WTF - Packing for a Trip

We are ending up our two weeks at the beach, and I can't tell you how much I hate having to get everything ready for heading to the mountains.  Here's a list of things Mom and Dad need to do:

1.  Clean out the fridge, hear the hubby stand behind me complaining about all the food that got forgotten in the back of the fridge and how much money we are wasting (I could turn with the grey strawberries and offer them to him, but that probably wouldn't go over too well)

2.  Clean out the cabinets wondering who bought the 14 cans of Spaghettios and who was ever going to eat the Kale Chip/Dried Carrot Veggie Snacks, and then remembering in was me in on that first day thinking, "This year we are going to eat healthy, read our books, practice violin AND do math problems EVERY DAY."

3.  Pack up violin, books and Math books with a sigh.

4.  Clear out the bathrooms.  I'm taking all that shit with me.  No I don't mean shit, I mean toilet paper, hand wash, I paid for it, so I'm taking it.

5.  Pack up all the beach crap.  Spend too much time trying to get the sand off of it, then trying to get the sand off of me.

6.  Organizing and packing the trailer full of bikes, kayaks, paddle boards and crap.  It's like a life-size game of Tetriz, and I am losing.

7.  Crawl under couches, beds and chairs - find the pair of nail clippers you've been looking for all week, very happy that you just bought another pair at the store because you couldn't find the original pair, find someone else's sunglasses, happy that you are now ahead.

8.  Take all the stuffed animals won at the cheap arcade and put them in a large trash bag, parade past the children showing them the bag.  Go stuff it in a closet for the next renters.

9.  Pickup all the dog poop in the area from two weeks.  Wonder how so much can come out of such a small creature.

10.  Tell the kids it's time to go.  They explain they are not ready yet.  Ask what they have to do.  They say they have to pack.  Think that's what we've been doing all morning, this is going to take forever.

They're out 5 minutes later after throwing all their shit into their backpack.

It's time to go, one last go through the house, checking dressers, cabinets, refrigerator, dryer, and dishwasher.  When everything is secure, lower the unit temperature and walk out to your truck, pulling a trailer full of crap and head on home.

Return 10 minutes later to the dog waiting by the front door.

Not your Normal Kind of Vacation

Our last day begins with a purpose to totally fry what you have left because -

this is it.

Snow season is done.

Go big or go home.

Not to mention Joss Christensen and Sage Kotsenburg both Olympic Gold Medalists from Socchi were signing autographs.  Nothing like meeting them making you want to take it to the next level.

Enter our expert ski instructor - Annebritt Birkeland.

She's been my Internet friend for quite some time now, a kindred spirit who enjoys telling the same raunchy jokes I like to tell, along with the few "Be who you are" type posts.  We planned on meeting face to face, and I was hoping for a little "ski talk" from her too.

I was talking about taking one of the kids up to Jupiter Bowl, and part of our day included an incredible fresh powder run along the bowl, giving up a look at what they were thinking about getting themselves into.  Yes, looking straight up at the cliffs, and all the trees, I was very glad that all three kids lost interest early this morning when they hit the park,  just looking up at the pitch made my sphincter dilate and I wasn't even skiing it.

The children sensing that it was the last day, circled both of us like indians on the wagon train.  Before we knew it, each had a T-shirt, one  had a hoodie, and we even purchased a new set of bindings.  Sure it helped that everything was 40-70% off, making the hubby a little less irritated.  It did now help when the one child said, "I could get new bindings if you and Mommy didn't have to buy all that beer."

I learned that I leaned too far back when I ski, and was working some serious moguls by the end of the day, my legs giving up finally at 4pm and waving the white flag.  Not to let the fun end, we invited Anna over to High West Distillery for our last night out.  Of course, the kids were free to heat up chicken fried rice in the condo.

We tasted great food, even better whiskey and got to chat rather than on Facebook messenger.  I always pride myself in surrounding myself with friends that are wide open and leaving North Carolina for the Winter to season to live in a one bedroom Yurt and teach skiing not only makes me jealous (while the kids are fighting right now) but gives me aspirations of taking what you want and going for it.

So a 10 day trip to Utah ended with a surprise friendship that will travel back and forth over the years.

