Spring Break 2010: Part I

For the past several years, I have spent all or part of spring break at my parents' cabin in central Washington. Going there is like one big exhale. Descending the hairpin turns that lead from the desert to the river, with views that stretch for miles... it all just makes everything right, no matter if anything was wrong to begin with.

Hazel loves it too. Her first trip was on her 4-week birthday for the annual Kaiser Labor Day Get Together and I swear she recognizes the sacredness of The Cabin. How do I know? For starters, we drove 4 1/2 hours, just her and I, and she entertained herself FOR THE WHOLE TRIP. And, no, I do not have a DVD player in my car, nor will I ever get one, thanks for asking. (Don't ask me my opinion on car DVD players for kids because I will tell you they are EVIL EVIL EVIL and then we will get in to a big fight and probably will not be very good friends anymore. And since I would rather be your friend than not, let's just forget about the whole thing, okay? Also, don't get me started on not vaccinating your child. Because that will also cause me to be become irate and remember, I value your friendship.)

Anyway, Hazel knows. I know. It's an awesome place. This year, both of my parents came for the three days we were there and it was like BAM, more people to adore/love on/take care of Hazel, which increased my relaxation quotient by about 5000.

We spent an inordinate amount of time throwing rocks in the river. I do not think I can convey to you how much Hazel loved this activity and how aggravated she became if Oh My God, a rock was stuck in the sand and she could not pry it out. We both ended up covered in mud, but also less Vitamin D deficient and a lot more at peace with the world.

You know what else makes me more at peace with the world? Shooting guns with my dad. My dad owns an arsenal of weapons and as I become more proficient at this whole gun thing, I am getting quite envious of his collection. My little Walthur P22 pales in comparison to the guns I shot with Dad. Another item of note? Wow, do I need some target practice. I am pretty sure that were you to attack me, I would have to wait until you were 1.2 feet away before I could shoot you in a mortal location on your body. Not that I plan to shoot you, nor do you plan to attack me. It's merely a saying, I promise.

Of course, we returned to the river for more rock-throwing fun. Over and over and over...

In addition to shooting, throwing rocks, visiting the playground and watching innumerable episodes of Big Love with my parents, I did manage to get on my bike for an easy spin with Dad. After ski patrol on Saturday and then sitting in the car for 4 1/2 hours on Sunday, my legs were completely shot. They hated me. I think they were getting revenge for switching over to T1 telemark boots. (I am not making this up. T1s are exponentially stiffer, taller, and more forward-leaning than T2s. They will make you a better skier, but you will never be permitted to rest your quads. Ever.) On Sunday night, I was taking the stairs sideways- THAT'S how bad I was hurting.

Yes, I am a big wuss. And, yes, I am well aware of this fact.

So the spin with Dad was perfect. The sky was blue, the air was warm, the wind was light and the cows came out to play. We even had several packs of dogs to help our interval workouts along. Wow, do I love it out there. I also love hanging with my dad. It was, as the French say, le perfecte. (Advance warning to all OCD commenters, yes, I know that the French do not say that way. Thanks for telling me though.)

That's what I did until Tuesday. I *almost* wanted to just stay there and skip our Whistler trip altogether, but then I slapped myself upside the head, packed The Hizz and I up and headed west over the mountains.

God bless whoever came up with the idea of spring break.


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