Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Uncle Merv in the snow

My boy's 16th birthday coincided with a weekend invitation to Big Bear.

Wait, what? SIXTEEN?!

I know.

Anyway, we jumped at the chance to do something fun and different in celebration of life, happiness, and getting really really really really old.

What do you get when you mix four families, several guests, one birthday, a snowstorm, a mountain, a house full of tchotchkes, a heated toilet seat..... um. Wait, what was I talking about? Does anyone understand Uncle Merv's meanderings? Let's just roll the film:

We were in charge of dinner the first night, in the form of self made pizzas and birthday desserts. I made a lasagne, but didn't quite calculate the thawing time correctly what with the frigid tundra and all. It was a delightful midnight snack, and the pizzas were rockin. 

The house was three stories of fun. I haven't gone up and down so many stairs since 'nam.

After dinner, we called the birthday boy out from his lair to be serenaded

and generously gifted

And observed

The next morning, men made meat

then we headed out into the D A Y

yeah baby
Bill and the kids jumped into a lesson while I guarded the lodge. It was hard to be the inactive one, but I opted to save a few bucks and be the contact person for peeps coming up and down the mountain. I also could not fathom the idea of trying to find another single item of freaking snow gear  without going completely and irrevocably mental. 

So I hung out and took about 800 photos just like this one

Maybe those are my peep in their lesson? I have no idea

Maybe I am related to some of the legs hanging down from the lift? I'm sure I know somebody on that mountain.  

Hey, I know this guy!

and these guys

and these fine folks! 

the breaks were my favorite
The next morning, we woke to a view we had not yet seen because we were all stuck in the clouds


We could actually see the buildings in downtown LA
then it got stormy again - a different kind of spectacle, equally beautiful
The house was something...more about that next time

the snow was pristine

treehouse par-tay

love these girls

The branches were so cold and perfect and inviting yet not. I couldn't stop photographing them

Becky thought they made her look smart

Whoa, she must be a genius!
Others were more smart in style

album cover?

This is how the view looked the rest of our time up there

The Group Photo That Noone Wanted to Take. Except for me, who forced and cajoled even the smallest barefoot people into participation. 

And finally, but most notably:
It wouldn't be snow without a snowdude, right? 

Monday, March 2, 2015

Black cats

My youngest has joined her first sports team. She's taken gymnastics before, and goes to weekly swim lessons more than half the year, but she's never been on a bonafide team before. I mean, she's only 5, so this is how it should be. But, the time has come -- she is playing T ball in the local 6-and-under league.

It is so stinkin' cute. The girls have no earthly idea what they're doing. Therefore during practices and games there is a lot of repetitive shouting of the word, "run."

As in, after a girl hits the ball at home plate and stands there looking around: "Run, run, run, run, run." Or when the ball is hit by a teammate and the girl is still standing on first watching her teammate run toward her: "Run, run, run, run."

The other phrase you hear a lot of is, "Get the ball, get the ball, get the ball." This one, not surprisingly, is chorused when your team is in the field. And is of course followed by, "Throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball."

It goes on like that for all 3 innings, during which every girl from each team gets a turn up to bat.

It sounds boring, but ach, they are just all so cute at this age, and no one is competitive yet, not even the dads. (This does not last, I can  promise you that).

When my girl's team was assigned black shirts, making their uniforms completely back, they were bummed for a minute, but then decided to call themselves the Black Cats.  White shocks with pink paw prints were purchased for the girls, and on opening day for their photos, well, there was this too:

Adorable, right?
I can't tell you how refreshing it is to go to a game and root on your team and not care a whit, not one little tiny whit, if they win or lose. Because at this stage, the winning is in the trying, in the doing; in the process and not the product.

Damn, I could use more of that in my life. I think we all could....

Friday, February 27, 2015


Weddings and funerals. That's when you get to see beloved old friends, and beloved old cousins. Not old-old. Lifelong.

Funerals are sad -- of course they are -- but a funeral for an older person is so much less sad and grievous than a funeral for a young person.

And, you get to reunite with beloved old friends.



And also . . .
. . . you get to reunite with beloved old friend's daughters . . .

. . . and beloved old friend's sons . . .

. . . and beloved old friend's moms . . .

. . . and beloved old friend's sisters . . .

 . . . and best of all?

. . . you get to reunite with beloved old friends.