Wednesday, March 16, 2016
So, what to do on a day when you are horrified by politics in your home country (oh, all right, one comment: exactly how do you not let your president do his job because he is nine months from not having that job? I don't get it--no I don't want comments on this part) and nauseous from the St. Patty's day mini-cupcakes you stress-gobbled while reading that Brazil's former president who was arrested last week, popped out like ping-pong ball covered in grease, and now has been named a minister three days after millions of people protested him, the government, the sitting president?
Well, in the absence of a margarita and the simple fact that you hate tequila anyway, you write a frivolous blog about your daily life in a lunatic country that grows more glaringly louco every day. Note to self: file for third nationality--how do the Dutch feel about someone who left their country two hundred years ago? Wait, no, I'm not that old... the descendant of someone who left Friesland during a plague in 1860? We have a plague here. So asylum in Amsterdam, here I come.
Here it is: frivolous blog. Car magnets. NO, seriously, I need to talk about car magnets. I love them. I have five of them between two cars and I admit it's getting a little busy on the back bumper of the hooptie, my beloved 13 year old sedan. But I refuse to choose.
There are no car magnets in Brazil. Why? I don't know. Maybe they would be stolen. Maybe no one cares enough about their club team, summer home, college, national park or private school. Or maybe they don't want to show that they have the above because maybe they would get bonked over the head for it. Or maybe they don't feel the need to be show-offs and clubby insular types like we do here in the northeast. Because I think we're talking mostly northeast that does this, no? Calling all Alabamans who read my blog: do you have a car magnet? What does it have on it?
I love car magnets because I love to try to figure out what they mean or which school or whatever they are from. Here's an example: white circle with PARK inside it. No, you are not getting admonished to pull over. That is a private school. It is nice. We sometimes get to go play soccer there when they need our rental money. Ditto BBBBBBN. Wait, I think I exaggerated the Bs. Nice private school. Meadowbrook School has one and it is fancy-- some totem or what do you call those Veritas kinds of emblems? I could not get a shot of it last week as Mr. MDX with the Meadowbrook magnet attempted warp speed around the corner by the bus stop. Thank goodness it's private school spring break. Anyway...
Now, when you see ACK, that is not a comment on your driving either. I'd like to put an ACK next to a PARK and see what happens. ACK! PARK! Achtung! ACK is the airport code for Nantucket. If you have that on your car, I would like to be your friend. You have a nice second home, wear crawfish-emblazoned shorts, and possibly have gin and tonics. No margaritas. I am available most weekends in June.
Some have no letters. Like this one:
Yep, this is on my car. It is a black dog. I got it because I too have a black dog. His name is Coal. Most people have that magnet because they have a house on an island called Martha's Vineyard where there is a shop called The Black Dog. That was a heap-expensive magnet. I think I paid more for it than my rescue dog. Wait, did I say rescue dog? I meant pedigreed black lab.
The other magnet on my suv is for NEFC. New England Football Club, or NE Futbol Club. So yes, we just translate that one little "F" word so we appear international. One son plays for this club team. The magnet was free with me agreeing to be the manager. All glory, I tell you. Well, quite a few losses. But it's pretty, no?
On the hooptie, we also have a magnet that I have seen a version without any writing on it. That is the totally top secret version. So it looks like a set of green lungs but is actually Mount Desert Island which harbors the incredibly lovely Acadia National Park. Or ANP if you prefer that magnet. If any of you were privvy to my facebook post about my Mercedes-SUV driving handyman, you will know that he said to me, when he saw the magnet: "hey we have to talk about MDI sometime--I have a house there." Please note the use of "a" house. I have "a" house too that is bankrupting me on mortgages and paying Weston-living handymen with houses in MDI. Sigh.
Yeah, if you're a great athlete you probably also have some crossed oars or 13.1 or 26.2, distances that make me throw up just thinking about them. Well I could put a 13.1 on my car from the Rio half a few years ago but well, things are busy on the hooptie.
So, what's on your car? Besides road salt and squished bugs? No, I don't want to hear about your political bumper stickers. Speaking of which, why are most political stickers actually stickers not car magnets? That takes quite a bit of commitment when the Republicans are dropping out like flies, no? Maybe you could just stick the next one on top... CARLY.... wait, no,.... CHRISTIE...no, JEB, oh crud, just go with KASICH and then I won't feel the need to scratch your paint. Just kidding. I would never do that. Seriously.
Okay, so I can only hope that this fluffball of a blog has diverted at least my mom, my most loyal reader, from an afternoon of political chaos. I'll let you know when I print up my car magnets that read "WCPGW?" - I'll let you have one free.
Monday, March 7, 2016
|Partial view of Sugarloaf from the Base Lodge|
On Saturday afternoon, we saw this sign as we headed up to Sugarloaf Mountain in Maine. And so, I should warn you all that this is my blog love note to Sugarloaf. No, not the Pão de Açucar (Sugarloaf in Portuguese) in Rio which is pretty awesome but covered in my old blog called Brazil in My Eyes. No, this is our American Sugarloaf: a ski mountain and so much more. If you have read my blog before, you will see part one here from last year. This is part deux. La Revanche.
