Monday, December 13, 2010

Our Secret Mountain Getaway


When I'm a multi-millionaire I'm going to buy a mega cabin in the mountains. And ALL of our friends and their families (that means you, so work with me here) will pack up their cars and drive up winding slopes in a long caravan to get snowed in for a weekend accidentally on purpose.

We'll turn off our engines and our cellphones - cause they aren't gonna work out here, anyway. And we'll unload our luggage as we meet in the foyer, exchanging hugs and handshakes and it's-been-too-longs. And then we'll all disperse to our luxurious bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms and private balconies with mountain views. :) The kids will be bouncing off of the walls, becoming familiar with their new stomping grounds, and the ladies roam the cabin to check out each other's digs ("Oh, YOU have a steam shower?" "Look at your view!") while the men test out the line of lazy-boys in the family room.


And during the day we'll all sit around and build gingerbread houses and bake cookies and play board games on the floor. And at night we'll sip steamy wassail and frothy hot cocoa as we sing carols around our massive stone fireplace. Someone is always off key, and so they must sing the loudest of us all.  We'll tell stories from our past and laugh and laugh while popping popcorn over the crackling fire.

And after all the littles are tucked in for the night, we'll pry open the backdoor, and the women will take their sparkling glasses for a soak in the jacuzzi amidst the swirling snow. We'll giggle and tell secrets. And the guys will sit in the sauna with waterproof cards and talk about manly things. They'll strategize just the right way to chop down a Christmas tree and argue over who gets to wield the ax first tomorrow.


And when eyelids are droopy and fingers are pruny, everyone will retire to their own private suites. We'll slip beneath thick down comforters in rustic mountain patterns and sink into overstuffed pillows.  And we'll awake the next day to the smell of crisp mountain air, and we'll all gather downstairs to concoct a stick to your ribs breakfast of fluffy flapjacks and cheesy omelets; thick, round sausages and stringy potatoes with some buttery biscuits on the side. And we'll drink gallons of coffee and orange juice until our bellies and our bladders are fit to burst.


And then the women will bundle up the men-folk until they're entirely indistinguishable from one another, and the guys will head out into the snow to chop down a tree. Meanwhile, the children run around in their jammies until noon, while the ladies head up to the attic to scrounge for some decorations. Only the attic is unheated and scary. And someone spots a giant spider. AGH! And we grown women, now turned squealing school girls, race down the attic stairs and wait until the men get home to fetch the rest of the decorations.

We decide our time is much better spent doing pedicures. And our husbands are inevitably annoyed when they get back to find the job undone. And they begrudgingly head upstairs to carry down the boxes. They come down bearing a giant ball of lint and dust and ask, "Is this your spider?" And the women will look at each other and say, "Whoopsies!" Because, isn't that the way it always goes?


And after a refueling lunch and the detangling of many lighted cords, the tree is trimmed and there is much "oohing" and "ahhing" from the crowd. And we repeat another night of games and stories and laughing until our insides hurt. And the children will argue over who gets the top-bunk this time, while moms and dads tell last minute bedtime stories.

And we'll all give a little groan when we wake up the next day to see that the snow is finally beginning to melt. We'll slowly pack our bags while trying to convince ourselves that we need to stay just one more night. Our bosses will understand. And we'll mill around at breakfast playing the "should we or shouldn't we?" game. Someone insists that we should. We all know that we shouldn't. So sadly we pile into our cars and head back down the mountain (passing the cleaning service van on the way, cause, um, we're millionaires and we're so not doing dishes on our mini-vacation.)



And just when we think our adventures are over, someone undoubtedly gets their car stuck in the snow. So we'll all file out to give them a push, and Mr. "we should have stayed one more night" gets his "I told you so" moment of glory. And as we finally get ready to head out once again, we'll wave goodbye with many we-need-to-do-this-agains. We'll give our last hugs and Merry Christmas wishes as we drive ourselves back to reality.

Sigh. It sure was nice while it lasted, wasn't it?

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Great story.

GJR

Christine Pettijohn said...

Now that was a nice mini vacation through time for a Monday morning. Awesome story!

Meagan said...

sounds like fun but now I'm craving one of those cheesy omelets!!

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