She's BAAACK! (again)

La spent Christmas in Florida with her dad this year. He took her to Disney World for two days, and she even rode Thunder Mountain and went through the Haunted Mansion. What a big, brave girl! She flew back home today (all by herself), and I'm just plain tickled to have her back.

She was only gone for four days, but she came home looking older and wiser (maybe it's the trendy new outfit?) and smelling delicious. I asked her what it was that made her smell so divine. "Umm, cranberries" was her answer.

She also picked up a new word, which she uses in somewhat correct context. And that word is "awkward." As in, "Whoa mom, that belt and those shoes together? AWKWARD."

It's good to have the precocious little pipsqueak back.

When in Wisconsin ...

... do as the Wisconsinites do.

I'm not proud of it, as my foolish grin would suggest; but yes, I shot that gun. I was following my brother and dad while they hunted for partridge, and there was this fallen tree, and I just had to shoot at it. I was ENCOURAGED to shoot at it. Is that so bad?

Gosh, I've had a lot of "family time" in Wisconsin over the past 9 days. It's been great.

There was the snowshoeing ...

... the wonderful Christmas dinner in Neillsville ...

... the presents ...

... Uncle Neil ...

... the shot putting bowling ... (look at that form!)

... Grandpa Duane, who is JUST SO DANG CUTE.

... little baby Cohwyn, who might EVEN BE CUTER. (it's a toss up)

... and the snow!

It was a very special Christmas for all of us. I wish it could have lasted another week.

The Ways of The North

Neillsville, Wisconsin. That's where I am today. Home to the world's largest talking cow; home to my grandparents, Cal and Fern; and home to a scant handful of other folks who are brave enough to bear the bitter cold and the lack of a Target. It's small. It's quaint. And it's in the middle of East Jesus Nowhere.

This morning, my dad and I strapped on some snow shoes, grabbed our ski poles, and ventured out into the field behind the house. We were out there for almost an hour, plowing through the Wisconsin underbrush, which eventually led to me picking burrs off of my Michael Kors puffer coat. It was worth it though! The beauty is indescribable.

We followed deer tracks through the field and into the brush. We found a freshly dug cavern in the side of a hill where a bear may or may not have been hibernating. But we didn't see any wildlife other than a squirrel. We also passed two deer shanty hunter thingies. I'm not sure if they were occupied by hunters, but if they were, all they saw meandering past them was a silly girl in a puffer coat and snow shoes, sneezing violently and scaring away their supper. Whoopsies! Glad I didn't get shot at.

When I was a little girl, I would come up here for a week at a time to hang out with grandma and grandpa. Grandpa used to take me into his workshop and help me cut wood, nail it together, and build things. Grandma used to bake cookies with me. We picked berries, fished for bluegill in the canoe, and camped. The memories are fond, but whenever I reminisce about those visits, I am reminded by my grandfather that I was not an easy child to deal with at nighttime. I would sneak out of my room in the middle of the night, creep down the squeaky wooden stairs, and wake my grandparents up, announcing that I was way too freaked out to sleep.

Grandpa Cal was not a fan of those nights. He thought it was utterly silly for a child to be afraid of a bedroom.

Two nights ago, I was reading a book to La in the upstairs "dormitory," where I slept as a child. La looked over at me and said, "Mama? This room is scary." I understood. I looked at her and replied, "this room used to scare me when I was a little girl too. But, you know what? It's not that scary!"

Then I looked around.

This is what I saw.

Hmmm. I'll admit, that closet IS a little bit frightening. And then there's the antlers.

And the knives and the guns, of course.

Maybe it is just a TINY bit scary.

But, it's the way of the Great North Woods. And La just has to get used to it like I did when I was a kid.

La and the bunny hill

Today we skied the world class "Bruce Mound" in Neillsville, Wisconsin. Bruce Mound is a special place for my family. My brother, sister and I all learned to ski there using a good old fashioned rope tow or t-bar to get to the top of the bunny hill. The hill is about five miles from the home where my dad grew up. In fact, my grandfather co-founded the hill waaaay back in 1946. This year, Bruce Mound installed its first chairlift. We're in the big times now!

