But wouldn’t you know it, Mother Nature had other plans. The Winter of 2011, as it turns out, is the winter that just keeps on giving. And giving. We woke up this morning to about 6 inches of snow outside and full winter conditions. It’s still snowing six hours later.

I don’t even feel like skiing anymore. I am ready for hiking and biking and flip-flops and tank tops. Sigh.

Instead, what I decided to do with the extra hours afforded by the delay of the race, is to deal with the aftermath of the avalanche that slammed into our house two months ago. You know how when someone tries to steal your car by breaking the window and the car alarm goes off so they run away, but now you still have a headache on your hands because you have to spend time and money fixing your car? That’s kind of how I feel about the avalanche damage. It’s been one big suck of time and money.

Today, it’s sucking time. And water. We had six years worth of Child #1 and Child #2′s old clothes in garbage bags in the garage, waiting to pass down the girl’s clothes to Child #3 and give away or sell the boy’s clothes. All were completely buried under 6 feet of snow in the avalanche. I have been procrastinating for 2 months, but finally, out of pure concern that Child #3 would only have moldy clothes in her future, I started bringing in the bags of clothes and dumping them out on our living room floor. That’s a lot of clothes.

I also discovered that a varmit or two was having a field day in some of the bags, pooping and munching to their hearts’ content. It was like a bunch of mice threw a frat party in a bag of pink clothes, and the aftermath isn’t pretty. Little teeny poops everywhere. Jackets with holes in it. Pure joy for me.

The loads of laundry that are in my future are daunting. I debated bringing everything to a laundry mat, but that could just be a bigger headache, what with having to find $100 worth of quarters. Not to mention hanging out in a laundry mat for a day with creepy people. Why are there always creepy people at a laundry mat? One time when I was living in Washington, DC, I watched a homeless guy take a piss in the corner of a laundry mat while I was washing my clothes. I didn’t come out of there feeling very clean.

I’m thinking I might bring a bag of wet clothes with us when we watch the peloton race by. I’ll hang all the clothes on a wire, and the pure speed of the cyclists whizzing by will dry them. Or maybe that’s just as much wishful thinking as the hope that winter will one day stop giving.

Moldy tennis shoe, anyone?

What I learned over this 4th of July weekend:

1. I am not a boater. Something about being trapped on a 20-foot floating piece of machinery in the middle of a lake does not sit well with me.

2. Falling off your bike hurts when you are a kid, but when you are 37 it hurts like a mother-fucker.

3. Watching fireworks explode over a huge lake with an almost-full moon: awesome. Watching said fireworks with your kids: more awesome.Watching the expression on your kids’ faces as they watch the fireworks: priceless.

4. A two-year old cannot sit through an entire movie, even when bribed with a pack of Red Vines.

5. For an almost 5-year old boy, it doesn’t get much better than digging in the sand at the beach and actually finding a buried treasure, even if it’s a monster truck and not pirate gold.

6. Siig can drink more Coronas than a fraternity on spring break in Mexico.

7. Jumping on a trampoline with no bra is no bueno.

8. Tourists do not know how to drive.

9. People-watching is at an all time high during the holidays.

10. Kids can go a week without a bath and be just fine.

Yeah, it sucked, to say the least.

I’ve been in a foul mood ever since. On Father’s Day. Poor Siigo. So I am writing this blog in an attempt to distract myself from my misery and make myself feel better. Not sure if it’s working.

As a present to Siig on Father’s Day, I took the kids out of the house to let him partake in his favorite relaxation past-time – sitting on the couch and watching sports on TV. So me and the kids went to the stables at the bottom of the hill for the pony rides. This involves me paying $5 per kid and leading a pony that likes to stop every minute to take a giant green crap or pee a waterfall or eat mules-ears, and not listen to me begging him to keep going. Yeah, fun. But the kids love it.

Kaiden’s ride went without incident, except for the usual pit-stops. Then it was Kaya’s turn on Mac. Mac was obviously pissed at me for yelling at him to “Giddy-up” and “Let’s go you mangy beast,” so in return for my impatience at his leisurely pace with Kaiden, he stepped on me.

Let me tell you, it’s quite shocking to see a 700-pound animal standing on your sandaled-foot, not to mention that it frickin’ hurt. I literally had to push Mac off me, which wasn’t easy. Then, after making sure my foot wasn’t broken, I cried. Through my tears, I glanced at my children to see what their reaction was at seeing their mother break down. True to gender stereotype, Kaiden seemed indifferent while Kaya seemed mildly concerned.

Ahhh, the joys of parenting. I guess the old adage is true: No pain, no gain. I gained a horse-shoe imprint on my right foot and the knowledge that wearing sandals while leading your kid on a pony ride is dumb. Siig got two hours of alone time. My kids got to see their mother cry.

The real winner in all this? Definitely Mac, who’s probably still laughing in his hey. Bastard.

There. Now I feel better.

