Grandma's House

Not my mom's house. Nor my mother-in-law's house.

Grandma's House is a tiny place at Squaw. It's not on any map. In fact, every spot on the mountain has a name. It's like the hidden menu at Jamba Juice or In-N-Out. You have to be in the know. And when your child skis on team they know all this stuff. If you're lucky, they show you. Which is how I ended up skiing through the trees and to Grandma's House on Sunday.

Tori also took me down Broken Arrow. Which is on the trail map. She showed me BR. Big Rock. Sunday was just a great day for skiing. I get pickier and pickier about the conditions as I get older. If there's wind, forget it. Light snow is fine but the wind just makes me cold. And scared on the chairlifts. And by the way I hate putting on my boots. And walking to the Funitel. Which is such a horrible thing to admit when you are lucky to get to ski in the first place. Back to Sunday. Dave, Tori and I skied in the morning. I'm not sure where all the skiers were; it was an atypical Sunday. The sun was out and we skied with our jackets unzipped. And then in the afternoon Liberty and I ice skated. It's harder than it looks.

Friends of ours just closed on a place at Northstar so we feted them Saturday night at the 50 50 Brewpub in Truckee. It was good. For Tahoe.

I missed the neighborhood Academy Award viewing party but it was worth it to have a pristine day of winter sports with the kids and Dave. And as a bonus, I have The Hurt Locker here on DVD. Dave was savvy enough to get it from Netflix before won best picture.