Just so our snowed in relations don't disown us completely, I'm posting some pictures taken when Mimi and Grampy came out between Christmas and New Years. We had a cold snap around then and there was a lot of snow up in the San Bernardino mountains. We took a day trip with Mimi and Grampy out to the city of San Bernardino to visit Mimi's aunt who lives there, and while they visited Stacy and I took the squirrelly kids 20 minutes up the mountain and played in the snow. Although I'm sure she doesn't remember it, L had been in the snow in Maine before; for N, I think this was a frozen first.
It was an altogether enjoyable experience, other than making a wrong turn and venturing down a particularly steep, narrow, ice-covered road in a large minivan with no snow tires. After about fifteen minutes of slip-sliding, wheel-whipping, and horizontal shimmying, we managed to extract ourselves from our icy tomb by employing what I have termed the "blast-off" technique: Sink further down the mountain until you can find a sufficiently large patch of ice-free ground, and position yourself at the very end of it, then gun it to get from 0 to 60 in the 10 feet you have (imagine a 747 taking off on a driveway) and pray the momentum takes you far enough up the mountain until you hit another dirt patch. In the jostling moments when you are whizzing over ice between traction spots, stabilize and steer your car through the power of fervent prayer and the cheers of your toddlers.It appears Stacy, in general, disapproves of such methods.
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