Back from Big Sky. In one large piece.

We got back today at 2:30. By the time we pulled in the driveway Quinn was alternately screeching, crying YaYa and wanging Madeleine's headphones against the side of his head while Madeleine was whining and imitating Quinn. Jim was fuming and threatening to twist ears while I was taking pictures of everyone in their various stages of complete meltdown. Okay, I'm not telling the story right. It was a very good trip, but that's not very interesting, is it? You can't open a post after a four-day absence with "I had a nice trip and boy am I tired but happy from my really nice vacation with my nice family."

Here are a couple things that weren't scheduled: it was 30 degrees below zero until noon on Thursday and Friday, why do hotels use those weird polyester blankets that are like fleeced styrofoam and not warm?, a random drunk guy was let into our room in the middle of the night by an obliging bell-hop, is it written somewhere that you can only use hot tubs if you're a swimsuit model because I didn't get that memo?, and why did that boardercross girl try to grab her board when she was 40 yards from a gold medal and then make up some story about trying to stabilize herself? Here's a short summary of all that went well: the snow was perfect, mountains were beautiful, kids were mostly good, the hot tub was hot and wet ("which is nice if you're with a lady, but it ain't no good in the jungle") and steamy enough to hide my pouchy mom butt. I'll put up some pictures tomorrow - I'm trying to limit my time now that Jim's home pacing around with a stopwatch behind me. Metaphorically, at least.

I missed all of you while we were gone. Thanks for the well-wishes... The winner of the funniest 10-year-old crush was teebs with Almanzo from Little House on the Prairie. Because I thought she meant Albert - the one with the fat lip. But on further inspection and googling, TB is in fact correct. Almanzo was a hottie.