The Family Xmas Letter, 2024

Nice shot, Shannon!

Ho ho Hawaii! This year's Family Xmas Letter is coming to you from Kauai, the most gorgeous of all the Pacific islands according to your author who has only seen this one and that just once before in...oh gee, 2011. At the time, Gideon wasn't even crawling but used his magical combination of alluring and sticky to catch a lizard (maybe more than one, in which case, not unlikely, he ate the others before we found out). Felix, then almost four years old, was up for any adventure, land or sea, and crashed his kayak as a direct result of overconfidence (possibly not his overconfidence--details, details). In retrospect, our boys are little changed.

Anyway, we're here, avoiding the deadly surf all day and staying up listening to dog riots all night, but damn it looks good (see vacation photos, below). As for the rest of 2024, it was another one of those skibidi years in which we moved, lived in various flavors of chaos, watched our finances go haywire, and yet somehow got great things done individually and as a team but mostly individually. Read on!

QUBIT

Qubit, sock hunter

A dog doesn't change much from year to year, but fortunately for desperate Letter writers dog science runs ahead, sniffing out exciting new findings. This year, the discovery (thank you alma mater) that canis lupus familiaris process olfactory inputs using the vision centers in their woofy brains: those deep snuffles of mystery spots on the ground are the equivalent of you or I standing enraptured in front of Wheatfield with Crows...and then peeing on it. When not vandalizing priceless art you will find Qubit running back and forth in the yard in fruitless pursuit of squirrels and raccoons, the latter of which she has somehow never before noticed. I guess some dog things do change and that's it.

TALIA

Open wide!

Talia, aka "low-key funny joke mom" (reference lost, sorry, it's probably something about how she says "I get jokes" when she doesn't get a joke but who knows), spent most of the year managing our house rebuild which, from the outside, looked like a lot of back and forth to Home Depot. A tough job, it also required trips to tile shops as far afield as Lisbon. At several points along the way Talia recharged by indulging in extreme exertion, including a week riding to LA, many days hiking the Grand Canyon, and the most miserable hour of her life getting a parking pass for the Nāpali Coast (seriously, much, much harder than the trek itself). After all this she is still afraid of riding her bike downhill but has gotten well used to writing checks with a lot of zeroes.

FELIX

Air pushups

Felix, in a largely successful attempt to get us accustomed to a home without him, has been increasingly absent these past many months. Indeed, weeks go by when you'd never know he existed if it weren't for the near-continuous stream of tardy notifications sent from the high school attendance office. Still, we've managed to pick up a point here and there, mostly while picking up laundry from his floor. We know you snort-laughed back in 2020 when we commented that Felix was majoring in Bed Wars, a reference to his at-the-time-and-ever-since-then-also excessive gaming. This year he's gone pro, having been invited to take on the role of alpha tester for the ski simulator Grand Mountain Adventure. It took some effort to convince him not to include this "achievement" in his college applications, especially given the nearly unbelievable amount of other activities he had to write about, many of which these parents at least had never heard of. Happily, all (?) that work is now done and we expect to hear back from colleges shortly before it's time to write the 2025 Family Xmas Letter.

GIDEON

Arrest me

Last year we blushingly reported on Felix's first appearance in a newspaper, and this year Gideon tops that with two such appearances! Unfortunately--and here is where the blushing really comes in handy--both were in police logs. Gid, in his rap persona as "Lil' Jit," has twice now committed trespass in a quest for the perfect album cover shot. The latter instance ended with him being escorted off the Richmond Bridge by the CHP, which would have done wonders for his street cred if only someone had gotten a shot of it. Gideon is no longer allowed to dress like a terrorist but we treasure the shot above as one of the rare ones in which his clothes fit. In non-perp news, Gideon graduated middle school this year and, not to be difficult or anything, decided to go to the other high school, you know, the one that is a thirty minute bike ride away rather than just around the corner. This new school may or may not be the better choice academically, but either way it doubles the amount of parental email we have to ignore. To break up his commute, Gideon got a job at a high end importer of balsamico condimento located between home and school (the more you order the harder he has to work, so go for it!) and is now making big cheese. We imagine this work will at some point find its way into his music, assuming he can find a rhyme for "vinegar."

AIEC

In paradise you never run out of grapefruit

Sick of being called "Mr. Shuldiner" by police officers and other unwelcome callers, Alec renamed himself AIec and got a new phone, both of which turned out to be gimmicks lacking any noteworthy AI features. In a major compromise, he made himself a new pair of cutoffs that are marginally longer than the pair shown above. Having less pants feels like progress, but in general he finds everything else goes very slowly. AIec is still employed but had an excellent tanning season despite this, again, as shown above.

THE HOUSE

Not done

Is done if you are willing to use cardboard as carpeting and plywood for kitchen counters which we are so again, officially, it is done. For details, consult the relevant blog posts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 to be written.

THE VACATIONS

As mentioned above, we ran off to Kauai for vacation, a transparent and not-so-cheap attempt to win the best annual photo album contest in which we are all competing all the time. Below, our entry for the year, with an occasional shot of construction so you know what it was we were vacationing from.

