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You Just Never Know What’s Going to Happen in Vail

August 24th, 2007

(More from the travel files — wm)

“Please God, make this a stress-free day!”
My former roommate, praying loudly at the breakfast table, circa 1992

Today is actually… I have no idea. I believe it’s Tuesday, Aug. 14th, 2007, but I could be wrong. The altitude has me a little discombobulated. I do know we’re still in Colorado. I found a puzzle of the U.S. in our condo (read: apartment) and Wacky Boy and I put it together. There’s Oregon, there’s Idaho, zip through Wyoming, drop down to yep, Colorado. I could not visualize where we were until I put this puzzle together.

Three days with my Denver mother-in-law (not long enough), Denver cousins, Denver uncle, bro- and sis-in-law. Off to Vail with same bro- and sis-in-law from Denver (who later in the trip will surprise us with the news that they are not shacking up anymore, they got married last month. An elopment! Romantic… I’m sending them a toaster when we get home), meet up with Iowa City dad-in-law & mom-in-law (stepmom-in-law? I just call her my MIL) and…

I need a new paragraph here, this is getting wordy.

“…and then there are your elephantine sentences…”
My Shakespeare prof in college, critiquing one of my papers

My husband’s aunt, uncle, their daughter and grandkids from Pittsburgh, Pa., have joined us in Vail, along with their son from West Virginia. There are 23 of us total (8 of them kids, all under the age of 11. Eleven is a good stopping point, I think. I want them to all stop at the getting-older thing when they hit 11 and skip those teen years all together).

Everyone here in Vail is blonde, and they manage to look both skinny and robust at the same time. (How do they do this?) They are bedazzled and shimmering with jewels and tans. Especially the men. The kids are all wearing cunning little plaid shorts and a rainbow of Polo shirts. It is summer, so no skiing, but the gondola is running. I do not like heights, as you may already know, but my children and their father do, so they went. Wacky Girl hasn’t yet, actually — I think we were swimming or something — but she wants to go before we leave.

The kids are putting on a talent show tomorrow night (Wednesday? our last night here.). They’re singing and dancing to “Trashin’ the Camp,” from Tarzan.

I was convinced it was “Trash in the Can” until I googled it.

Would you like me to describe our condo/apartment? I cannot at the moment. My family is rock-hunting at Gore Creek, below us, and I must lie down with a cold rag on my head. All these fancy breakfasts and dinners. All this booze to drink. Along with this view of the mountains to take in. All these 5-10 million dollar condos and houses. All the blonde-ness (Yes, my kids and their cousins fit right in. They’re all stair-stepped in age, smiley and delicious.)

I’ll catch you later. Much.

Hearts and kisses,


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