Thursday, March 24, 2011
The snow was not just up to the front door, it was up past the patio door. On the deck. On the second floor. (this was before another 4 feet of snow fell.)
On the right the sign reads "Road Narrows"... uh, in front of me there is a wall of snow 8 feet high. That's not narrow, that's CLOSED.
I hopped out and took a quick picture of myself in front of the frozen lake. When I grabbed my camera to see if the picture worked, the camera wouldn't display the photo and wouldn't retract the lens. I had to get back into the warm car to make it work. I was outside for maybe, uh, 5 minutes. Oh, I think I should have worn a warmer outfit as well. (But I did look good!)
The snow bunnies bravely went back out on Saturday. By lunch, they were down to two out of three. I rode the gondola up to the main lodge to meet Lyle and Todd for lunch. The gondola ride was better than Disneyland. It was windy and we were SWINGING!
About an hour after lunch, Todd and Lyle packed it in. Too cold. Too windy. Luckily, Todd still had lip protection.
(Oh, and if you look up at the photo header at the top, that's a panorama photo I took on Friday of the valley below.)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
I lifted the chair lift picture from Lyle.
It did start to snow last night about 7 pm. And snowed all night. Forecast called for about 4 inches overnight. Another 5-6 inches forecast for Saturday. We leave on Sunday when the forecast is calling for SEVENTEEN inches of snow.
This morning the heated pool has icicles hanging on the edge.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Which meant the food from up top moved over next to the stove, that cookware went low where the empty Tupperware used to live.
Yes, this is how we live.
My one complaint about growing up with my mother, the Tupperware Overlord, is that I am ill equipped as an adult to function in any ziplock capacity. So that's Lyle's department.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
I saw Lola in the hallway Friday night.
I was sending Cooper out for final potty and then to bed. I glanced down the hallway from the back of the house, and there she was, standing up by the dining room. She was perky, wagging her tail and gave me that come hither, “Wanna give me a treat?” look. It was not a ghost. It was her. I didn't freak out. I smiled, raised my eyebrows to greet her and gave he the "1 minute" hold sign with my finger.
I tucked Cooper in and then went back to see her, but she was gone. Oh my god, she was gone. It felt so natural to see her there I forgot she is no longer with us. If I'd thought she would leave so quickly I would have made Cooper wait and ran to hold her in the hallway. She was so real I did have to walk to where she had been to prove she was really gone, again. Then I cried for half an hour before I could go to bed.
I wrote an email to Lyle for him to read in the morning. And he cried before he could even get in the shower.
I told my mom and she said Lola just stopped by to let me know she was okay. I told her that was pretty mean because I feel as if I am going through the whole grief process all over again. And I have been. Very low key, very sad, a lot of crying. I thought I was doing really well moving through my grief for her, but now I think I was just pushing my feeling down until Lyle was better and suddenly it’s my turn.
In telling a few people I notice I have never said, “I thought I saw Lola” or “I had a dream with Lola” it was always “I SAW” her. And I did. And I was so happy to see her, it's made me feel as though I have lost her all over again.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
I don't go out and seek change. But I know I can't avoid it. I am good with rearranging furniture. I can move homes with more ease than most. I like new restaurants. I don't like the unknown. I get nervous at new jobs. I don't like when they make up new rules at security at the airport.
I've discovered the most horrible trying times in my life, are now the moments that define me. I am strong enough to handle this future task because I have already been tested in my past.
So many things around me I can not control. But I can control my response to the elements. That is what I strive for (and fall short of, often).
A few years ago my mom told me that she didn't think people under 40 really understood what it meant to be happy. She explained that before that you just hadn't had enough "bad stuff" happen to realize what the "good stuff" is.
I told her I was glad she hadn't told me that when I was in my thirties because I would have been very annoyed. "Bad stuff" really does give you a whole new perspective of appreciation for "good stuff". I'm not wishing for crappy times, but I sure appreciate simple things in comparison.