This was La's third year skiing. I would love to say that she was even better this year, but that would be a lie. She sort of stunk, in fact. But. The child has what I call Hard Headed Determination. She wouldn't let that hill get the best of her. In the end, after about 57 runs, resulting in about 147 wipeouts, she finally got the hang of it.

Here's a taste of what skiing with La is like:



And then there's this:



And then, finally, after what must have been hundreds of spills, it clicked.



She followed that up with four more flawless runs. Six wipeout-free rides down the hill. Then we went home. And now? We're on a rodent hunt INSIDE grandma and grandpa's house. More on that later ... goodnight!

Smartypants

So, my brother? The one that pitches for YSU? The one who used to get twenty bucks from my parents if he came home with straight C's on his report card?

Well. It's time for me to brag a little.

He's one semester from graduating college with a double major, while playing baseball full-time, and he just wrapped up an 18-credit term. Yikes. Big stuff. He just looked at his grades online and WHOA NELLY! He got a 4.0 for the semester. Straight A's. Not too shabby!

Way to go buddy!

Mom and dad, you owe him a Ferrari.

Lyricist

I think there's a child somewhere in that messy room. (I can explain the orange extension cord. It was necessary for the amount of blow-drying going on over the weekend. It has been put away. And by "put away" I mean shoved behind La's nightstand. There ya go.)

La sat in her room last night with an audience of barbies, crafting a song that seemed to be inspired by The Princess and the Frog movie. (and also by my PMS perhaps?) It goes like this:

He Said Something

by La

Then to a frog,

he turned into a man,

like me.

I was a girl.

I was tired.

I was growling.

I was tired of this day,

that I had to fight like him.

Me and you as I,

said goodbye.

He said goodbye.

I was alone.

He said something,

bad to me.

He said something,

bad to me.

I didn't know what he said,

but I said I'm gonna say something back,

to me.

I know. A little disjointed and hard to follow. (Not unlike the music I listened to in high school) But I think it's swell.

Here's some live footage, should you feel the need to hear it for yourself.

The Muh-WAAAH-kee Folks

This weekend some of our relatives from my mom's side of the family came down from Milwaukee for a visit. There was one grandma, two aunts, and two cousins. There's a very strong family resemblance between us all. This is mainly because none of us have lips. (Except for Aunt M, who takes after my dad's side.)

We shopped, we ate, and we drank. We had a darn good time.

Here we are on the train, making our way down to Christkindlmarket for some bratwursts and glühwein.

My adorable grandma Lois thought the train was pretty nifty.

And this thin-lipped cutie agreed.

After the market, we shopped until we couldn't stand up any longer. I was delirious by the time we left Macy's. I think we were in that godforsaken store for seven days. I lost track.

La was such a trooper that day and all weekend, really. She was so good that I took her to her favorite section of the store ...

This morning we wrapped up the weekend at the best breakfast place on Earth, Ann Sather.

Here are my beautiful cousins, Jessica and Brenda. Those smiles are the direct result of some warm, ooey-gooey cinnamon buns.

And then there was this.

That's right. Smoked Salmon Benedict. It's all a blur after that.

What a weekend. I'm feeling an 8:30 bedtime coming on.

Frigid.

One degree. You heard me. One. That's one more than ZERO. These temps of late do not thrill La.

No.

Not one bit.

Please! Don't make me do it!!! I will surely perish!

But, still, I made her. I'm so cruel.

Who the ...? What the ...? Why the ...?

Grrr.

Listen, lady. If you don't get that camera out of my face, SO HELP ME I WILL GLARE AT YOU WITH MY ANGRY BROWS.

La, I hate to break it to ya. But you're in for a very long, very cold four months. Bundle up, my dear.

Grandpa's Handiwork

It snowed today. It was the wet, gloppy snow that sticks together and makes flakes as big as silver dollars that splat onto the sidewalk. It looked all sparkly and Christmasy and wonderful.

Speaking of Christmas. Last night when we got home, La had a package from my parents waiting by the mailbox. You should have seen her face. Nothing is better than getting a package from your grandparents in the mail.

