Thanksmas and River Skating

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to Iowa we go!

 Someone adds 200 miles to this trip every time we make it.  For reals.

And my old lady hips don't enjoy that extra 200 miles.  Or the first 700.  I can stand 10 hours straight, no problem.  Hello, that's kinda what I do every day at work.  But put me in a vehicle and make me sit for 10 hours and we've got a problem.

Southwest Airlines, get excited, cause the Clarks will be visiting you soon.


Iowa in the Fall.

We picked the monsters up at school on the last day before Thanksgiving.  They didn't know we were coming and were pretty pumped to see us.

Some random boy walked up to Wilberforce, tugged on his sleeve and said very matter-of-factly "I know whose dad you are.


Braeden's."


Bahahahaha.  Um no, little monster.  His uncle.  Now go, be gone, return back into the swarm of screaming children congesting this hallway and giving Manda heart palpitations.


We took the monsters out for ice cream.  It was a balmy 13 degrees out, so of course ice cream was the obvious after-school-snack choice.

Duh.


We were rewarded for our good-psuedo-parenting choices by experiencing an ice cream miracle.

Behold:

 Braed ate this entire ice cream cone without a speck on his face, not a smidge on his hands, not a crumb on his shirt.

Unbelievable.

Gus didn't fare so well.  Ah well, can't win em all.

And now, Dad's ice skating pictures.

 A more perfect river of ice was never created.  Smooth as glass.

Rule number one of River Skating:  There's no crying in River Skating.

This was my first bout of river skating during which I was an adult participant.  As a kid, all you have to be concerned with is not falling down and not falling through.  As an adult, you have to be concerned about the monsters.

However, adults don't give a shizzz if the monsters fall down.  We only care if they fall through.

"Oh hey, little monster.  Say what?  You fell down and hurt your knee?  That sucks.  You're still on this side of the ice, so suck it up."

"You got your little face bladed by your brother in a pile up?  Looks like it might hurt.  Just a flesh wound.  You're not underwater.  Quit whining."

Or maybe that's my only concern because I'm Auntie and not Mom.  No need to overreact though, right?


I'm pretty sure we've got a picture of Dad circa 1989 doing this same move.  I learned from the best.

 I also learned this move from Dad.

It takes skill and grace to catch your blade, become airborne, and land the entirety of your body weight all on one joint.  And if that joint isn't your bad knee, you aren't trying hard enough.


Logie spent a lot of time on the ice.

And so, a Thanksgiving Tradition was reborn.

 Started decades ago by the original Lenz Family (don't mind the Logie photo-bomb).

Oh, and no River Skate is complete without a race.  And we wouldn't be who we are if Beanie didn't TOTALLY CHEAT.  

Just throwin' that out there. 

This was my morning view for the first twenty-some years of my life.  Sunrise through the farmhouse screen of my bedroom window.  

We made it back to Colorado after the best Thanksgiving we've had EVER.  I missed la familia, but Wilberforce and I relaxed on the couch with a puzzle and a fire.

 And the next morning I had a tasty breakfast of leftover turkey and avocados Momma packed for us.  MMMMMM....Thanksgiving leftovers.

 My very talented BeeKnee made this wreath for me, which is lucky for Mom because I was 30 seconds from stealing the wreath BeeKnee made for her that I saw in my old bedroom.

And now, I expect a decrease in nasty phone calls from you, Dad.