An email from Justin today (he asked for my new address to send Katy's hand-me-downs...it's like Christmas!):Big box, including some nice shoes, some crappy but good shoes, pair of new winter boots and the usual Katy broken in stuff.
Some good for working with dad under the Chevy, but most pretty decent stuff.
I accept cash, cash and cash, or you could send me my freaking cookies you procrastinator.
Holy shit!
God created the earth in 7 freaking days.
What kind of damn cookies take months to make?
Oh, and I want some lobster tails.
Nothing too ostentatious though.
Don’t want to come across as uppity.
Thank you for the gifts Martine.
You and mom did not follow the rules, but as I was one of the benefactors of your reckless rule breaking, thank you.
Did you know my birthday is next month?
40 years old.
That’s a big one.
Needs to be celebrated just right, with huge and very expensive gifts.
Like a box of freaking damn ever loving cookies!
I will accept cash, liquor and freaking cookies.
Chivas Regal is a nice, gentle hint.
55 gallon drum should work just fine.
You do know how to bake right?
This whole cookie thing is going to put me in therapy you know.
Oh, I also like meat.
The basics. Brisket, ham, turkey, dolphin tongue…the usual.
Summer sausage with those fancy little cheeses. Now that’s the way to a mans heart right there!
Or you can send him freaking COOKIES!!!!!
I like guns!
And my truck.
Oh shit.
I think I might be ADD.
Did I mention cookies?
Have I told you about my gun?
Its big you know.
I oil it every night, and sometimes in the morning too.
I will send the package out in the morning munchkin.
Lots of love
Your cookie starved, meat craving gun rubbing brother.
Here they are, waiting for their instructors. At this point they were impatient, sweaty (the lodge is HOT) and a little nervous. But aren't they the picture of ski-bunny-ness?
Maggie came very close to not skiing. She was so hot, and quickly melted down about everything ("my neck hurts, my legs are itchy, why are these boots so tight?"). She was the most nervous, but ended up doing very well...skiing alongside her instructor by the end of the day.
It shouldn't surprise you that Libby never lost focus, didn't complain once and could not wait to get up on those skis. Every morning since Monday, she's asked me when we're going skiing again (next weekend). Even after two solid hours of instruction, with only a short break for hot chocolate, she wanted to keep skiing. 
We met the family we went with through Jack...their son is one of his closest friends. And he (the friend) has only been skiing a year, but is pretty good (naturally). So Jack was very uptight about having to stay on the bunny hill, and "learn"...and being embarrassed in front of his friend. I don't think he had realistic expectations of how hard it is to learn. Anyway, he also did great...was learning to turn by the end of the day, and is also very anxious to get back on the slopes (and yes, he had a hair cut yesterday...he looks like a rock star and made me spend $12 on Paul Mitchell shaping balm. I took a picture of him this morning...will post it tomorrow...I think he's gonna be a lady killer).
The future Suzy Chapstick and Peekaboo Street (skiers have goofy names).
Jack with his instructor, Joe. 
Steve and I had front row seats to the all the activities and literally beamed from ear to ear with pride for the entire day. However, we are old, slightly plump and do not wish to ever be on skis. So we drank beer and took pictures...even of ourselves. I get kudos for posting such an extreme closeup of myself, because...er, wow...where did all those wrinkles come from?
