Odell Lake, Phase 10, and Jack on Skis

I have mentioned before that Brent is pretty much impossible to shop for. I was really going for the homemade (read: cheap) Christmas gifts this year and as far as I know nobody was too disappointed with the things I produced. But Brent is a tricky one. He's just not that in to rocket ship pajama pants or handmade boy dolls, so my sewing options are fairly limited with this guy. And so I decided to give him a Christmas trip instead.

I booked us a cabin at the Shelter Cove Resort at Odell Lake. After you finish my last demand (that you read Lonesome Dove, in case you have forgotten), you MUST consider a trip to this place. Or at least you should. Or maybe you might want to. Okay, I'll quit making demands, but really, this place totally rules and you're about to see why...

Admittedly, the weather was less than ideal. We were hoping for fresh snow but we settled for dirty, frozen over snow with a side of icy rain. But that didn't stop us from sledding. I am kind of a wuss, so I figured I'd be leaving the sledding up to the man of the house, but once I built up the nerve to slide down an icy hill on my butt, I found that it was actually quite enjoyable.

I was totally relieved to find that the cabin was warm and homey and just what I had hoped for. You know when you are the one who makes all of the arrangements and then you have to get kind of nervous upon your arrival because what if it totally sucks? And then everyone is disappointed? And then you kind of feel like it's your fault? (Maybe that's just me.)

We spent plenty of cozy time hunkered down in the cabin resting up between skiing, sledding, wandering and exploring the snow tunnels. And Brent and I played some serious Phase-10. I know I have mentioned this card game before, but seriously people, I think some of you still have not played Phase-10 yet. And that is just terrible.

Phase-10 is the one game that actually brings out my competitive side. I am not one for sports (don't ever throw a ball at me! I have a debilitating fear of balls being thrown at me that can be traced back to 7th grade dodgeball. My fear of balls really limits my participation in sports, although I do love me some badminton and bowling is pretty fun). Also, I just usually don't care about sportsmanship and teamwork and winning and glory and all that. But Phase-10 is my game. I don't care who you are, I will kick your ass at Phase-10. Repeatedly. Just ask Brent.

Jack had his heart absolutely set on skiing. We really had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we arrived at Willamette Pass and rented the smallest pair of skis they had. I figured we'd drag him up the bunny slope, he'd fall a few times, we'd console him with a hot chocolate in the lodge, and then we'd be on our way.

I was wrong. Jack skied all morning until we made him take a break for lunch. Then he and Brent went back for more while Sawyer and I took naps at the cabin (I TOOK A NAP!!?!) and ended up closing down the place. You can see a video clip from the afternoon here:

And if you have some time to kill, go here for the extended version (please note that is not my shrill voice in the background-I was back in the cabin at this point blissfully snoozing the afternoon away...)

Our last day was the sunny day. Naturally.

Brent hit the slopes for a quick snowboarding session, while I attempted to keep the children happy and amused. We hung out at the base of the mountain hoping to catch a glimpse of Dad in action. When we saw him coming down toward us, we all jumped up and down, waving like lunatics and I snapped more than a few photos. And then we realized that it wasn't him. Oops. So at least one snowboarder at Willamette Pass that day knows my little secret: sometimes I am a bit crazy.

For the record, you can no longer sled on the hill across the highway from the ski slope. I learned this after dragging two sleds, both children, and the coats and gloves of both children who had decided they were too hot across the highway and up the hill. I was beet red and sweating like a pig by the time I realized that, in fact, the signs indicating that this was a "No Snowplay Zone" meant that the entire hill was off limits for sledding. And so I decided to stop and catch my breath (and shed a few layers- it was pretty warm that day) and sure enough, along comes a very officious looking older gentleman who scolded me for allowing my children to play in such a dangerous area. Note the precipitous drop in question:

And he didn't even offer to help me haul two crestfallen would-be sledders back across the road. Oh well, you can't win them all.

Unless, of course, we are talking Phase-10.

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