Ski Day with The Buddies

I'm not sure how The Mister convinced me...  I must have been experiencing a weak (maybe semi-unconscious)  moment...  But somehow, he did persuade me that seven-year-old triplets and a tow rope seemed like the makings of a fun Saturday afternoon.

Let me just give you a heads-up.  The phrases seven-year-old triplets and tow rope should never be used in the same sentence unless you are describing some new method of parental torture.  Really.  I tried to persuade The Mister that Ski-Wee was the way to go--he had another, more hands-on, approach in mind.

I have to confess that I have done very little skiing in the past few (read 20+) years.  I traded in my skis for a snowboard in '88 and carved down the path of no return.  But even I had to admit that it would be easier to accompany a first-time skier up a tow rope if I were on skis instead of strapped to my board.

So, off we went, up the canyon to Alta.
Home of the skiers--haters of snowboards...

Upon arrival, I was obligated to don a pair of rented (and intensely uncomfortable) ski boots.  My comfy (old) Langs were left at our cabin.  I then strapped on some rented skis.  The Buddies got buckled in as well, and they hit the snow at full tilt.
  

The Buddies spent a lot of time in the following (and similar other) positions...

 

  

The Buddies each had their share of these moments as well...

 

  

 

Lots of hard work?  It sure was.

Worth it?  Yep!

 

Would I do it again?  

Sure, but you better give me a week or so to recover!

Why Nobody Answers the Phone.

Nobody answers the phone at my house.  The home phone rings, but HRH knows if it were for her, the call would be coming in on her cell.  The Boy doesn't live here officially, so nobody calls our number for him--so even if he's visiting, why should he bother?  The Mister just has no desire to go phone-chasing.  And The Buddies can't be bothered with a ringing phone when there is a wii to master...  That leaves me.  I am the (un)official phone answerer.   But there's a problem...

Apparently, I've become technology challenged...  Or maybe I'm just telephonically challenged.  Between the voice dialing incident (which was repeated the following day - lol) and this latest incident, it's clear that I have issues with phones.

I'm living a situation reminiscent of Sixth Sense.  But I don't see dead people (thankfully).  Instead, I hear phones ringing.  But I am as accursed as poor Cole Sear (Haley Joel Osment), I hear the ringing, but am powerless to do anything about it but stand by and let it happen.  I hear ringing from my purse--what magic causes my cell phone to vanish into that seemingly bottomless bag?  The ringing can be heard from the AV room...  But there's no phone in there, just a cordless-phone base that rings unhelpfully, taunting me to go rushing in on my fruitless search for a handset. 

On Monday morning I was trying to wrap up an important call while also attempting to get out the door.  I was in a hurry to get on the road, so I kept chatting as I moved toward the garage.  I ended the call as I climbed into the car and pulled away from the house.

Life went on.  I went to work.  The kids went to school.  All was right with the world. 

Three days later the phone rings.  I hear the ring from the cordless-phone base, but there's no handset.  I cannot answer the phone.  I can find the dead handset (why can't anyone put that thing on the charger?).  But I can't find an actual, active, ringing telephone.  Why?  Where is that phone!? 

I'm back in my car.  HRH is rummaging through the bottomless void (no doubt looking for money for the movie) when she pulls out the cordless handset.  She looks at me with that eyebrow-raised look that only a teenage girl can master.  That look that expresses disdain and incredulity at the same time.  And informs me that she has found the phone.

Bless her...

Why am I yelling in my car?

I got up this morning with an agenda.  I knew that I would be spending nearly all day in my car.  But I wasn't unnerved by that fact, because I like my car.  It's a new car.  And (today, at least) it's a clean car that smells really good!  It's a car with a hands-free phone system, a satellite radio, and a DVD player (not that I planned to watch while driving--duh). 

I prepared for my day by grabbing a Diet Pepsi, my iPod, the GPS, assorted CDs, and my cell phone.  And for the most part, I was looking forward to a day alone in my car...  I sooo enjoy being alone in my car--nobody to re-tune the radio, nobody to tell me to turn it down, turn it up, turn it off...  I was prepared, and looking forward to my little road trip...

My hearts-and-flowers vision of the drive quickly dissolved into chaotic humor.  I didn't get far from home before the GPS started yelling at me.  And I don't mean talking loudly, the volume was set at 100%, it was yelling!  Unfortunately, at the same time the GPS started yelling, I was also voice-dialing my mom.  My car then started yelling at me...

That command is not understood.  Please rephrase!  

Of course my car couldn't understand!  While I was saying,

Call Mom, 

the GPS was yelling,

Turn Right in 50 feet! 

And I found myself yelling at everyone to Shut Up!  Of course, by everyone, I mean noone...  I was, as you recall, alone in my car...

What?

Sometimes I have to wonder what goes on in the minds of my children.

The Boy stopped in this morning for a visit.  I spent the entirety of the day wondering when he was going to drop the bomb (and what was that bomb going to be?).  He had to be there for a reason, right?  To be fair, we do see him periodically (since college and his apartment aren't too far away), but still, it was a little surprising to have him here for the whole day.

Mid-morning, we decided to run to Costco for a few items.  While we were there, we ran into Zeke's first grade teacher.  I razzed her for leaving my child unsupervised, but she informed me that the class had been left in the capable hands of the student teacher.

After school, I asked Zeke if he knew that I had seen his teacher at Costco.  He did know, and informed me that she had asked if the tall, dark-haired boy with me was Zeke's big brother.  Here's where it gets strange.  Zeke went on to tell me that he had told his teacher that Mike was his big brother, but not really, and not from the same family, and that he came from a different country....?  Huh?

Let me just assure you that The Boy is in fact one of my five children.  Born of my body.  And, for the record, born on American soil.  Where do kids get these things?

And another thing, I'm still trying to figure out what prompted The Boy's visit...  Ideas?

Happy Groundhog Day!

Weight, What Happened?

At some point, you just have to get serious about the weighty issues.  In late September, I did just that.  I took matters in hand, and dedicated myself to the weight-loss cause (also known as Bebe's Great Transformation).  I knew that I had to do something different, after all, doing what I had been doing would just keep me going in the same direction...  And that direction wasn't giving me any wiggle room in my jeans!  So, I made some changes, some of them drastic, and I set some goals.

The best thing I did was buy a BodyBugg.  I love that thing!  I've worn it nearly as faithfully as I would a pacemaker!  I watch what I eat like a Nazi, and I'm brutally honest when I log my daily food intake.  Because I remain vigilantly aware of my choices, I was even able to lose weight over the Christmas and New Year's holidays!

Two weeks ago, I met my goal.  I stepped on my bathroom scale (not the Mister's body fat scale *shudder*) and was pleased to see the digital display reflect that magic number.  Unfortunately, I guess I had a somewhat idealized notion of what I would look like at my goal weight.  So, I set a new target.  It seems so unfair that this weight, on my nearly 40 year old body, isn't as cute as it was on my 30 year old body.  Unfair, because I've worked harder to achieve this weight at this age, and the results just aren't as pleasing...

My work in real estate has taught me the importance of location, location, location...  My "curves" have seemingly relocated--to less desirable locations...  But the truth is, even with the migration from desirable neighborhoods to more questionable areas, I'm generally satisfied.  There's nothing like trying on a pair of jeans, and needing to go back for a smaller size.  Of course, there's also nothing like actually being able to find jeans in readily available sizes!  I'm no longer shopping in the Nether Land of Denim. Hurray!

PS.  If you haven't checked it out, scroll to the bottom of the page to see my SkinnyR Graph!