Well, I was hoping for more like 10 to 12 inches of snow but all we got was about 4. My boss is from Alaska so getting him to call a snow day is next to impossible. Every time the weather channel predicts snow and we all start talking about it at work you can just see the "Oh my god they're only calling for INCHES of snow not feet" look come over his face. Most times though he just rolls his eyes and walks away...enough said with the eye roll I guess.
So with the snow comes memories of our trip to Loon Mountain, New Hampshire. Gerry, this yankee guy I used to date had this habit of taking us country hicks everywhere you can possibly think of along the east coast. Why I never saw him use food stamps or coupons is beyond me. Anyway....Loon Mountain. Now Gerry, being from Massachusetts already knew how to snow ski so after the hustle and bustle of renting skiing equipment off he went but not before buying me and Stephie skiing lessons. How embarassing...skiing lessons for me! I should know how to ski even if I do come from a town that all but shuts down entirely at the first flake of snow and besides how bad is this going to make my hair look? How am I going to look period! I already didn't have the proper ski attire. All I had was jeans. Stephie and Jennifer go no where without the latest fashion in tow so they had their little ski suits with matching hair bands, nail polish and lipstick. I was so aggravated to have to do the bunny slope thing. I mean really...what's the incline on those things? Two degrees? Four maybe? At one point I was having to stand there all bow legged and rock back and forth trying to get my skis to move an inch! End result...I'm on my butt looking straight up! The lodge was looking better and better. What I should've done was go to the lodge first. There I could've had a couple of draft beers and blamed my inability to ski on the drinks but it was morning so all they had was orange juice and a bad attitude.
Jennifer, Stephie's cousin is like on skiing commercials she's so good so her and Gerry are on the mountain that goes up and brushes the feet of Jesus while me and Stephie are on the bunny slope built by Tonka trucks. Needless to say I'm not a happy camper. Next thing I know little Miss I Can Do This makes her way to the lift with the aid of Jennifer. Jennifer helps Stephie up twice but Stephie is determined she's going to play with the big kids. This is what you need to know about Jennifer and Stephie. They will sometimes get so mad at each other it turns into a yelling match. I've more than a couple of times thought it best to hire a referee for weekend trips with the two of them. So Jennifer, resident snow ski professional knows how to do the lift thing and Stephie doesn't....she just got off the bunny slope how could she? There's a battle between Jennifer, Stephie, snow skis, snow tongs (what do you call those sticks you ski with anyway?), scarves, boggins you name it they get all tangled. I don't think I even need to tell you that the yelling match between them turned into the lift operators asking:
"Are you guys ok?" "YES!!" they yelled back and off they went.
So I'm praying for a valium as I watch that ding-a-ling daughter of mine go up into the clouds to ski back down. Just off the bunny slope. I'm shaking my head but it's too late now. Gerry's been by a couple of times and he's asked me how the lessons went. Every time I think about this ski trip I think I should write him a check for the cost of the lessons and mail it off. "I can't do it" I said just like a two year old only without the tantrum.
"Where's Stephie Ann and Jennifer?" Gerry asked. All I could do was point upward and blink back the tears.
"WHAT? They went to the top?"
"Yes! Don't say it like that! You're supposed to be the one to say 'they'll be ok!"
He didn't say another word. He just skiied off. Well!? Well!? Has he gone looking for Stephie and that awful Jennifer who dragged my child up the mountain??? Has he gone to bring Stephie's lifeless or paralyzed body back down the mountain?? Can he bring both of them down?? Hmmm, I wonder if they have St. Barnards for rescue here? Valium! Beer! Valium! Beer! Oh Stephie! Please come back down in one piece! Jennifer, that's it! You're not going with us ever again! This and the escalator (another story there buddy) has sent me over the edge with you!
Then I saw the three of them. Stephie, Gerry and Jennifer. All of them. Laughing and having a grand ole time while I shivered in soaking wet jeans from falling so much! Three year olds who I'm sure sprang forth from their mothers wombs with skis strapped to their feet seemed to circle around me mocking me and Stephie, Jennifer and Gerry were joining in!
I don't know when they came in. I left them out there to have a good time while I went and nursed a good pout. Too bad the bar wasn't open!

Pictures!

Grandma Barbara's thinking: "I hope these two don't act like their mama's!"

Pa has reverted back to his Greek shipping captain days...we just play along.

It's "gucka" and "boon" time for Emmie!

We should've put up a sign: "Please don't teach the Grandma new tricks."

I KNOW Emma is showing us how close her boggin comes to matching her baby's. Yes, she is that smart.

