Things apparently don’t change much from generation to generation. Reading Quintin’s post reminded me of the days all us cousins used to pile into Ted or Pixley’s car and head up to the mountain for a Saturday of skiing. I’m going to have to take some credit though for Quint’s kid-wrangling abilities on the slopes. Believe me; the guy had plenty of practice with me. One time (up at Jay I think), I took a digger off the chairlift as he and I got on. Being the good cousin he is, Quint leapt off the chair from about 15 feet in the air so as to not leave me behind. His mother was probably doing a double take as she stood in line watching her 9 year old son jettisoning himself from a perfectly good chair. But, in a sign of things to come, Quint of course nailed the landing (probably worthy of a 9.5 in Vancouver) and skied back to drag his cousin out of the way before I could get noggin-ed by a stray lift chair.
Maybe THAT-- my apparent aversion to chairlifts--is why I now find myself spending the winters sans snow in sunny SoCal and not in beautiful NoVer. Whatever the reason, each spring I can’t wait to get back for the summers in Highgate. There’s nothing like leaving Los Angeles traffic and its insane number of people and setting up camp at the TP for the summer. I park the car, bust out the bicycle and pretty much forget what it’s like to drive (save for a ski boat maybe) for the next 4 months. Add to that the fact I get to hang out with family and all the fun guests and life doesn’t get much better than that.
See you all Saturday at 5:30 for the cocktail party. Put your drink orders in now…I’ll have ‘em mixed, chilled and ready for the start of a great week…
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