Keystone Capers

At our Passover seder (meal), we were all tasked with bringing the one item that we would grab if like our ancestors, we were forced to leave our homes in a hurry. As many of you know, I don’t buy anything without asking,” Can I move with this?” — so the challenge for me was not a new one.

I tried to impress the gravity of the task on the kids, and even though Francie kind of got it and brought a book, the boys brought a Frank Gore (NFL) jersey and a basketball. Sometimes I wonder if they really are mine.  (If you were wondering, I didn’t need to bring anything. The only thing I would have brought are baby pictures, and they are saved to the cloud. Do you think that the cloud that the Hebrews followed in the desert had all their data stored on it?)

After a few delightful days in D’Enver with the inlaws, we drove to Keystone for few days of skiing. (D’Enver is my way of compensating for the fact that even though M is practically perfect in every way, he is not French and does not have a family home for me to visit en France. Tant pis.)

We needed a car to get to Keystone, but they ran out of minivans at the rental car place and instead, M was awarded this:


He said it feels like driving a couch. I shall not be finding out.

Although we did not escape in a hurry, nor were there angry Egyptians on our tails, we did have to pack to leave town. The Hebrews may only have had the clothes on their backs and some really shitty flat bread, but a few thousand years later and the inside of our chariot looked like this:


There are five kids hidden in there somewhere. Maybe even a sixth.

When I started to gripe about all the crap we were hauling, M noted that the Hebrews probably didn’t bring three pairs of boots and six novels for four days. (I didn’t think it the right time to tell him that I also brought a pair of sneakers and some ballet flats, just in case I wasn’t feeling the boot thing. A successful marriage is really all about the things you choose not to say.)

We are now at the condo we’ve rented up here. Sidney is on the porch, naked, playing in some snow with Halu and Yendis, the imaginary friends she brought from Seattle. I have no idea where the other children are. M is squealing with joy because, among a stack of the condo’s DVDs, he just found “Caddyshack.”

I am lying down reading book one of six, trying not to panic about tomorrow.

I have skied a handful of times, never particularly successfully, and the last time I did so, Bennett was one.

He turns eleven next week.


Filed under children, footall, France, NFL, parenting, Passover, travel, Uncategorized

2 responses to “Keystone Capers

  1. strawberryquicksand

    Oh, a skiing holiday. How nice. I worked up at Thredbo Resort Centre in Australia’s Snowy Mountains a couple of winters ago. I hadn’t skiied for twenty years, and those memories I have of that particulare skiing holiday are very pleasant and memorable. I was seventeen and it was a lovely school camp in the Pyranees mountains in France.

    Twenty years later, working at Thredbo, I was once again surrounded by snow. Now, I grew up on the Gold coast, a surfing city. People were always heading off for a surf when the waves are big. They did not, however, take time off work to go surfing (well, the odd sickie, but you know..). Working up the hill, however, was a different story. “We just had an awesome dump so Bronnie is off for a ski”. Oh. Oh kay.. I’ll just answer the phones and make the bookings while she is cutting up the slopes. Oh, so now Nicole is off for a ski. Great. I’ll just get the phones and yep, you got it, keep making the bookings.

    Then the girls in the office got the bright idea that I should go for a ski. Now, call me a puritan, but I didn’t feel like sullying my wonderful memories from twenty years earlier of my skiing holiday in France. I don’t own skis, I don’t have any skiing equipment, and I also had no money at the time to rent any. I was booked in for my skiing time at work the next day, so I went home and thought about how much I hated the idea of going skiing. I actually started crying, I hated the idea that much. Suddenly I had an epiphany! “I don’t give a flying f#^* about skiing!”, I shouted to myself. I happily attended work the next day and declared my intentions to stay firmly ensconced in the office answering phones and making bookings until the proverbial mountain cows came home.

    I hope that, after ten years of skiing, you have a really good time, and manage to stay upright. 🙂

  2. I think I am about to find out whether or not I give a fig about skiing. Thanks SO Much for that fabulous story and stay tuned! (Btw, I just love all your comments!)

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