Every day since I have lived in our house – which would be about five years – I have driven by this beautiful meadow and never stopped. Well, I couldn’t take it anymore. Right now, the meadow is absolutely amazing, what with all the wildflowers blooming and the creek in full stream from the snow melt. So one day this week, I decided that was it – we were going to go explore the meadow. Me and the kids. Our first real nature hike.

It didn’t take too much arm-twisting on my end since I told Kaiden and Kaya they could pick flowers. They liked that idea – of being free to pick flowers and not get yelled at like they usually do after grabbing flowers out of someone’s garden or a store’s flower boxes. Immediately, Kaiden declared himself the leader of the hike, which will come as no surprise to anyone who knows Kaiden since, along with being a self-declared vegetarian, he is also a self-declared Leader (in case you are wondering, he is a Leo). If I got out in front of him on the trail, he would yell at me. Clearly the sign of good leadership.

Our fearless leader

Despite the beauty of the scenery and the optimal Kodak moments, Kaiden would not pose for a photo for me, being the self-declared Stubborn Child that he is. And, of course, since he was the leader, his younger sister followed suit and also refused to let me take a photo of her, which is normally a favorite past time of hers, being the self-declared Movie Star that she is. Nevertheless, I managed to slyly snap a few covert photos. (I did almost work at the CIA, after all.) 

Stubborn One refusing to pose

Secret Agent Mommy nabs a photo

 As we were heading back, Kaiden said, “Now which way is it to our car?”

In hindsight, I realized this was a rhetorical question, but at the time I made the grave mistake of telling our Dear Leader the answer to his question (maybe I should start calling him Kim Jong-Il). I was immediately put back in my place of Lowly Follower.

“No, Mommy! Don’t tell me!” he said. “I want to think.”

And I thought to myself, “Oh good. Because I am so done with thinking.”

What a relief to know I don’t have to think anymore.

I have an almost-5 year old who wants to do it for me. After 30-some years of thinking, I have been relieved of the job. What a load off my back. I’m starting to thinking living in a dictatorship has its pluses, after all.

In case you are wondering, this means that Kaiden will be writing all future posts. He just has to learn to read first.

Follow the Leader

It may be ironic, or just timely, but after writing about how hard it was for me to do nothing yesterday, I think I actually achieved it today! And all by accident.

Last week, I was asked by fellow yogi and photographer, David Renaud, to be part of a series of profiles he is taking of people doing yoga. He has shot most of the yoga teachers in Tahoe, and I was flattered he asked me. His goal is to snap pictures of at least 100 people, and I was to be number 25. Sounded lucky. All of his photos are taken outdoors with some part of Tahoe as the background. I suggested we shoot in Shirley Canyon in Squaw Valley, where I knew the many waterfalls would be in full bloom with the spring snow melt.

Well, Shirley Canyon was absolutely stunning. We arrived around 10 a.m. and did a short hike in to find a good spot for shooting. We could hear the creek and waterfalls before we even saw them. When we finally stopped to set up, the creek was roaring so load we couldn’t hear each other if we were more than a few feet away. I stood on some granite boulders with a large waterfall behind me. The scene is so picturesque and perfect in Shirley Canyon that it almost looks fake, like a ride at Disneyland: clear mountain water pouring over fallen logs and huge rocks, some waterfalls ending in calm pools, others churning into gushing rapids. You almost have to knock on the boulders to make sure they’re not constructed out of paper mache.

I have heard a lot about photo shoots from Siig, whose passion is filming. He’s told me that a huge part of it is sitting around while the photographer finds the right angle, the right light, the right moment. Well, he was right. But you know what? I absolutely enjoyed it. I found myself standing on a boulder with the warm sun on my face, staring at the beautiful snow-covered mountains of Squaw Valley, listening to the deafening plunge of the waterfall behind me. Sometimes I would hold a pose while David shot, other times I just waited. But it didn’t matter. It was so beautiful and calming and relaxing.

And then I had a realization – at moments, I was doing nothing. Just standing in nature, being still. And that was enough. It reminded me of a saying I have pinned to my bulletin board: “What you are doing is the most beautiful thing.” Maybe I should look at that more often.

Lately, Kaiden has been asking me what the Cheeseburger Bird looks like. I realized I have no idea because I only ever hear the bird, not see it. So, on the off-chance that someone else from Tahoe had posted something about the Cheeseburger Bird on-line, I decided to Google it. Wow! In a sign that yes, everything under the sun can be found by Googling, I not only discovered a YouTube video featuring the bird, but also a poem devoted to the feathered creature and its real name, Mountain Chickadee. I guess the Cheeseburger Bird is not a Tahoe-only phenomenon as I had thought, but can be found everywhere in the Sierra Nevada. It came as a bit of a surprise to me that the Cheeseburger Bird is so well known. In fact, Northstar-at-Tahoe ski resort discusses it on their web page.

As my friend Bree pointed out, the Cheeseburger Bird is the sound of Tahoe in summer. But personally, I would much prefer to hear the Chocolate Bird’s song. It would go someting like this: “eat choc-o-late, eat choc-o-late.”

