Y is for Yesteryear

Yesteryear – sometimes feels like yesterday.  Bygone days, days of yore.  Well, in this case, not exactly ancient history, but often time out of mind.  Maybe when my kids remember this they’ll think of it as the good old days.  Or a brief part of their miserable childhoods.  But I hope not.  We had some happy times.

These little scenes of yesteryear are brought to you courtesy of the big red van that took us south and west to the mountains where we spent our family holiday ski weeks.  The body of the van was a piece of junk when we got it, and an even worse pile of crap when we were done with it, but in it’s glory days it was all fixed up to be practically luxurious.  Because W worked on it relentlessly until it had new windows and plush new captains chairs and panelling and privacy curtains and a sky light and a bright red paint job.  I don’t even want to think about the amount of money we poured into that thing, but it went a lot of miles for us and it carried a LOT of stuff.

In the parking lot, after the morning ski, breaking for lunch.  Open up the back doors, and voila – instant outdoor bistro.

Our chauffeur, the infamous W.  We spent all the moola on the vehicle and ski lessons and lift passes.  None left for hair cuts.


Kids being kids…give them enough snacks and they’ll stay happy for miles and miles.

Mom being mom.  Probably being asked something cute and endearing from the back seat, like “Can we please skip lessons and just ski all the black diamond runs tomorrow??”  Have to love the ski hat hair and the fat lips.  I always got cold sores from the cold and the sun, so that could be why I look like I’m having the least fun of all of us.

Still, I remember those trips with nostalgic pleasure.  Looking back, never to return.  Filed under Y for yesteryear in my little box of memories.