That's all from 2024, a year in which politicians reached new lows while atmospheric carbon levels reached new highs. We'll see you in 2025 which, we confidently predict, will again be a year in which politicians reach new lows while atmospheric carbon levels reach new highs. Stay sane, stay safe, and stay sane!

Rebuilding, part 4

Construction? What construction?

If, like Qubit, you are equally at home everywhere (or, to be more precise, equally at home everywhere Talia is) then living in a construction site is no big deal. Likewise if you are Felix or Gid, both of whom have only limited attention to spare for their non-digital living spaces. But for the adults managing things the experience is...trying. There is the hassle of running a household when the house itself is continuously changing around you, the disruption to your work-at-home schedule, and, most annoying, the frequent and not entirely predictable presence of unwelcome construction workers on a Saturday morning. The price of progress, I suppose.

Progressive

And much progress there has been. When we moved back in mid-August the boys had bedrooms and that was about it. Talia and I slept in the barn. Without functioning bathrooms we relied on the public toilets at the nearby Town Hall and showered at the pool. Our kitchen was a camp stove and dorm fridge out behind the garage. There was electricity in a few spots in the house, and some overhead lights, but all of that was turned on or off via a single switch in the excitingly unfinished fuse box.

Bath to be

Since then, almost every day has brought some new element of normal domesticity--another working toilet, a real bed, proper flooring--with it. It took a couple of months, but we now have mostly complete bathrooms, fully functional lighting and electricity, and, as of yesterday, heating. The front doors have been delivered and are nearly ready to be installed, the kitchen is in progress with major appliances scheduled to arrive on Tuesday, and all of the exterior and most of the interior has been given its final coat of paint. Closet doors, window dressing, kitchen countertops, and doorknobs are all needed, and there is much work to do outside the house (a rebuilt pergola, a restored yard, and whatever we are going to do about our disaster of a driveway), but the end is in sight.

Early signs of normality

Are we happy with the results, such as they are? Oh yes. The boys' bathroom, and in particular their shower stall, is great, and ours, nearly done, will be too. The wood finishes are all lovely, not least the domestic hickory that now covers our floors. Our reduced bedroom feels somehow larger than our old one and, to our surprise, accommodates our king bed quite nicely. The house passed through the late-summer heatwaves comfortably even without airco, and we face the winter with confidence thanks to demonstrably excellent insulation and what we trust will be functional gutters.

Finalizing exterior paint selections

More pictures to come in what should be the closing post of this series (part 1, part 2, part 3).

Mayor for a day

When you live on Court Lane I guess ruling comes naturally. Felix, while not a king, has recently become the mayor, or rather a mayor, for the day, the first such Fairfax has had. He applied, he was selected, and, after some coaching, he was handed the gavel and told to run the show. And what a show it was! In typical Fairfax fashion, and very much for better and for worse, the Town Council, together with many of our neighbors, inducted policemen, celebrated a variety of initiatives and people, got an earful about our current homeless crisis, and on and on for over four hours. Despite a lot of mayor-directed (regular mayor, not mayor-for-a-day) sniping and what I'm sorry to report is a typical level of participant animosity, Felix maintained his trademark poise and kept things moving. Fans online and off, delighted by his pro-clapping platform, are calling for him to return, and certainly he enjoyed the experience, but whereas there's no time to get a new candidate on the November ballot and whereas he has upcoming college applications and whereas he isn't ready for his Calculus test and whereas he should walk the dog, it is hereby proclaimed that four hours of mayoring is enough for now.

Rebuilding, part 3

Dining in

We're back! Yes, as of this past week we have returned to our old-now-new home, or, more precisely, to the barn behind it, the house itself not yet having a kitchen, bathrooms, electricity, or, in most places, a floor. That makes it sound worse than it is: all that will come in rapid order and the barn, already reasonably comfortable, has been updated with a handy new workspace.

New use for old kitchen parts

The boys are both away this weekend, but will return to their old bedrooms, now with fresh coats of paint for them to dirty. On Monday the tiler comes and by the end of the week they will even have a fully functioning bathroom. Floors go in the week after, with further painting, trim, tiles in the back bathroom, and all the rest to follow. By September I expect we will all be living in the house, which should by then be fully functional...barring the kitchen. Originally not in scope, we are now slated to rebuild that most expensive of rooms entirely. The plan is 99% complete, the appliances almost nearly very sure to having been chosen, the cabinet boxes laid out, the carpenter reserved...October?

A small time capsule for future renovators

It is lovely being here, even amidst the on-going construction, and very satisfying to be entering the end phase of this project. We left in December and work has been going on with hardly a pause since then. There have been a few wrong turns, but for the most part we've made our decisions on time, coordinated well, sailed through all the many inspections, and kept our finances in order, strained though they may be. At the same time we have seen more than a couple of similar projects around us get red-tagged, and have heard any number of construction horror stories from our subcontractors and neighbors. Thank you, Talia, for keeping us safe from all that.

Excited to turn this on!

The site today looks very much like this, and the rains will come before too long. New fences and fields are needed, and we're still debating the exterior color scheme and how best to rebuild the back pergola. There's a patio that needs refinishing and some drainage still to be dug. Talia wants a garden and I want a grapefruit tree. There's a small world outside the house and that needs rebuilding, too. Let's hope the money and the energy hold out just a little while longer.

