didn't even post about her getting braces a few months ago. (Tsk, tsk.) But she's more excited about the glasses because

1. they don't hurt
   and
2. she can SEE!

As anyone who wears corrective lenses knows, it's a great thing to be able to see again. I'm not sure she remembered what it was like to see very clearly, and she's loving it. Now the struggle, of course, is to make sure she doesn't lose them, and that she wears them when she should. I got mine when I was nine (sorry for the inadvertent rhyme) and I wore them all the time. (Damn! I did it again!) I didn't want to lose them but, more importantly, I didn't want to miss SEEING anything. Truly a revelation.

There's another pair, too, purple and rectangular. I'm partial to the red ones, myself. This was her favorite of the photos I took to show off her new look.

No skunk is good skunk...

No more overwhelming stench. Yet. It's only a matter of time.

Apparently there is a product, available at your friendly local hardware store, that repels skunks and makes them decide that yours is not a safe neighborhood to inhabit. As Sophie puts it plainly, "coyote pee."

We have not procured this wild-animal-waste-product yet, but are hopeful it will help. We must try it SOON, as Jon is going out of town Tuesday and if Elwood gets skunked while Jon is gone, he will not be coming inside until Jon comes back to tomato-bath him. Seriously-- I just cannot take it.

Madeline has big news, but I have not gotten the requisite photos so will share later...

Skunks

Or, rather, skunk. (I hope.)

Elwood was skunked twice (within a week), last fall. Since then we've smelled skunk plenty, and we perform a crazy recycle-bin-banging routine (often accompanied by barking and weird yelps) before letting him out after dark. This frightens Elwood so much that he usually doesn't want to go out after all.

So it's been getting worse again. Last night I woke up to the distinctive eau de skunk-- in our bedroom. Elwood had been safely inside for hours, sleeping on his new damask dog bed, so it must have come from outside. Elwood began agitating to go out, and I roused myself from my stupor long enough to say to Jon, as he got up to let Elwood out: "I smell skunk!" This was necessary because Jon does not always smell things as soon as I do. He had, however, detected that horrible odor, so went down to do the recycle-bin-banging thing and let E out.

They didn't come back. I dozed a little, but soon became aware that

1. They were not back upstairs yet
2. The skunk smell had worsened

I called downstairs to Jon to find out where he was; Elwood was back inside, unskunked, and Jon was doing some work stuff because he couldn't sleep.

I couldn't sleep, either, because of the stench, so I grabbed my pillows (yes, I use two) and stomped downstairs, where the smell was not so bad. I laid on the couch for a while, until my back started to hurt. When I sat up, I smelled it again, and strong. Aiggghhhh!

Long story short (too late, right?), it appears that something got skunked last night, and we are STILL paying the price. It stinks in here. It stinks by my front porch. I'm not sure, but I think the backyard stinks, too.

We believe the skunk is living under Jon's dad's house, which is directly behind our house. Jon's dad had a great plan-- he wants to trap it. In some sort of cage. And then he'll throw a tarp over it, so it won't spray because it won't be able to see its attacker.

Um, no.

So Jon called an exterminator. I know, I know-- I'm Allison Janney from "Over The Hedge." You all know what an animal-rights believer I am. I haven't eaten them in 17 years, for Heaven's sake! But this thing is messin' with my sleep. And that spells trouble for any species.

I'll let you know what happens.

I've been tagged

Probably because my friends are impatient for me to post, and they believe (quite rightly) that this is the only way to get me to do so.

I am to post seven random facts about myself, and tag seven more people. Here we go:

1. I am completely intolerant of stupidity. There-- I said it.
2. I love Thin Mints. I mean really, really LOVE Thin Mints. Good thing Madeline's a Girl Scout.
3. I am on "hard" on Guitar Hero III. And it is really hard.
4. I mother pretty much exactly like my mother did--for better AND for worse.
5. I actually like to grocery shop.
6. Lime green makes me happy.
7. I do not do laundry-- Jon took over that job early in our marriage, when he determined that my laundry skills were lacking.

Now for the tagging-- because we travel in small blog circles, I do not have seven fresh, untagged bloggers to tag. Instead, I will tag Becky, Steph and Tara. The only other two blog addresses I know are Karen and Deb; Karen is apparently quite busy (at least that would seem to be the case, since she has not posted in almost as long as I had not posted), and Deb just had a baby last week-- so three tags will have to do. (And I think Bek has already been tagged, but I didn't see her response, so I am re-tagging her.)