We Have To Go Back!

Chez Mom

Christmas Day was bright and sunny, as you can see, there was snow on the ground from the storms earlier in December. Making it, to my way of thinking, a white Christmas. Others have their own definitions, I have mine. When the ground is mostly snow covered, to me that is sufficient to the day.

The Christmas before The Nuke was born, six days before to be precise, we had a blizzard on Christmas Eve in Denver which dropped a good three feet of snow upon the Denver metro area. The ID-10-T mayor of Denver at the time decided that, as it was a weekend - Christmas was on a Saturday - that the road plowing could be put off until the following Monday. Only the major thoroughfares were plowed, crippling the city. Lowry AFB was shut down for five days, couldn't get in, couldn't get out.

That got the attention of the voters, and Bill McNichols found himself without a job after the elections held in the spring. Here's the story of how he lost his job.

Bottom line is that's the whitest Christmas I've ever seen, and it was enough for me!

Anyhoo, I digress. (The next two photos are from Christmas Eve, for those keeping score at home.)

Yes, my Mom likes cardinals.

Rather festive I thought.

After a few hours of dining and telling stories of "olden" times at my brother's house, we had to head back to Mom's (her cats were in need of sustenance). We had driven about a mile when my brother, The Musician, said, "We forgot the beer!" You see, we had brought adult libations with us as The Olde Vermonter doesn't really drink, oh he'll have the occasional hard cider but he isn't well-stocked with anything else.

I got on the horn to The Olde Vermonter and let him know that we were returning for the beer. My mother thought that this was the most ridiculous thing that she had ever heard, "It's just beer," she cried out as The Musician wheeled his vehicle around to put us on a reciprocal course. The Missus Herself also thought my brother and I to be somewhat addled in our persistence in returning for the beer.

In my mother's case this was understandable, for my father drank naught but American "classics" like Miller Lite and Bud Light, beverages which to my taste buds are suspiciously close to drinking canned water. Living in Germany for all those years gave me a taste for fancier and far more robust brews than my father knew. Mom, not being a beer person anyway, just didn't get it at all.

As we headed back to The Olde Vermonter's place, The Musician explained to our mother that this wasn't just any beer, no, this was beer which had been gifted by him to Your Humble Scribe. In truth it was a variety of beverages made from hops and barley, all of them being of the stout variety which I crave.

So we retrieved the beer, Mom still grumbled about "such nonsense" while my brother and I felt justified in our noble quest. After all, it was really good beer. This particular one surprised both of us with its tastiness. Very nice it was.

And I still have two left! Also of note is this beverage is brewed in Maine where my niece and her man have just bought a house. Good to know I have people on the ground at the source. Ya know, should I want more.

Anyhoo, the beer was rescued and we all returned to Mom's for a quiet night of sipping various stouts and watching Home Alone on the tube.

A good day indeed.

Vacation continues...