A week of skiing -- a first for our family -- and we have returned to our regular station. Sigh. Happy to be home. Fun to rent a creaky old house and explore all the nooks and crannys unfettered. I liked sitting by the fire and discussing (well, if you're talking mostly to yourself, is it discussing?) what I would do with said house if it were mine. Funny selection of books on the dark built-ins flanking the fireplace, ranging from the bright, shiny "Woof: The Gay Man's Guide to Dogs" to a yellow, stocky paperback called "The Making of a Quagmire: America and Vietnam during the Kennedy Era" by David Halberstam. The older boys really did become skiers, which was one of our goals, and I didn't break anything, which was one of mine. Not sure when I became such a chicken, but I am, so there you go.
Ah, to be fearless.
4 comments:
hi. welcome back home. i just loved this post. i could hear you saying all this. well, if i knew what you sounded like.
Looks like you had a great time. We can't wait to go! It's a surprise for our boys!
the house sounds (and looks) wonderful, and yes, i do hope conversations with ourselves count. otherwise I am one continuous stream of merely mental dialog.
That sounds like so much fun! Well, at least the cozy cottage and the fireplace and the random books. I used to ski...but I have become quite a chicken as well! So glad you had a nice time!
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