Sunday, September 14, 2008

February 1990 - Brianhead

In February of 1990 the gang all converged to go skiing at Brianhead. By now the kids who were 8 and 6 were getting pretty good at skiing. They just whizzed down the hills, often leaving their slow mom at the top. They were even getting themselves onto the lifts by now. Here is a picture of me on the ground and my mom-in-law about to go onto the ground.

This was the first year that we didn't have clear sailing all the way up the mountain. We spent the night in Las Vegas, like we often did. The next day we headed toward Brianhead, stopping in Cedar City for groceries. There was no where to buy groceries in Brianhead. You could find a little convenience store with milk etc., but that was priced like gold. We would all stop in Cedar City and pile the groceries into coolers and any other available space we could find in our cars. This year, our son decided to ride with his aunt and uncle after we bought groceries. The weather wasn't very good. It was lightly snowing. There had been snow on the road since we had left Vegas. When we got to Parawan (the town that you turn off at to head up the mountain) the road conditions had really changed. It was snowing hard and the road up to the resort wasn't plowed. We were stuck in Parawan. If you have ever been to Parawan you will understand that there isn't much there. We found a little diner and went inside to wait for the snow plows. I'm not sure how long we sat in there, probably not as long as it felt like. Finally, a snow plow started up the hill and our caravan closely followed. Even with chains, we were slipping and sliding on some of the tight turns. I remember wishing my son was in the same car. We finally made it safely and a fun week of skiing began.

I think this is the year that my sister-in-law brought the 'plastic hand/forearm.' We were staying in two different condos again. One night, she and I took the hand and buried it so that it was sticking up out of the snow. We did this somewhere along the path between our two condos. There was a picnic bench, barely recognizable under all of the snow. We put it there. Then we went into the other condo and pulled our husband's aside (one a cop, the other a paramedic/firefighter) and told them that we thought we found someone buried in the snow. They went into "work" mode and rushed to the scene to do what they do best. As they approached, we had to stay behind them because we were trying so hard not to laugh. They walked toward this hand very slowly, bent down, accessed the situation and just when we thought they were going to start frantically digging the victim out, one of them says, "Wait a minute, this thing isn't real" and pulls the hand out of the snow. We laughed hysterically, because really, we did get them. We saw them start to fall hook, line and sinker! Good times.

This is also the year that my husband tried to kill my two children, with me watching. We had snow saucers that the kids used to slide down the hills on. One day we all went over by one of the lifts after skiing had ended for the day. We hiked up the hill and both of my kids got on the saucer together. My hubby pushed them off and they took off down the hill at a pretty rapid rate of speed. The only problem was that those saucers don't have steering wheels or brakes or seat belts and they weren't wearing helmets. My husband had started them off too close to the ski lift poles. They were headed right toward a pole at the bottom of the hill. They were screaming, I was screaming, hubby was screaming for them to "bail." Of course they didn't. They ran into the pole. I have never seen my Hubby fun faster, before or since. They were fine. Scared, but fine. I think that this might be the part where the mom in me went ballistic and let Hubby have it for not thinking that one through, but it does make for a good blog 18 years later.

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful, as I remember. As always, a good time was had by all. Total cost for a week of skiing....$615.00.

Next vacation is a long weekend getaway to Palm Springs.

1 comment:

Jon said...

That hand is scary when you're a kid and your older sister tortures you with it in the dark at your Aunt/Uncle's condo. And, for the record, ski lift support poles hurt.