Bathrooms are hard to photograph, but at least they are FINISHED.

There's a shower stall in our bathroom instead of a hole in a wall.

Having recovered from being ill, I still felt like a freshly hatched chicken (especially in the knee area), but a sunny weekend has hit us and it was necessary to take the kids outdoors. We split the family — first we rode our bikes in Shoreline Park and Hippo then manly continued with Tom along the trail towards a restaurant, while I loaded myself and Lisa and our bikes and cowardly reached the lunching place in a car.

By the next Friday I had recovered as much as being able to climb — and thus I took our kids, Bryce, and Bryce's mom Rumiko to the gym. Martin joined us there, but Hippo did not make it; he came only after we were ready for dinner. Our favorite Shana was full, but eventually we got a table for our seven-headed company. It was all somewhat hectic, kids were being first hungry and after feeding they were full of energy. I soon ordered them to depart and stuffed all three of them in our bus, for Bryce begged to watch a movie (their car has no DVD player). Rumiko and Hippo with Martin were walking to their respective cars in the lot, and I left with the whole circus. I came home as expected; not even leaving the garage, I heard a phone ringing. What followed looked like a scene from a movie — scared Rumiko on the other end of the line, saying that she collided with a bicyclist at the exit of the parking lot and they are waiting for police. I assured her that I can keep Bryce with us overnight, and asked her if the guys (Martin on Hippo) stayed with her. No, she said, they left before it happened.

I reckoned that Hippo must be more or less near home, i.e. half hour drive from the restaurant, while Martin would be surely home by now, for he lives (relatively) near Shana. So I called Martin. Used three sentences (or perhaps less?) to describe the situation, Martin hung up and thus without comment set out back to the restaurant, to check out the situation and provide moral support for Rumiko. Well, I know it's a cliche, but I'm really glad that we have friends like that — who don't fuss much and are willing to leave the shelter of their homes, to loiter around some parking lot on a rainy night, waiting to deal with cops.

Finally riding the train on his own.

Stuffing all kids in the bed was a challenge.

Martin called back after all kids were in their beds — to let us know Rumiko was all right, the biker was all right, besides being given a warning that he should ride with a light at night; he also said Rumiko was heading our way. In the end we let Bryce sleep in our house, as it was simpler that way than waking him up and moving him a few blocks down the road. Thus we had our first sleep-over, which our kids liked very much, and I think Bryce did as well — he did not seem to like to leave for his baseball match in the morning.

Given this exciting Friday night when we could not sleep well, we sought an undemanding program for Saturday. Eventually we concluded that a walk in Vasona Park, including visits to the kids' train and carousel, would be appropriate for our physical and mental capacities. There was one trouble with the train — we forgot to bring enough cash with us, and we scrounged for just two tickets. Since children are allowed to ride on their own once they reach four feet, we did not think twice about them going without us. Lisa seemed to look forward to it, but Tom freaked out. I asked him a silly question: was he afraid that someone would steal him? He said so, and began to list opportunities how a potential kid thief would snarl him from the moving train. When I applied logic to thwart his worries, he countered that if he had brought a toy along (which he did not) and if it fell out of the train, he could lean out to grab it and fall out himself. After the situation developed into a full crisis first (with the outlook of me and Lisa becoming the prospective passengers), Tom let us convince him — apparently on the basis that we put the responsibility on him to watch over his younger sister, who had to promise to follow his advice. This unusual thing (Lisa volunteering to submit to an authority) seemed to entice Tom so much that it beat his worries of thieves and falling imaginary toys. Whoa. I must say that my children can still catch me unprepared.

In the following week, the incredible became reality — I was suddenly choosing colors for painting the FINISHED bathrooms! Hippo budged in the last moment and insisted on different toilet paper holders, thus we had to devote one morning to choose the one and only style of this essential equipment, but there was LIGHT! at the end of the tunnel. The feeling, not having to devise and plan for the whole family whenever I like to brush my teeth! To be able to sit on a toilet and read even a WHOLE CHAPTER, without someone banging on the door. To be able to to crawl in my bed at two in the afternoon, while NO crowd of workers would parade up and down the same room! To be able to turn on the heat during the day, and none of it would immediately fly out of the ever open windows and doors! Imagine this incredible LUXURY.

Kuba a Tom se věnují skládání lega a transformerů.

A giant hot dog on a lunch at a cafeteria under the slope.

However, I was not meant to enjoy this luxury for too long; one day after the work was finished, I just barely managed to wash all the (dusty) bed covers, towels, rugs — and I found myself packing for the mountains. Our kids had a mini-vacation on Friday and Nejedlý's children got better health-wise, and we planned a massive skiing trip. Vedulka got herself added to our car. Our departure was pushed out till two in the afternoon, since I was bound to attend a training at my work (= at school), but we still managed to slither through all the traffic jam spots before they built up and reach the place during daylight, just in time for the juniors to get thoroughly soaked by playing in the snow. Petr had to attend their teacher-parent conferences, and they picked up a mild delay, arriving for dinner.

Fitting kids in the bed reminded of attempts with an octopus and a netted bag — there was always something crawling out and making fuss, somebody kept on giggling or whining, simply a disaster. Underage members of the expedition were therefore subsequently stiff in the morning, which saved their skins (for otherwise they would have been tossed out onto the snow). Petr loaded us all in his Sienna and we moved to Timber Creek. An adrenaline-filled hour ensued, also known as filling out all forms, signing up Jack and Eliška to classes, renting gear for all children and Petr, including running around the rental place for the purpose of testing boots and skis. Then Petr handed his kids over to the instructors, I took all kids' shoes back to the car, fetching my own ski boots and my skis there — and we were ready to hit the slopes.