Carolina Beach is the beach that we all went to when we were kids. This is the place that I so looked forward to going every summer for a week or two. Daddy would rent an ocean front house no less and would make it a point to take his vacation from the railroad in the summer so that he could spend time with all of us. Why? You've got me on that one! I would probably HAVE to have a bare minimum of 2 weeks vacation withOUT the kids for the sake of my sanity forget the relaxation aspect! I mean really, how can you call it a vacation when you're taking with you: 4 kids (the accident, I mean my baby brother wasn't born yet), a wife, a grandma (my mothers mother), and a siamese cat named (insert drum roll here) Snoopy.
Talk about fun though! Those were absolutely the best years of my life. We would get to the house and immediately jump out of the car and run in checking out the best hiding places as we went. All through the house you heard, "This is my room and I'm not sharing!" along with the sobs from the kids who didn't get the room they wanted or who had to share. In the mean time Mama, Daddy and Grandma are doing the UNfun things like unpacking the car and planning the next meal. We didn't want to eat, we wanted to go out on the beach and get gingerbread tan as we played in the sand and collected shells. It never failed, we had to wait to eat and then wait on Mama and Daddy to change into their bathing suits. Waiting on them was like waiting on the seaons to change...or it was to us as kids anyway. Over and over again we'd say...."Can we go now?" , "What about now, can we go?" After hearing that about 4 times from all 4 kids I can see where it would get on your nerves and you'd finally hand out the verbal threat..."IF EITHER ONE OF YOU ASK ME AGAIN WHEN WE'RE GOING OUT ON THE BEACH I'LL PACK OUR STUFF RIGHT BACK UP AND GO HOME AND I MEAN IT DAMN IT!!" That was Mama. Daddy could flip on his "ignore" button with the best of 'em back then. That worked for about 5 minutes then we were whispering that same question to each other. But we had to have them with us so they could be our personal lifeguards since one of us every summer ended up being knocked down by the waves, dragged under and hauled out about a half mile into the ocean which sometimes left us all but requiring mouth to mouth and cardiac resusitation.
I remember one year my oldest brother, who has always been THE most hard headed was told to get out of the ocean because we were going in. Never mind that we'd been out there till we were dehydrated, had third degree sunburns and were delusional with heat stroke none of us kids were ready to go in! We'd fought our battles over the rooms and played hide and seek till all the good places were as well known as the nearest Wal-Mart. We had already tortured Grandma by doing all the things we knew aggravated her to the point of dreaming of life in a rest home as a luxury. We had even touched her dentures as they soaked in a glass on her night stand. What else was there to do inside?

I guess when you're an eight year old hard headed boy you don't think you need your personal lifeguards so my brother decided to linger for a while in waist deep ocean water as we headed back to the house with our sand toy finds and sea shells (all to fight over later). Mama turned to yell at my brother once more this time with a threat telling him to get out of the water "right this second!"
I'm so glad that I realized that I had dropped my yellow plastic sand shovel. The instant I bent to pick it up I saw a wave that was at least the height of the house we were in come up behind my brother like a black cloak and wrap itself around him! I saw knees...feet...blonde hair...panicked expression...hands...knees...feet...blonde hair...panicked expression...knees...expression. Roll after roll crash after crash the waves just kept coming taking with them by brother in all his hard headedness!

Mama was marching in place, pointing toward my brother and screaming to the top of her lungs "VON! VON! WADE! WADE!" I stood there transfixed on this sight. Nothing else in the world was going on but my brothers battle with the ocean and so far the ocean was winning! Daddy calmly sat the lounge chairs down, told mama to shut up and casually walked down to the shore and plucked my brother out of the ocean like you'd pluck a flower from it's stem...just another day in paradise. We all just stood there & watched my daddy bring my brother back up to where we were by the same arm he'd managed to grab from out of the waves. His feet never touched the ground and he was covered with tiny shells from the very top of his blonde head to the very bottom of his feet. He had that awful cry face and it was then that I realized that even his teeth were covered with tiny shells!
My brother was in trouble because he'd made my mama march in place and scream profanities in front of complete strangers! I didn't lose it though. I knew that even the smallest giggle would mean that I'd be getting the same beating that my brother was about to get! Oh but I followed him and Mama. I followed him and his crying sea shell covered body straight into the house...down the hall to the bathroom and I watched him get a spanking while Mama reminded him: "YOU ARE THE MOST HARD HEADED CHILD I'VE EVER SEEN!" With each word she said, she added a spank. I'm standing there, yellow plastic shovel in hand laughing my head off on the inside at what all I'm getting to see. This beats Grandmas dentures & fighting over the rooms! I wondered with each spank if the shells on my brothers body were like needles when Mama spanked them into his skin. Don't dare laugh, I thought. Ooohh...don't dare smile. I bit the sides of my mouth as Mama ran some bath water while she told my brother that he could stay inside with Grandma for the rest of our vacation. Don't laugh, don't laugh! No! Don't laugh!
Then she did it! My mama pulled my brothers skin tight swim trunks down and there where his butt crack should've been was nothing but sea shells! I lost it! I laughed so hard at him I nearly lost my balance!
I couldn't control my head going back as I laughed! I couldn't control it at all until Mama said..."VON!"...and I heard daddy coming down the hall. His footsteps were like thunder and I knew I was going to get it! "Do you think that's funny? Your brother could've drowned!" "No" I whimpered trying my best to look angelic. Too late. He'd heard me laughing.
Sometime later me and my brother stood on the screened porch watching the waves and the seagulls. He had the snubs still and so did I. His butt was red under his summer pajama bottoms and mine was too. I had to say it. To me it was the only thing that I could say to my brother at the time....


"It's all your fault I got a spanking sea shell butt crack!!"