Ok mountain people, because it is the holidays, let"s indulge in some exultation: The biggest snow pack of any resort in the world in our sights...again! Hallelujah Mo Wash!!!
In our family, like many others, Christmas Eve comes with its traditions. We all get together, load into church pews and sing new-fangled Christmas carols. It's not exactly the Monster party at the X-Games, but I like laughing at the kids bursting at the seams, their voices layering over the top of the seriousness of Latin incantation; "pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum," mixed with, "Mom, do you really think Santa will bring me a miniskirt Barbie?" But I don"t get that much from it spiritually. I am no atheist, quite the opposite in fact, I just tend to find my epiphanies in less likely places than church on Christmas Eve. However, I always look for them this time of season. As such, I grabbed the kids a few hours in advance of church, loaded into the wagon and made the trip up to Mount Washington in search of new traditions. Turns out I wasn"t the only one worshiping at the powder pew.