Snowboarding at Bromley

On short notice, my uncle and cousin informed my father and I that they were invited to a house in Vermont for three days of snowboarding/skiing at Bromley, and they were wondering if we wanted to join them.  So, we decided to go with them, and my father flew down to Long Island to pick them and their gear up and fly back here all on Sunday.  We then decided to leave that night and take 2 cars because my dad needed to get to a meeting early Wednesday back in CT.

So we left, my dad  and I in the Mazda (Not meant for off road) following my uncle and 9 year old cousin, Hunter, in the Explorer (Meant for off road.)  About 2 and a half hours later, we got off I-91 at exit 2 in VT, and hence commenced the hour of driving through the back roads of Vermont, all the while with confidence in that my uncle actually knew where he was going. (We were so far out in the sticks, we really hoped he knew what he was doing)  At the dinner table that night, he was telling us about the same trip he had taken previous times and how they weren't....so promising.  (He was locked out and had to kick open the door) Anyway, we pulled off the state road and I said to my dad, "Well, good thing the roads out here are actually paved."

Woops, spoke too soon.  Fortunately, it was only about a 5 minute drive through the dirt to get to what was REALLY the middle of nowhere.  Oh, and on the way up, we passed this pearl of real estate:

Someone actually lives here because there's smoke coming out of the makeshift chimney.

The siding consists of plastic bags

So where was I.....oh yea.  We got to the house (Which was unlocked, so kicking wasn't needed) and turned the heat up.  It was pretty classy.  It had a huge fireplace, a piano, big screen TV (Just wait for that story) with blue ray player.  Well furnished, I might add. (There was even a Vespa in the basement)

Pretty big place

There was no shortage of Christmas decorations, even though it is almost March  I don't know what the deal was with them, but they were everywhere.

The next morning we woke up to about 2 inches for new snow and went off to Bromley.  We had a blast snowboarding (Me, Uncle Paul, and Hunter) and my dad skied.  Hunter wasn't too skilled, so I spent most of the time teaching him how to snowboard.  I had a lot of fun doing so, and so did he.

We got back to the house and tried to get the TV with Direct TV to work. It didn't.  Nor did the long awaited hot tub.  Bummer. Anyway, we built a fire and I had to read some of the 23 chapters of Pride and Prejudice my teacher assigned me over vacation.  (I tell ya, there's nothing more fun than reading Pride and Prejudice on vacation....oh wait, yes there is!  Reading 23 chapters of it!)

Day 2:
Made some lunches and headed off to the mountain.  Again, we all had a great time and enjoyed every minute of snowboarding and skiing, especially my dad, who had a nasty fall on his face on the rightly named trail, "Peril."

The mountain

We decided to take our midday break at the beginning of the day today

When I talked to my dad about his fall he said, "Ya, I got pretty cut up on my face and slid down the mountain on my face, but at least I was able to get ice on my face instantly"

Always looking on the bright side of things

We got back to the house and messed with the hot tub some more to get it working without any luck.  We also tried watching TV, which was also a failure.

Now's an excellent time for me to mention, there's a Barbie channel on Direct TV.  When your stuck in a house with three other guys and that's the only channel you get,  you can very quickly go insane.

But, by chance of miracle, we managed to get the DVD player to work, so Planet of the Apes and Men in Black II it was that night.

Day 3:
My dad left that morning and the rest of us went to the mountain again.  Hunter and I went to the terrain park and bombed down the track they set up there.  Too bad we hadn't seen that earlier, we would've had more fun on it.

I made a board angel.

Hunter and my uncle Paul

So, we left on the third day and my father flew them back that night.  I speak for all of us when I say that we had a boatload of fun

A little trip up the river.

Last summer, the family and I took a little trip up the CT river in the boat and this is the result:

The Connecticut River Museum undergoing renovations after a fire broke out not long ago.

So, everywhere I go, people always ask me, "Shtove, (Seriously, that's the nickname I've been given here in DHHS, there's a long story behind that) where do you get the name for that awesome blog you write?" (No, they don't actually do that, but wouldn't it be nice if they did?)

And to that I present to all six of the followers following my blog, a behind the scenes view of my Ipod.  Yes, the name of my blog comes from a song, believe it or not, that I don't think I even have.  "Just Another Day In Paradise" is the title of a country song (and a rock song by Phil Collins, but that's the one I'm thinking of) written by Phil Vassar.  (Vassar, Collins, weird, hu?) Well anyway, now comes the deep, insightful, and meaningful part of this post:

In the song, Phil sings about his life and how nothing is going well and nothing is "perfect."  He says "There goes the washing machine," and "Here comes the mailman bringing that stack of bills."  He explains  how much of a mess his life currently is with "kids screaming" and how nothing goes right.  And that's just fine with him because its, you guessed it, "Just another day in paradise," and, "There's no place I'd rather be."  It's real amazing because even though life is so imperfect and can be a total downer and not be all to great, it's the only life you have and you should be grateful for the life you have, however imperfect it may be.  His song can be related to by everyone because everyone has been in the same predicament where life is overall poor.  But, that's not stopping him from writing a song about it.  This song tells me that no matter how bad things get, it could be worse.

Okay, so maybe I didn't talk about what else is on my Ipod, but maybe later.  And yes, "Shtove" really is the nickname that has been bestowed upon me.