To sum it up, it was a week full of surprises - not just the incredible amount of snow, but Boxes, and Bowls, and Black Diamonds and finally two bottles of the Booyhan hidden in the suitcases for when we miss Utah.

See you next year -

Another Shitty Day in Paradise

I will not get on my soap box about sickness.  If you are sick, and you know what you have is contagious - why the hell, would you go out and be around the human population?  For God's sake, stay home until you are well and people will not HATE you!


That being said, we have had a few shitty days in paradise.

Out first day on the snow was blizzard type conditions, snow sideways, and many lifts closed due to wind.  So what do we do - dress up in as many layers as possible and GO OUT anyway!

We make it until about 3pm when one of the kids looks at me and says (very seriously) "I must get to a lodge immediately."

Well, what the hell does that mean?  My mother's intuition says, "He means it, get him there immediately."

We take the lift up and made our way to the lodge, I'm thinking, "It can't be that bad."

Well, I was wrong.

My poor child, racing for the bathroom runs in, past this poor dude, holding the mop, obviously cleaning up after someone else, and proceeds to empty everything in his stomach all over the bathroom.  A trail of green colored vomit that runs across both sinks, along the floor, and all over the toilet he finally made it to.

I look at the poor kid with a mop.

His face is white.  It looks like, "what the hell, you gotta be shitting me?"  I almost say, "oh the shit is ready to hit now."

The poor child, moves from covering the sinks to covering the toilets.  As I wonder how could something affect so much so quickly?  Feeling bad, I tip the white faced guy holding a mop 20 bucks, the poor guy deserves it for having to do such a shitty job!

What do we do?  He's sitting at the Summit of the mountain hugging a trash can.

The poor child ends up in the toboggan behind ski patrol snowmobile as his only way off the mountain.

Me?  I ski down grab the car and run over to pick him up.  Side note:  Guy who comes up and says to me, "Obviously you didn't read the sigh, get you car out of this area."

Of course, full Mom kicks in.  I turn to him,  "Listen, had you stopped and asked me the situation, I could have said it was an emergency and I was waiting for kid off the snowmobile.  But no, you assumed I was here for no reason and look like the asshole you are for saying that too me.  Oh, and since I am with my vehicle, had an emergency vehicle come up to pick my nephew up, well, I could have gotten out of the way."

Lesson learned - Don't mess with a Mom, especially when she knows she's got a shitty job ahead of her.

Of course I look it up - symptoms:  extreme vomiting, fever, extreme flatulence - wait a minute, that's why there was that nasty smell in the car on the trip?

The poor child spends the night sitting on the toilet while hugging a trash can.

Next day - another one wakes up with a "Mom, I think I just sharted my pants...."

A.  How does he know the word Sharted?
B.  Why do I have a stomach ache?
C.  Oh shit, how could a child project vomit that far?

Sometimes being a Mom can be a really shitty job......

This Ain't No Black Diamond....

What a difference a day makes.  Yesterday we were with blizzard conditions and wind chills at close to zero today was bluebird skies and 6-8 inches of fresh snow!

Jeff had to work, one was down for the count on sickness, so it was the three of us hitting first trax on the ski slopes.  Funny, how getting to that fresh powder is a life long ambition of many, with the first lift rides resembling a Who Concert of who's getting off and beating all the other skiers to the fresh snow.  I totally understood as I was in full sweat from getting to the top of a run and DANGIT, someone beat me to it.

Of course, you wish for it and sometimes if pays you back.  The snow was fresh and deep and as I had my first yardsale (the process by which a skier loses every part of their equipment in an epic wipeout) I realized this was so different from my icy skiing of Beech Mountain.  After making it down my first run (out of breath) I realized that I needed a few adjustments to my technique - specifically finding the groomed runs.

I go all morning with the boys, non stop until around noon when I am ready for a break and possibly a beer.  Of course, murphy's law, my husband calls and joyfully says, "I'm here, let's RIDE!"

Dayum.

They take me up to the top of the lift.  We get off on what resembles Morodor - or the Cliffs of Doom.  The rest of the family is excited, I however am looking around thinking, "It's a beautiful view, but how do we get down?"

My hubby answers my question, "Do the Double Black Diamond Kelly, everyone says it is an easy Black Diamond."