    YouTube – Cheeseburger Bird.

Siigo Skating Talmont

I think this photo captures Siigo completely and the free spirit that he is. This is at the top of one of the steepest streeets in Tahoe, Talmont, where Siig lived in a total bachelor pad when I met him eight years ago. He used to love to skate Talmont, and still does when he gets the chance. Note the bare feet and Coors Light in hand, and the beautiful view. Can’t beat that.

We drove behind Siig while he skated down. Kaiden wanted me to hit him and watch him fly in the air, but I thought better of it.

Kaiden's portrait of his dad

Me and the kids

Kaiden - minus the red cape and goggles - riding Mac last year.

Besides the melting of snow and my husband disappearing into landscaping season, for us there are two things that signal that summer has arrived in Tahoe: the return of the horses and the farmers’ market. The Alpine Meadows Stables sits at the beginning of our road, and the horses serve as a barometer of the weather and the seasons. In the fall when they leave, we know winter is on its way; when they re-appear in the spring, we know the cold is over and the joys of summer are about to begin.

Over the last few weeks, the kids and I have been anxiously awaiting the horses’ return and all that it symbolizes. Every day we would drive past the stables and look for signs of thawing and indications that the cowboys were preparing to bring the horses up from their winter pastures in the foothills. About three weeks ago, we got excited. The stables were free of snow; the recent rain and warm weather had melted it all, sending it into Bear Creek. Then, about a week later, we let out a yelp as we drove by – there were trucks and horse trailers there. For the next few weeks, we competed against each other to see who would be the first to spot a horse, but the horse trailers were empty. Time passed as we watched the cowboys’ progress preparing the stables, clearing the mud and fallen trees, setting up the fences.

Finally, about three or four days ago, we drove by and voila! – five horses. The kids started yelling the names of their favorite horses – Mac and Merrylegs. Everyday, a few more horses arrived until now there are more than 20. As soon as the cowboys put up their sign, we are going in to feed the horses carrots and let the kids go for a ride. For the little ones, the parents guide the children on horseback through a small loop around the stables. For $5, you can’t beat it.

The first time Kaiden rode a pony, he was 2 years old. It was totally unplanned. He had just found his ski goggles and was in his bright red cape-wearing phase and was sporting his green Crocks. I’ll never forget him on that horse, wearing yellow goggles, a red cape, no shirt and green shoes. Quite the Kodak moment, but of course I didn’t have my camera with me.

Besides the horses’ arrival, the Foothill Farmers’ Market also starts this week. We love going there to buy fresh fruit and veggies, especially blueberries which go like hot cakes, and socialize. But the real reason we go is the Balloon Guy. Oskar the Balloon Guy is the hot attraction for the kids. He is like the Pied Piper and at any given time during the day is usually surrounded by at least 10 kids and their moms who encircle him with strollers and bags of produce. Most kids ask for the usual balloon characters – a dog, a cat, etc. But no, not Kaiden. Last year he completely stumped Oskar by asking him to make a skeleton. But Oskar hung in there and used a bunch of white balloons to make something that – to the eyes of a 3-year old – looked like a skeleton. Kaiden was a satisfied customer.

This year, Kaiden has informed me he wants Oskar to make him Batman, and Kaya wants a Barbie. Hmmm, I think Oskar has his work cut out for him.

Kaya on Mac last year

Avalanche Aftermath

 When we bought our house back in 2004, it was one of the cheapest ones left in the valley we live in. One reason: it’s in an avalanche path. I guess it was only a matter of time before we actually got hit. Until this past Christmas Day, we’d been lucky. We went four winters without a slide hitting our house. Then on the morning of Dec. 25 we were boarding a plane for Mexico when Siig got a call from ski patrol – a controlled avalanche had plowed right into our garage. Nice Christams present, huh?

This is when I discovered the real power of Facebook. As soon as we landed (and after downing multiple Coronas), with no cell service, we put out a plea for help on Facebook asking friends to please stop by our house and check out the damage. A few friends took photos and sent them to us, others boarded up the garage (and got a bottle of premium tequila as a thank you). In actuallity, I was more worried about our cats than our garage. Our neighbors who were feeding them not only could not reach the front door because of all the snow, but they couldn’t get to the planters where the key was hidden. I feared coming home to starved, frozen kitties. Fortunately, on the third or fourth day after the avalanche, the driveway finally got plowed and our friends got in. Kitties saved.

I was also worried about having to fork out thousands of dollars for a new garage door. But surprisingly, the avalanche had only pushed the garage door in and off its tracks, but not broken it. Cost us about $350 to repair. The front door had also been pushed in, but Siig was able to fix it by sledge-hammering it back into place. The same could not be said about Siig’s trucks, one of which was declared a total loss. It got pushed up against a fire hydrant, which left a nice dent in the side, and the camper shell was completely flattened. But the insurance money sure came in handy.