christmas in march

Yes, yes, it's another vastly belated post. I'm not even going to bother offering up excuses. I'm sure you could all recite them for me by now. In any case, I was recently procrastinating by adding pictures to my rarely-used MySpace account, when I came across a group of photos I meant to post just after the holidays. They were already re-sized and everything! So here you go: a little photo-diary of our 2 weeks in Virginia over Christmas and New Years.

Apparently it was my father's goal this winter to continue where horseback riding and karate leave off and complete my training in becoming either one of Charlie's Angels or James Bond. Not that I'm complaining, although Freddy+new motorcycle sort of terrifies me.

That's me on the back of Fred's new Buell. We were riding up to the high school parking lot, where I was submitted to an exhilarating thirty minute motorcycle crash course:

Yes, that's me driving. I was going about 5 mph at the time. It was fun, I have to say, even though I dropped the bike twice (one of those times it just about landed on my leg!) while trying to get off. I don't think I'll be getting a motorcycle anytime soon though. Not only is April very opposed to the idea, but Rochester just doesn't have the most hospitable climate for enjoying the spirit of the open road. Now motocross, though, that'd be fun! (I'm not joking.)

Here Rita looks cross at the mere prospect of two wheels. She rode home behind Fred and afterwards said, "Well, I did that once. Once is enough." She looks good in yellow, though, doesn't she? Like a super snazzy Storm Tropper.

Of course, no good Angel is complete without some weapons training. That's a miniture Uzi in my hands. Legal in Virginia. Not that I'm the least surprised.

April fired her fair share of fancy guns, too. We were shooting at pieces of paper stuck to boards for the most part, but the exploding targets a friend of my father's provided were a fun novelty.

Here, Fargo looks perplexed: "Hey! Just as long as you don't mistake me for a deer!" Don't worry, Fargo, paper targets are all I'm interested in. Except if we're using tranquilizer darts--he could have used one or two of those the day he ran away from us for 15 minutes as we were walking with my friend E on her property. Her dog was well-behaved and stood there looking confused as we ran off into the forest calling out for Fargo. We were scared out of our wits that he'd fallen down a hole (Timmy, Lassie's fallen down the well!). Don't you dare do that again you silly, silly dog!

On to gentler pursuits: The night before Christmas, we snuggled down into bed for the family tradition as Rita read us Father Christmas by Raymond Briggs. This book has seen better days, but we just can't bring ourselves to buy a new copy. This year, everyone partook in the ritual:

And the next morning: presents! Yes, I have a bow on my head. In the spirit of the holidays. Just go along with it and don't ask questions.


And then there's one of Rita's masterfully wrapped presents. Believe me, this snowman is tame compared to some of her creations:

And, lastly, the family photo. Each year, getting us all into formation is a taxing, exhausting and ridiculous enterprise punctuated by lots of griping and uncontrollable giggle fits. But in the end there's usually at least one good picture...out of about 4000 takes.