(Did I mention that Jeff heard this in the bar before coming to meet me, did I also mention that he didnt' tell me this before he took me up the lift)

So, I love testing my limits, but my Quads already hate me at this point from skiing all day, and as I stand at the top of a ledge looking down thinking, "OK, this ain't no black diamond."

My problem at this point:

I have no way to go but down.
I have to go to the bathroom so I cannot bust it on this one.
Everyone has already gone, am I going to be shown up by a 9 year old?

Unfortunately, I am committed.

It takes me 30 minutes.  A few wipeouts, a few turns that I am not proud of (one ski, holy shit type of moves) and I make it to the bottom with a deep breath.

Oh, what?

The only way down is this second double black diamond called,  "You'll Never Survive This One Kelly."  Another 30 minutes later, I am crawling over to the lift where the rest of the family is standing there looking annoyed.

"Where were you," they say, looking amazingly rested because they've been waiting for me for 20 minutes.

"Surviving," I get out as I almost fall over into the snow.

"Well, what are we waiting for - let's get going....."

Ugh.

Sometimes Your Butt Must Say What's On Its Mind

We stepped out of the condo, walking down to the lift, ready for a day on the snow.  My butt however, had better ideas.

"Do you realize it is snowing?  And if it is snowing, then it is below freezing.  Which means I am not happy.  What?  You are still getting on the lift, didn't I explain that it is cold here, meaning it is freezing up there?"

I don't listen to it, because who listens to their butt anyway, and ride the lift up to the top of the mountain.  The kids are excited and as I ski a few runs keeping up with them, my butt starts again, "Aren't you freezing?"

I look around, there's no one there, so I can talk to my butt, "Yes, I am freezing.  But they are having a great time so I am just going to suck it up."

The wind blows again, stopping me in my skis, my butt sighs, "I give up, you're on your own.  I hope we survive this."

I stop by the trees and say out into the blowing snow and wind, "Well maybe I'm attempting to freeze my butt off, OK?"

My butt, is now having a conversation with my hands, "You tell her."

My hands, cough a little bit then whisper, "Hey.  Have you noticed that the tips of your fingers are starting to sting a little bit?"

I'm skiing down my favorite run and choose to ignore both of them.  At the bottom as I work over to the lift they start again.

"I hate to be a pain in the butt, but I don't have feeling in my first and ring finger."

"My goodness you sat again in a seat full of snow."

"Are we done yet?"

I smile at the family, hunkering down for each lift ride, telling myself that I can do it and I will because:
a.  I paid a lot of money for these lift tickets, and WILL get my money's worth.
b.  Everyone else seems fine, I'm the only one suffering.
c.  Sometimes it is not about me.

Finally after another hour to two, both my hands, my butt and my feet have decided to stop talking to me.

One of the kids leans over in the lifts, "I'm freezing, can we go down to the condo and add another layer?"

Everyone else in the groups immediately adds, "Yeah, I need my long underwear.  Why didn't I put that fleece on.  I'm afraid to move my toes."

I look at all of them thinking, "I guess if I was feeling that way everyone else was, I guess I should ahve said something sooner.

We ski down to the condo, my butt, fingers and feet saying, "I told you so."

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Today is St. Patrick's Day, a holy holiday in the McKeon family.  A wonderful holiday for me full of sweet memories.

My mother always had a green milk for breakfast, and for dinner.  Sure we had corned beef and cabbage, but the green milk was always the highlight of our day.

My father loved to sing Irish songs, my favorite was Mother MaCree, the most poignant time when my Aunt Marie passed away and everyone was sitting around at her funeral.  They started with, "Buddy, sing Danny Boy."  Then it was "Buddy, sing Rose of Tralee," until finally, "Buddy, sing Mother Macree."  He could never finish that song without a tear in his eye, and my grandmother blubbering.  Since both of the Kelly sisters had departed for the sweet hereafter, my father sang it for both of them, the rest of the family doing the blubbering for him.