Lisa complained by noon of being tired; I took all juniors to the "cabin" for lunch. Lisa actually collapsed on a coach with a blanket and lied around and relaxed for about twenty minutes. Lunch made her perky again, and she later lasted skiing throughout the afternoon. Naturally we had to return to Timber Creek by three thirty — Tom wanted to ski with Jack. We could not spot Nejedlý's somehow and so I sent my kids on their own to the easiest lift, planning to wait for them to get back down (you can see the whole slope from below), giving myself a chance to intercept Petr. My breast was heaving with pride, seeing kids deal with the lift line — until the moment Lisa fell off of the seat. The operator stopped the whole circus and set out for her rescue. Tom did not wait and jumped off the lift as well. Indeed, the lift operators must be used to this, and pack a lot of strength — this one lifted Lisa up back on the seat, and then Tom, too (Lisa is tiny, but Tom and his gear must be close to seventy pounds).

Kids skiing with Hippo

Venulka flying over a cornice, Martin in a yellow jacket on the edge of the slope.

All this was happening while I discovered that Peter and Jack and Eliška were present at the lift, I just had not see them through the operator's cabin. Thus I sent them up to follow Tom and Lisa. After they completed one round with Nejedlý's, I talked the kids into catching the last ride on the next lift, which offers a traversal route all the way to our "cabin" — I had no desire to get stuck at Timber Creek when the lifts stop, trot back to the car, stuff everything in (kids, skis, boots) and then unload it all again at the "cabin".

I was shocked to see kids devour their snacks and demand to be immediately released out. Jack told Tom that they would take the shovel and start digging the hole, which worried me a little. And I was right — volunteers decided to dig trough the snow bank heaped in front of their bedroom window. This might have been all by itself a beneficial feat, but a huge shovel in the close vicinity of the (quite breakable) glass pane did not seem as a good idea. Not to mention the somewhat less likely, but still existing possiblity for a junior falling into a narrow and deep gap between the bank and the building. Simply put: I had to berate the kids and confiscate the shovel.

A crisis emerged in the evening on an unexpected front. Lisa was hugging Jack in the bed and Tom began to be awfully jealous that Jack is not going to be his friend anymore. We tried to explain to him with Petr that Lisa will not really enjoy putting together Lego with Jack, and thus his interest won't be threatened, but it was a weak argument at the moment.

Almost by midnight Pavel came with Hippo and Martin. Petr slept with the kids in the bedroom and the rest of us spread out in the living room; I ended up with my head right next to the (burning) fireplace and I felt awfully hot. The single bedroom condo underwent a stress test in the morning — four kids and five adults. Fortunately, skiing is a great incetive, and soon everybody cycled out to catch the lifts. Petr took his kids to Timber Creek, we talked our juniors to try a few more demanding slopes first. Still in the end they wanted to join Jack and Eliška. We had a group lunch at a Timber Creek cafeteria and proceeded in skiing for some more time, then Hippo left with Petr and all the kids to the "cabin" to pack. Tom and Lisa picked playing with little Nejedlý's some more, rather than achieving on the slopes. Which left the rest of the achieving to me — I managed to ski down some harder things with Vendula and Martin.

After returning from the mountains, Lisa applied her newly acquired school knowledge to decorate our driveway.

Yours truly in a new helmet (photo Rumiko/cellphone).

On Sunday I took the family into a well-ridden gully, which Vendulka had shown me the day before. Kids loved skiing between narrow slopes of the canyon, but Hippo rumbled that his weight gives him too much momentum and brings him to the point of falling. I tried one ride with just the kids; Tom was to go first, then Lisa, and I closed the line, planning to pick up fallen children and their gear. It did not work too well; Tom went too fast and Lisa smacked down after first few yards. Eventually we all got to the lower end.

Our next ride included Martin, Vendulka and Pavel. Tom liked to ride immediately after Pavel and demanded to ski with them ever since — which of course was not possible; namely, it was I who wanted to ski with the strong trio! I wanted them to take me to the more interesting terrain than groomed slopes. This wish of mine was granted in abundance; it seems that I shall have to learn to ski after all. Where others lightly and elegantly swished down, I huffed and fell and cursed. After a couple of rides my legs were brutally aching, and so I was almost glad we had to pack up early to let the kids get soon enough to bed, and be able to get up to go to school in the morning.

My birthday is in March — this year I knew exactly what to wish as a present. After I had checked our everybody else's ski helmets at the "cabin", I decided for the most comfortable one. Which also meant the most expensive. We were hoping for some discounts, and it even worked out with my birthday. Now it's only a question how my new helmet is going to prove itself. To make myself clear — Pavel's helmet was comfortable to wear. Black, with a small visor which stops sun from shining around the upper edge of your sunglasses and diverts some snow spray from your face. But when I skied in Pavel's helmet, I was being approached by one geezer after another on the lifts. On days when Pavel skied, too, I had to take advantage of Ben's helmet. Ben's twelve and his helmet sports a sticker depicting Andy the zombie, who is clawing his way from within through a bloddy gash. Equipped thus, the age of men striking a spontaneous conversation with me dropped by about 60%. My new helmet is the same like Pavel's, only WHITE. We shall see. If you knew about a cool zombie sticker, though, let me know.