Montana Adventures!

So i got way too many wonderful gifts on christmas. Stained glass tools, my dad's old camera and its related equipment, books, cds, just wonderful stuff. My mom over-tinseled her side of the tree, which probably drove my sister crazy because she hates tinsel in the first place.

It snowed all day long, truly a "white christmas". i took Nat cross-country skiing at the little place just down the road from our house, which is a golf course during the summer. We fell on the first little downhill, and Nat broke (bent, i should say) his ski pole trying to stop. i myself face-planted into a snowbank, but laughed the whole time. We tried to bend the pole back, but to no avail. He skied the rest of the course with it bent, and we paid the $10 replacement fee after about 3 hours of schussing around, taking turns on and off the pre-made ski tracks.

We tracked deer through the cemetery, following their cloven hoof-prints and finding fresh droppings (so exciting!), in spite of the falling snow. i looked left, and right, but it (or they) was long gone. The Stillwater River, which runs through town, froze, melted, and then re-froze, confusing the lingering flocks of ducks who were living there.

We drove Nat up to Big Mountain to check out snowboarding info, and he ended up dragging my sister along. They were up there for a good 6 hours, falling on their butts every step of the way, but having a gay old time. Nat is quite hooked now, i fear, and living in San Diego with no car does not exactly help matters. Big Bear is a mere 2 hours away, but we have to get there first. We've definitely created a monster.

We watched icicles slowly form off the eaves above the back porch, where we smoked many many last cigarettes. i made a so-so apple pie, and my mom made her famous fruitcake. (No really, it gets eaten.) Met the sister's boyfriend, who welcomed us the first morning we were there with eggs and huckleberry pancakes. It was heaven. He even made us breakfast on our last day there, which was a nice bookend to the trip.

We drank lots of coffee, slept in almost every day, and romped in the snow. Nat and i made snow angels our second day there, which were promptly filled in by the falling flakes. He was mesmerized on our walk to the cemetery by the tiny six-sided delicate wonders that were landing on his gloves. Actual snowflakes! We mused on how many, many flakes had to fall to create such a thick, powdery blanket. Snowmen were basically impossible due to the fluffy nature of the snow... in Vegas it was a cinch because it just stuck right to itself when you rolled it. Nat did, however, hit me with such a rock-hard snowball that it left a bruise on my thigh.

He also tried to make a snow-trapezoid, and broke a large icicle off the roof, which i dubbed a unicorn horn, and stuck it sticking straight up on the snow-covered boulder in the front yard. He learned how to chop wood, and i re-learned. Mostly i focused on the kindling, which was always more fun for me anyway. My brother split the logs with seemingly no effort, and my mother let out a war whoop to assist in splitting hers. Crackling fires inside the house, upstairs and down.

On Christmas day, my sister had to go to her old work location and clean for two hours, which i thought was just ridiculous, so i offered to help. We arrived around 5 p.m., just as it was getting dark outside. Once inside the coffee shop, i swept floor mats, rolled them up and hoisted them up on top of upended chairs. She swept the expansive floor with a giant push-broom, and i followed behind with a mop and a giant tub of hot vinegar-water, which was black by the time i was through. We were exhausted at 7:00, and decided to take the trash bags in the back of her truck to the dump, which turned out to be a bad idea. Around 7:30 or so, on our way home from tossing the trash, we ran out of gas on the dark and snowy highway. On an incline. The weird thing was, i could have sworn i predicted it, that her truck was low on gas. And so we slid slowly backwards, five, ten, twenty feet. It was nightmarish, but luckily no one passed us on the road because she didn't have her license and we were worried about highway patrol. Thankfully the truck started again, and we put-putted our way up the hill, with the truck basically dying again, but this time as we pulled into someone's well-placed driveway. She ran inside to ask them if they had any gas, but ended up calling home instead, since they were all waiting on us with dinner. What a night! My mom had to put everything on hold and take the gas can down the road, fill it up, and then find us on the side of the road in the other direction. Needless to say, we were extremely happy to get home safely.

