Help arrives from Germany!

The festivities were enlivened with Ann's visit from Germany. Here Kino is providing quick indoctrination on the rigors of the inn decking process.






Signing the guest book required some close guidance.




The results were nevertheless satisfying.



Another of Kino's favorite sorts of exertion. He seems to have a running gene.

Hall decking, cont.

Floral embellishment from a San Franciscan elf!






The fourth one's Yogi's, of course.







Can you pick out the ornament that Kino made in pre-school crafts?





Hall decking's not all about the physical activity.







Dreaming of sugar plums...

Kino's motorcycle ride, Daddy's pine needle cleanup job.

With the need to wait for or assist gearing up and
mounting processes, time accounting for projects
around the inn acquires new degrees
of complexity.

Decking the halls

23 December 08

I never liked the marshmellos so much in mine, perhaps because of the sugary overload achieved with the cinnamon toast side course to hot chocolate that was part of the Irving ritual as I recall it. A satisfying slathering of the confectionary ingredient of course required a solid build-up of the butter layer, sufficiently applied to develop the desired final slurry effect.

Wonder what kinds of reverie Kino will take from his first westernized encounter of this holiday season. The stage couldn’t be set in much grander form at the inn where we’ve initiated a decking-the-halls protocol that seems in keeping with the stature of the property as the community’s premier heritage home. (That element of marketing spin is carry-over from our recently developed promotional brochures.) The decorating activity was prompted particularly by the hosting role we played to the historical society’s seasonal home tour. Many other efforts accompanied this ramp-up to the event including the completion of the downstairs bathroom, the repair of a fireplace and loading up of a good supply of firewood to stoke our primary heat source, the design and printing of brochures and business cards, the production of a Glenacres Inn line of picture stationery, and some major cleaning. Thank goodness for the resources and continuing support of all you Neills in advancing the cause in all this! Thank you also mother nature for providing the dramatic winter setting to embellish the decorative affects that contributed to big success of this latest hosting event. We are revved by it in entertaining prospects for the new year.

In this push to bring the blog better up to date Les and I will try to piece together a bit of a chronology of activity through picture posts. Doing this is of course challenged—enlivened!—by the ever-present squirm of 3 year old energy in the midst

Kino @ Westport beach 12/21/08

First day of winter

Remember real hot chocolate?

Perhaps it’s the unusual overabundance of frozen water that has fallen on Seattle this week, or the fact that Steve and I now approach life through the eyes of a 3 year old, or the season and frozen pipes. Hard to say, but the other day I hiked to the grocery store to fetch a few supplies in my backpack – temp 19 F pre wind chill, and as I tiptoed over the ice skating rink that they were pretending was a lot for parking cars, I suddenly smelled what I thought was hot chocolate – brilliant I mumbled through my iced lips as I sniffed through every aisle for one of those ladies with hair nets giving out samples and coupons.

An olfactory hallucination brought on by frost seared brain cells, or a memory triggered by the crunchiness of the snow under my boots, the sensory thrill of sliding on the road – all somehow tossed me back to the side of my mother’s stove anxiously watching a pot of milk heat while my sibs and I snuck more powered Nestles Quik into our mugs lined on the counter. The unopened bag of marshmallows torturing us.

I took a running start to better my speed as I skated down the alley behind our house, my senses overwhelmed as I flashbacked to those long northern Michigan winters and the aspects that made them livable. Deep snow drifts for burrowing, ice skating and sucking ones sodden mittens when thirsty, falling into the not quite frozen enough frog pond or bay and freaking out mom when walking in wet/frozen and of course hot chocolate.

Mom brushed us kids away like so many flies at a picnic as she poured the hot milk slowly into our mugs half filled (if I had my way and Mom hadn’t noticed) with powdered chocolate. Moms giving each mug a quick stir to mix, plopping in several white pillows and leaving a spoon in each mug. (“Nestles makes the very best… Chocolate”)

Then the real torture began, because in this era before microwaves and immediate melting, we had to wait for the ultimate satisfaction. The marshmallows became a sweet thick blanket over the hot chocolate milk, which was best eaten spoonful by spoonful, using a finger to clean up every drip and drop in the bottom of the mug.

Real hot chocolate.