Monday, September 23, 2013
THIS would be nice.
Our Christmas plans are being firmed up. We're going to the exciting and booming metropolis of Moscow, Idaho for Christmas. My mom's sister Colleen and her husband Douglas live there. They've been begging us to come for years. They can't usually come to where we are, as Uncle Douglas is a pediatrician without a full partner and doesn't get much time off. Several members of the family are showing up, and even my Uncle Steve and his family, who are from the other side of the family, are going. He and his family will spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day there, and then go to Utah to visit my grandma, and then go up to North Dakota to see his wife's family. His wife's family is gathering for New Year's since they're all doing Christmas with their spouse's families. (It could be worse than it is; we could all be going to the vast wasteland of North Dakota for Christmas.) At least we'll presumably have a white Christmas, which we wouldn't have either at our coastal location or in the [sarcasm font] beautiful [end sarcasm font] San Joaquin Valley. A white Christmas in the San Joaquin valley consists of fog.
Usually I would snowboard during winter break. I can't this year because I cannot take a risk of falling and injuring either arm, shoulder, hand, or even fingers with the violin recital looming. I may do just a bit of cross-country skiing and snow-shoeing, which are both about as exciting as watching icicles form, but my Uncle Douglas is going to the trouble of procuring the equipment for me, so going along with the activities is the very least I can do.
After Christmas, I'll go with my family to Utah to see my grandmother and to play my recital pieces for her, as she most likely will not be able to attend either recital. Unless I find something terribly exciting happening in Utah, I'll probably fly back to California early, as snow loses its charm after a few days if one can neither ski nor snowboard in it. I might be able to go snowmobiling a bit, but I'll have to be careful doing even that. I can't risk a fluke accident. For that matter, I should probably stop crossing streets, doing dishes (Knives are awfully sharp these days; Bobby Flay and others have perpetuated what I think is an urban legend that the sharper a knife is, the less likely one is to cut oneself with it because it slices more easily and one needs to do less hacking away at a piece of meat or a vegetable in order to cut it. Does it sound like bullshit to you? It does to me as well.) and climbing stairs until both recitals are over.
The week after my violin recital in February, I'm flying north for a medical school interview, presuming that the school in question desires to interview me, then meeting the pseudorelatives in Utah for a week of snowboarding. I'll make up for lost time.
I'm just assuming that Moscow, Idaho typically has white Christmases. For all I know, they have nothing but frost until after the first of the year, at which time they are bombarded with metres upon metres of snow. Or, on the other hand, maybe Moscow will go thorugh a period of a drought this winter and it will be just about as Christmasy as hanging out in Fresno (for the record, I've never spent Christmas in Fresno) on December 25. Perhaps we can bribe someone with a key to the Kibby Dome to let us in for a rousing game of touch football, during which I'll probably break an arm. Knock on wood for me, please.