It was hard to say goodbye to my dad and my sister, leaving them up there in the snowy North. It is tricky not to feel guilt when one family member sacrifices so much to take care of the parent who has suffered a debilitating health problem... i know it is hard for her up there, and for him. They aren't necessarily the best of friends, and she hates her job. He is sort of stuck all day in the sunken, basement-like living room downstairs, but at least he has the dog, who loves him. i am so glad i got to see everybody in one house, under one roof just like the old days. i think we are a bit more grown up, now, which led to less fighting overall. But the hackles still get raised, the buttons are there, waiting to be pushed. At the end of the day, though, i'd like to think that we all truly love one another. And actually, that i know. Here's to that love remaining until the next time.

The winds of change.

This has been one heck of a blustery day. Gusty, gusty... wind chimes i didn't even know existed are ringing out excitedly on balconies everywhere. The wind blowing through the screens on our windows makes a high-pitched howling sound, eerie to be sure. The curtains billow, the trees rustle and shake and molt their old leaves out into the air, gone forever. It's definitely starting to feel like winter, as much as it can down here in Southern California, anyway.

And we do what we can to bring it on home: i've gotta say, there's nothing like the smell of evergreens to bring you to a much happier place. When you live in an apartment in San Diego, surrounded by not much besides palm trees, succulents, and birds of paradise, a little indoor "outdoor" smell is one of the best things there is.

We did the same thing last year: went and bought (at Von's, ::cringe::) a few boughs of the fine-smelling stuff; fir, pine, cedar, spruce. Nat was remembering christmases growing up at his house in Gardena, when his mother would have candles lit and fresh greens strewn about the house. i thought it sounded like a fine and dandy idea, and it was. Our apartment smelled like a piquant wood somewhere far, far away. it was heavenly, and by that i mean, um, earthly.

The irony this year is that in about one week we will actually be traveling to a great source of never-ending woodliness: Montana.

Yep, i'm finally taking Nat up to the North. A little town named Whitefish, which is where i was born. Sadly, the hospital has been torn down by now, as well as the adorable trailer park that was right next door to it. We used to love looking for it as we approached town on Highway 93. ::sniff!:: Ah, memories of times gone by.

Anyway! So, yeeeaaahhh. (in Eddie Izzard voice.) Where was i? Oh yes- the forest. Yes, it will be all around us. My sister is cutting down a tree for us to decorate, and it should be, well, interesting to have the whole family in one place. Especially considering the mire of baggage and bad blood and dysfunction that threatens to suck us down into it if we're not careful. Let's just say that more than one of us (not me) has a rather short fuse. Poor Nat; if he makes it out alive he'll have quite a story to tell, of Christmas '08. Snowed in and snowed under.

But at least there are trees up there, damnit, and i mean great big, sweet-smelling baddies. i can't really wait, i guess. Does that mean i'm excited? To see my over-worked and over-stressed big sister? My ailing father, whose (doubtful) progress of recovering from his (bad) stroke two years ago will surely be measured when i walk through the door? The fur that will fly when my brother and sister start to go at it, opening up old wounds?

Yes, it will be just like old times... but one has to be positive, right? So i will look forward to the good things i remember: making coffee in the morning in the kitchen upstairs, watching the tiny ice particles fall from the snowy tree branches, like a shower of glitter in the morning sunlight. Seeing deer nibble away at the sparse bushes in the backyard. Grabbing the binoculars and watching the intrepid skiers schuss their way down Big Mountain, only 3 miles away. Taking a walk up our little road and seeing wild flocks of pheasant, grouse. The way the milk just tastes better up there.

Yeah, here's hopin' for the best.

In other news: saw a "T" today, in the tiny, tattered remnant of a plastic shopping bag in the hallway downstairs. Also, i think i finally succeeded in getting a cold to go away simply through the force of sheer will, which is very exciting. ::knock on wood:: And, well, listen to Chopin. i dare you.