Another Christmas vacation ends tonight.  This was a particularly fun example.  Since the Franks showed up the day after Christmas, we've all been partying much harder than we otherwise would be.  Of course, at our advanced ages, "partying hard" consists mostly of letting Mom do all the cooking while we have cocktails every night and go to bed at nine.

In addition to more movies than usual, we took the kids ice skating one day, over at Centennial Lakes.  CL is a lovely set up not far from here, where they have a series of connected ponds set in a lovely little park surrounded by high end town houses.  In the summer time, one can paddle on the pond, listen to outdoor music at the amphitheater, eat outside at any of the fine restaurants (I do not include Chuck E Cheese's, even though it is the same establishment frequented by James and Gnat Lileks), play miniature golf or croquet on the well manicured lawns.  There is also ice cream.  In the winter there's skate rentals and roaring fires in the grates at either end of the quaint yet modern warming house, which also has a snack bar serving cocoa.  If it served whiskey it'd be the perfect winter hang out.  Unfortunately, hockey is not allowed at CL; they have no boards.  This place is for couples, grandparents and little kids.  It was great for us, because the Franks don't have their own skates.  Where they live in Colorado, it's all about the snow, not so much the ice.

We tried to be all cultural and piled two suburbans full of kids one day and went into town to the American Swedish Institute.  This is a great little museum all about our Swedish heritage (they let us Irish in, too) set in an old mansion built to look just like a castle.  It's a really fun place, but our kids don't know that because when we got there, it was closed.

I am still pissed about that.  We checked their website, their calendar, to make sure the place was open and the hours were good.  We even called and got a voice mail assuring us that the only days it was closed were Christmas Eve and Day, and New Year's Day.  Yet when we arrived, well within the established visiting hours, on a day they assured us repeatedly that they would welcome us in, the lights were off and the gates padlocked.  This was especially disheartening, as the wreaths and garlands decorating the outside of the building made us yearn for a look at the inside.

Oh well, it's locked, let's go see the Art Institute instead, I know it's around here somewhere!  Couldn't find it.  Drove the length of 24th from the highway to the river, couldn't find it.  Perhaps I've forgotten and it's actually west of the highway, but on the map, it sure looked like it was east.

After driving around for an hour, giving the kids a tour of the ugliest neighborhoods in town (yes, they are!  don't even try!) we wound up back at my house, pounding cocoa and cookies.  You can't say I didn't salvage the afternoon. 

We did successfully take them all sledding one day, although we tried hard to bollux that one up, too.

We had three carloads of sleds and kids, all heading to Webber park, which is close to home and has an awesome hill with no trees.  This would've worked out fine, but as I turned toward Webber, Margy called me.

"Where are you going?" she asked.  She and Jeff were following me, as they don't know their way around town.

"Webber is two blocks up, we're almost there."  I said.

"That's great, but Katie's going to Theodore Wirth."  I was told.

It would've been helpful if someone had informed me of the change of plans before we all left the house.  Theodore Wirth is across town, I've never been there and I don't know exactly where the hill is.  Theodore Wirth is a parkway, a golf course and a park.  Saying "meet me at Theodore Wirth" is like saying "meet me at the Mississippi river."  It's not helpful.

Katie, who apparently changed plans secretly and unilaterally, was also the only one who knew where she was going.  And the only one who didn't have her cell phone.

We headed north, but didn't wind up at Theodore Wirth.  Zack, who was directing me, used the fog of uncertainty to his own advantage and brought us all to a hill he had visited with a bunch of his buddies last week.  It was very high,long, narrow and in the middle of the woods.  There was a five foot jump built halfway down the run.  The kids loved it.

While Katie and her kids snow boarded at TW, me, Margy, Jeff and fifteen other kids were taking their lives in their hands with every run, trying to see who could grab the most air, avoid hitting any trees and make it to the bottom of the hill still in possession of their sleds, their heads and their butts. (Oh relax.  Jeff is a doctor.  He could've set any bones if necessary.) After about a half hour, we (the adults) decided we should go find Katie.  So we did.  Theodore Wirth hill SUCKED compared to the death trap in the woods, so we all went back there.  We watched the kids flirt with death and disaster until our feet were frozen.

To give you an idea of how tired we all were, Katie had a New Year's Eve party which Josie was home from by 9:30.  And she was the last to leave the party.

Poor Jay has been sick since 2009 began.  He tried to ride it out in bed but he had a game on Saturday.  He drove himself to Hibbing, rather than sit on the bus, infecting the whole team.  They won.  One of his assistants drove him home.  If I had the choice between sitting on a bus all the way home from Hibbing, or driving the Audi limo with a flu case sitting next to me, I'd certainly take my chances with the flu.

Since Jay was out of town all day Saturday, I took the opportunity to leave, also.

I went to Middle Earth. 

My trip was longer, more comfortable and far more fun than his.

 

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