When it rains, it floods

This post was supposed to be about our big ski outing last weekend up at the cabin; the weekend where Finn actually took his first run, seen at right. His style more closely mirrors "noodles on ice" than it does Super G, but I'm hoping we can turn that around with some intensive training this season since the Pineapple Express is currently burying us in precipitation. I hope he's up for it. Tough to tell, given how close to the vest he's playing his emotions in this picture.

He also enjoyed hanging out in the lodge after daddy got tired of carrying him up the rope tow after three whole runs down the bunny hill. Who needs a mountain when there's a table to crawl under and a big Christmas tree to topple?

The only thing missing was a bar that didn't have an absurdly late 11:30 AM opening time. Don't they know that there are parents that frequent that mountain? How can I wait until 11:30 for a beer when I've got to get him home for a nap at 1 PM?

That question was never answered, no matter how many times my companion, Captain Inappropriate, loudly repeated it.

Yeah, that's what this post was supposed to be about, until we returned home from the cabin to find the same Pineapple Express noted above had flooded our basement. For those of you keeping score, that's three floods in three years - though I can't really fault our clearly Swiss cheese foundation for the cat-flood. In fact, given how porous it is, it may have actually helped the water drain back out of the house.

Luckily, no Christmas presents - currently stored in the same room that appears to house the front door for the flood waters - were damaged, so Christmas will go on as scheduled. Also luckily, this was a relatively small flood (and I'm now very good at cleaning floods up), so everything's dry and back to normal.

And lastly luckily, I didn't have to wait for a mountain bar to open to help medicate myself through that situation. And that's the most luckily of all.