I traveled to Ireland with my father and my Aunt on the "trip of a lifetime," both of them finally getting to a place of their dreams.  I'll never forget standing on top of the Blarney Castle, my father laughing and saying, "You don't need to kiss the stone Kelly, you already have the gift of gab!"  We traveled downtown Dublin, making sure to stop at the Guiness factory, my father happily taking the extra tickets from our travel group to the "tasting room."  My Dad was the only person who ever called me Kate, I have a card for my birthday in Gaelic, saying, "We'll never have this again, our birthdays in Ireland, Kate."

I went back to Ireland with my family and my Mother.  I will never forget the flight to the Aran Islands in a small aircraft prompting my mother to say, "My Volkswagon has more aerodynamics than this plane."  She wasn't happy when they weighed all of us before deciding where we sit on the airplane, something about distribution of weight ("Why am I in the back," my mother asked.)  The plane flew off of a cliff, dropped then came up slowly over the ocean before starting toward the island.  I will never forget the look on my mother's face when the plane dropped.

For my 40th birthday, the family went to Ireland for a week.  One of my fondest memories, was Wolfgang, 3 at the time, going into a hole with his Shilelagh trying to find a Leprechaun to "Bop" on the head and take home to be his friend.

Now we create our own St. Patrick's Day Memories, just like my Mom, no holiday is complete without the green milk, green pancakes and a visit from Buddy McShae, our resident leprechaun.  He's a grumpy old fella, who short sheets the beds, leaves green glitter AND doesn't flush the toilet.

Make your memories now because they become your favorite memories later.

And old Irish proverb once said,

Help I,ve fallen in the TSA line

How do you make it through the TSA line?  Here's some easy steps:

Easiest way to not get strip searched?  Strip first and walk through naked.

Take your brass nuckles and put them in the bag of the person ahead of you.

Let them do every type of metallic scan, then casually say, "Oh, I know what it is.  I forgot and left my Ben Wah Balls in.  Do you need to keep searching?"

Walk around saying loudly, "Man!  everyone's feet here STINK!"

If they ask if you have anything to declare, tell them you are allergic to latex.

Go through in a toga explaining it is the dress of your people.

Go through in a kilt saying, "Oh, I've been waiting for you!" To the agent.

Explaintion: it is the hair dryer that looks like a 357 Magnum, you don't need to pull it out.

Bring an extra bag with you and leave it sitting unattended.  This keeps everyone busy enough to not fool with your bag.

Ride in a wheelchair, they always get through the line first.  Better yet, pay someone to wheel you through the line and leave your brass knuckles in their pocket.

After your strip search walk out of the room proclaiming, "Ask for Carl!  he's got LITTLE hands!"

And to make your trip more enjoyable here is an actual list of items you cannot take through security:
Meat cleavers
Grenades
Cattle prods. (Guess your kids will actually enjoy the trip)
sabers
Brass Knuckles
Tear Gas
Gun lighters

Check your luggage and thank you for flying TSA Security line!

Life's a Beach - Would you like Tomato with that SANDwich?

I am a mountain girl.  Give me cooler weather, less humidity and specifically NO SAND.  I swear, sand can get everywhere at the beach.  Here's a few facts about sands:

If your baby has chubby rolls on their body, the sand becomes like glue, no amount of bathing will get the sand out of these crevices.

For some reason, babies are the only human beings on this planet that think sand tastes good.

There is always that kid at the beach that thinks it is cool feeding the sea gulls, and that child is directly in front of you----meaning, all the sea gull butts are pointed in your direction as they fight for that Frito.

There is a direct correlation between the amount of wind at the beach and how many kids with flip flops walk by your blanket.

There is another direct correlation between how much you don't feel like getting in the water and kids with sandy feet walking across your blanket.

Always, remember to applaud the lifeguard with everyone else at the beach when you child is saved, better yet make sure you hand your beer to your friend before you get up and run to the water's edge.

If you leave your chair unprotected, even for a few seconds, someone with a sopping wet bathing suit will plop their butt into your chair and soak it.

Remember that kid in front of you feeding the sea gulls?  That's the same kid that picks up his sand filled towel and times his shaking it with the huge gust of wind.

It is usually your child that throws off the pound of sand from their towel directly into the face of the person downwind from you - it is your job to act as if nothing happened.

Having wind at the beach helped us come up with some new terms for sand:

Sandbar - the swimming sand in the bottom of your cooler, that gets into your beer.

Cheese Sandoodling - the sound of that crunch of the cheese doodle covered with sand.