I am not so worried that this second blog-ode to Sugarloaf will mean that there will be a traffic jam on the way up next time. It is 4 hours from here in Weston--it is not for faint of heart. It is also, in my opinion, the only place in New England ski country that you can experience all four seasons (well, okay, three, summer misses it) in one day. Or half day. This is not necessarily a plus on a ski mountain.
We started going to Sugarloaf a year ago during the Snowmaggedon winter. Why Sugarloaf? Our neighbors were going for the four-day MLK weekend, and I convinced also a Wellesley classmate who lives in Freeport (yes, she of the "camp" reference) to come for a couple of days. Last year, Snowmaggedon started on January 22 more or less. MLK weekend was four days before snow. Instead, we got one day of -9 windchill, one day of perfect sunny weather and ice (no New England ski adventure is complete, or even started, without a great deal of ice), and then it rained all night and we skied on slush and grass. It was THE BEST.
Before you think that I have vodka in my coffee this morning, I will tell you why it was the best (or you can read last year's blog post...but let me bullet point it).
1. Ski in, ski out. Since I grew up in Connecticut, we never ever went away for a ski weekend. We got up at the crack of midnight to drive up and then drive back in one day. Ski in, ski out of a condo means you can have a nice lunch for less than $30 and it tastes much better than cardboard. Sorry, Sugarloaf, but your restaurant is terrible.
2. Widowmaker. This is the bar with a view at Sugarloaf where we gave up on icy day and sat and drank yummy $400 beers.
3. The ski school. Sugarloaf's is the best. My beginning skiers last year learned to ski without fear, got hot chocolate approximately every half-hour on the freezing cold day, made new friends, and I got to ski with my friends on the "real" trails.
4. Fewer New Yorkers. Nah, I'm just kidding, especially since I was born in NYC. In general, there are just fewer people than the mountains within 2-3 hours of metropolises (metropoli?). Sorry, Portland, you are not a metropolis: you are adorable.
5. Friends old and new. There is nothing like a ski vacation with 8 kids of varied ages. It's freakin' fun.
|Ski school fun|
So this year, we could not make it happen for MLK day weekend. So we went, with the usual suspects, for the second weekend of February winter break. And during those three days we got another Sugarloaf weather "surprise" along with a ride that would be envied by Universal Studios or Disneyworld. The suicide beginner trail. This was a green-circle (beginner) trail through the woods which is normally pretty and easy...but was on this day, sheer green ice. Never seen green ice? That is because normally there is white stuff on top of it. We were down to the glacier.
So what made it suicidal? It was impossible to stop, even for us intermediate skiers. So we literally screamed our way down it. I tried to stop once, hit a tree root and did a 360 into a mogul (that was not a mogul, but possible a beaver dam) and finally came to a stop to watch my friend Wendy scream to a stop right behind me and then we both bent over laughing hysterically. Not happy laughter--we still had half the trail to go.
Without question, that was the worst double-black diamond I have ever been down, yet it was only a green. Why pay for Big Thunder Railroad when you have skiing in the Northeast? For the same price as a day at Disney, and no need for Fastpass, you can scream yourself silly. With a helmet, please.
For a good time of superlatives, make sure to read the Sugarloaf Mountain Daily trails report. I imagine the person writing it has been up all night blowing snow (inhaling smoke) and grooming trails, because his/her reality is vastly different than mine. Like "moderate" snow gusts of 30 miles an hour. What exactly defines strong snow gusts? A nor'easter? Tornado? It is not fun being on a lift with moderate snow gusts. Trust me.
Then the report continues on to tell about snow squalls, ice, lifts closed due to winds, 30 trails closed for lack of snow, ya-de-ya, and then ends with the line "It's going to be a GREAT day on the mountain." I assume that was said with the exhale of a large amount of medical marijuana. Seriously? My Freeport friend and her teenage kids did ski, as did my kids and neighbor's kids, but me, I turned in my ticket for a credit and watched the Weather Channel in the ski lodge. I am too old.
So we got to use these credits yesterday. We drove up as far as Farmington (an hour from the mountain) Saturday night, had an enormous dinner, and then on to Sugarloaf on Sunday morning. We learned a trick--always, always ski on Sundays if you hate lines.
We had the best New England ski day ever. Sun, glorious sun to begin the day. Snowmaking had created lots of lovely new snow, and the minimum of ice. By 1 pm, we could ski into the Superquad with no lines. Up and down the hill. The kids skied with us, then they skied alone (one is snowboarding now), then they built an ice sculpture, then we ate a bunch of cardboard food.
Let's face it. We'll never be the family with the ski house, the ski team kids, and well, even our own equipment. We love rental equipment and wearing other people's smelly boots. We love screaming down ice chutes, laughing our butts off and renting crappy condos. We are the riff-raff of the mountain. But my son who had to walk down the scary hill last year? This year he smoked me on the same slope while telling me stories about lynxes (no I didn't hear most of them). The other kid can snowboard and ski now.
Disney can kiss my bindings on this whole surge pricing business: for $100/day and all the laughs and thrills you can imagine, I choose Sugarloaf. Life as it should be.
|Riff raff on a snowboard with a view|