When she opened it she found three pairs of knit gloves, a pretend cell phone, and a miniature wooden "stable" for the little porcelain nativity set my mom passed down to her a few weeks ago.

My dad made the stable himself. Precious, right?

Even if it looks like a birdhouse.

Look at that headroom! What other grandpa would think to work cathedral ceilings into the design?

The stain on the wood made for a very dark stable, and La was worried that baby Jesus would be afraid of the dark, so I pried off one of my battery operated under-cabinet lights and stuck it up inside the roof of the birdhouse stable. And voila! Instantaneous Star of Wonder Star of Light!

La thinks it's absolutely perfect.

Not Your Average Monday

Today was a big day for us.

Well, firstly, it snowed last night. Yes, we woke up to a lush blanket of frozen white bliss. (which is a joyous sight today, but come March will be darn inconvenient and just plain irritating.)

Let it SNOW!

This afternoon, I got a call from the director of La's after school program. She said that La had tripped over her boots and fallen on the stage during drama club, suffering a slight smash to the noggin. By the time I got there, the goose egg was sticking out a few millimeters on her forehead, and it was already purple. HOT!

As we walked out of the school, I decided it would be a good idea to ask her some basic questions to see if there were any signs of concussion. It went like this:

Me: What's your name?

La: Um. I dunno.

Me: Look at me. I'm only asking what your name is. YOUR. NAME.

*crickets*

Me: It's easy, child. Just tell me your name.

La: Is this a trick?

Me: No. Just tell me what your name is.

La: Ummmm ...

Me: Okay, never mind. Where do you live?

La: CHICAGO!

Me: Yeah, good! But what street?

La: Ummmm .... Hmmm. I don't know.

Me: Okay. Well. When is your birthday?

La: March fifteenth!

Me: Actually, it's the sixteenth, but close enough! You're fine!

(Just a tad on the ditzy side.)

And then we walked over to La's best friend J's house for a very delicious dinner of roasted salmon, whipped potatoes, and arugula salad. J's mama sure can cook! And those girls sure can mess a very tidy apartment right up, lickety-split!

It was a lovely evening. Thanks M and J for having us! Next time, we'll trash my place.

Boots

La has worn a toddler's size 9 shoe for about two years now. But suddenly, this week (specifically Friday), her feet decided to grow. Friday morning we cycled through four pairs of shoes before we finally decided on her hot pink riding boots that seemed to "fit." But even those didn't really fit. It took seeing La walk down the stairs and out the door with all the fluidity and grace of Herman Munster before I realized that they, too, were too small.

When we went back upstairs for new shoes, we noticed that La only has two pairs of shoes that fit. And, being that La is such a fashionable girl, well, that's just WRONG.

So, I stopped at Marshalls yesterday and got her some new brown riding boots and a pair of flats.

Here are the generously-sized boots:

I love the way she paired them with the Princess and the Frog gown. Smashing. Hopefully they'll last her until she's seven.

Bangs!

Don't know if I love 'em, but I've got 'em. And knowing the rate of my hair growth, they're here to stay for at least four years.

Cuckoo Birds

Over the weekend while my family was still in town, La's friend J came over to play. The two gals kicked off their time together by snuggling up and watching A Mickey Mouse Christmas.

Then we were off to the zoo!

Ah, the zoo. We haven't been in months, which is silly because it's right down the street and it's free.

Those two little monkeys had a blast, especially when they got to play with the otter.

Look! I snapped a shot of J and the otter making the same face! Completely accidental and totally awesome.

I adore the picture below. You can see J cracking up in the reflection on the glass. Those girls are WILD!

So wild, in fact, that they caused a pretty horrifying "situation" to occur. That sweet little otter chased those two rascals as they ran back and forth, back and forth in front of his glass so many times ... that he climbed out of the water onto a boulder and up-chucked all over the place. Poor fella.

We took that as our cue to get the heck out of the otter house.

And then there was the drama with the sculpture right below. I took this photo not three nanoseconds before La slipped and smashed her head on this concrete contraption. Serves her right for making an otter barf, I guess.

But, then there were hugs from giant zoo animals, and that made her boo-boo all better.

Hopefully that lion paid a visit to our poor friend, the otter.