Sandoo - this is a new type of hair sculpting done usually at the beach with wind and sand.

SANDwich - down South - a tomato, mayonnaise, white bread with a healthy dose of wind sand.

Sand Castle - that family that has to hit the beach at 436am to build their compound complete with the 200 dollar tent that no one is sitting under.

Sandfoliate - the act of exfoliating your skin while applying suntan lotion at the beach.

Sandpaper - no not the cheap roll someone bought at the dollar store, but the pages of your book once a big gust of wind blows through.

Most fun a Mom can have at the beach - when she is ALONE!

Happy Summer Days.

Signs you should really go back to reality

Is it really over?  Are we finishing up the last days?  Can I hold onto them for just a little bit longer?  Here's a few reasons why our Christmas Holiday and Winter Break need to end.

1.  My lounge pants have filed a restraining order - they've been abused by me for 14 days, I'm sure they'll need years of therapy they feel so dirty.

2.  My razor has filed a missing persons report on me - sure I'm in the mountains and Sasquatch type hair is normal, but having to grab the scissors before the razor is simply not good.

3.  My stove has asked me to end the separation - it misses me, and judging from my waistline I miss it too.

4.  My Vegetables are talking behind my back - they are whispering to each other that the bloated feeling and the flatulence is a result of a basic chicken tender diet for 14 days - oh and adding the jalapeno pickles does not constitute a vegetable.

5.  There is something wrong with my kids - they have spent so much qaulity time together that they, and I are just took tired to fight anymore.

6.  Facebook has filed a restraining order - I officially received a letter from Marc Zuckerberg asking me to stop clogging the Facebook database with all my witty status updates.

7.  The check engine light came on for my liver - yes, spending way too much time at a ski resort will do this.  My son actually asked his Dad for some Tamiflu for the ride up the lift pointing to the flask.

8.  I watch Lifetime Channel - I've watched so many movies that I'm down to Hallmark and Lifetime to find something new.

9.  My books miss me - I've hit mottom when my reading consists of status updates and blogs.  My books gathering dust on the side table sobbing.

10.  I can't fit in my pants.

The poor crab....

Poor crab, moseying along on top of the female crab (if you know what I mean) when down comes this big green net and he's plucked out of the water!

Three kids, and one dog stare at him...his pinchers go up because he's pissed! Interrupted and now sitting in a small trash can with two other little crabs looking at him like, "Yeah, got us too...doesn't this suck?" He'll get his revenge, just wait....

The dogs sniffs the can, the kids think of him as a pet, "We'll name him Ocean, right?" "Or should be call him Blue?" Adults know that if they look the other way, he'll be called "dinner." The crab waits.....

"See this one? It's a crab...." The finger comes a little close and he waits patiently for his chance.....wait for it, wait for it.....

OUCH! He's flung up and out of the trash can back to the deck, and scurries with a plunk into the water. The kids look at one very red finger, "Oh well, he wanted to get back to his wife anyway."

Love it when they think the crabs have to be married to mate (doing my job, I guess) and he gets away as the youngest learns the lesson, don't poke any body part around angry blue crabs with pinchers!

He scurries around in the water, not noticing the green net sneaking up on him!!

Don't think....just do!

With the RV booked, I now have too much to think about, and as I wake in the middle of the night in a panic attack, I use the same mantra I use at the beginning of any bucket list race, "Don't think about it, just do it." If I stopped to think about it, there are several things that come to mind:

My boys have been talking WAY too much about figuring out how the potty works on the RV. Guess who has to clean the thing out?

The largest vehicle I've ever driven in a Suburban, so of course I'm thinking about driving a 25 foot vehicle. I'm thinking about going to the dealership and test driving a very large hummer (boy someone could make some REALLY BAD jokes with that one) and get some experience.

I have to quit watching Criminal Minds until after the trip, most of the crazy bad guys are in search of people alone and wait a minute, didn't that last guy go into the RV park?

So I'll just push those thoughts from my mind as I get out my map, and figure out my route. My one caveat is that it's a route that I'm familiar with and there's people along the way. Sometimes you just have to put your face in the water and swim, I mean, climb in the seat and get the show on the road. Think I should put a lock on the toilet?