Rebuilding, part 2

The project manager

In part 1 we explained how we came to make the mess shown above. Since then that pile of former foundation has been carted away, and probably half a dozen similar loads as well--there's no getting around the fact that construction generates a huge amount of garbage. Nor that it consumes a lot of material. But to what end?

Brand new back half

Our original plan was to rebuild the back of the house, the front porch, and the roof, leaving the middle of the house (kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, bathroom) largely untouched. Along the way, however, we realized a few things:

• That moving into a new house with an old kitchen (we had planned to upgrade the equipment but not the layout) would make Talia sad.
  
• That having a new bathroom that we continued to share with the two boys (because their bathroom doesn't have a shower) would make both of us sad.
• That having our chimney collapse would make everyone sad especially if it killed someone.
  

So now every room is involved in reconstruction to some degree, if only because we've also decided to replace all the windows, all the siding, all the wiring, and now all the plumbing even in the old part of the house.

Taking down the chimney

I haven't the courage to look at the budgeting spreadsheet so am free to fantasize about the outcome. My fantasies are these:

• That I will not hear the coffee grinder in the morning (though coffee will be waiting for me when I do get up), nor the kids roistering off to school.
• That our bedclothes will now and then be aired on a deck conveniently adjacent to my bedroom.
  
• That my bathroom will be warm and lovely and mostly available when I want it, with my towel where I left it.
  
• That I will not experience a wave of panic when a guest asks if they can use the facilities.
• That when cooking we will not be poisoned by noxious gasses and particulates.
• That when the air outside is full of noxious gasses and particulates we will be safe from them inside. And that regardless of the air outside, the air inside will not be freezing cold nor sweatingly hot.
  
• That should I leave a record on the turntable it will not melt in the hot sun.

That the house will now be unlikely to catch fire (and sprinklered if it does), will stop subsisting into the earth, will run with relatively low operational carbon, and will not offend the neighbors are all good things, too.

Bye bye fireplace, hello big windows

I am also excited for Talia, who will have something more like the kitchen she deserves, a proper office, a luxurious bath, and more closet space to use in that very special way she uses closet space.

In part 3 I hope to share pictures of a largely complete project, and I hope to do so soon.

No, you may not have a mouse in the house

Adorable disease vector?

Some months ago Gideon began making repeated requests for a pet of his own, specifically of the rodent variety. We have a lot going on, so turned him down flat. There may have been off-hand talk of "once we move back into the old house we might consider it," but Gideon would be a fool to take that as any kind of promise and Gideon is no fool. Nor, of course, is he obedient or easily stymied, so we should not have been surprised when he showed up one day not with a pet but with a pet home, a gnaw-proof acrylic container he'd purchased from a store. We took it from him, along with the receipt, and got his/our money back, a clear, so to speak, restatement of our no-rodent policy.

Not clear enough: we are eating dinner one day last week when Gideon calmly mentions that he found a baby mouse and has arranged for it to live at our house-under-construction. At first I think he's joking, but it's an odd joke even for Gid and I'm simply not that lucky. So after dinner we walk over to the construction site where we find, as described, a mouse living in a shoebox. A tiny thing, it's eyes not yet open, utterly helpless...I feel a little bad telling Gid that it really doesn't have a chance: at this age, a pup needs the warmth and feeding that only a mama mouse can provide. But Gideon is certain, with that certainty of his, that it will live. Fine, Gid, here's the deal: we'll put it in the shed and if it survives the cold, cold night we'll figure out what to do in the morning.

Growing up

It survives. And so begins a week of days--and what feels like many more nights--of feeding, via paint brush and eyedropper and pool in the palm of your hand, warmed goat's milk to this tiny, frantically hungry thing, which, from one day to another opens its eyes, unfolds its ears, and, by the end of the week, is giving Qubit a run for her money in the cute department. So now we have a mouse living in our laundry sink, feasting on sesame seeds and cream cheese. It recognizes its hosts, comes out of its hay pile when clucked at, climbs your hand, and finds dark safety in a fold of your shirt while you are watching TV. Some of us--Talia, Qubit--are pointedly ignoring it, but for my own part, despite the sleep deprivation, I'm charmed.

Who's cuter?

Among Brekkie's more popular posts are the occasional stories of Gideon vs. Alec (ice cream, laptop destruction, curtain destruction). They all take the same form: Gideon wants what Alec does not and guess who wins. This story is, seemingly, in that rich tradition: Gideon triumphs again, employing focus and force of will, and by playing the long game. But this time that's only part of the story. Because this time I ended up wanting Gid to win. And because this time he lost.

Back where you belong

Store-bought mice typically live only a couple of years, and a wild mouse in the wild is lucky to live even that long. However, wild mice in captivity can live seven years or more. This raises an interesting philosophical dilemma: is it better to live your natural life, foraging and mating and fighting and mating and wandering and mating, for a single year, or to have seven years in jail not doing much of anything? I know the right answer, and Gid did too. Farewell sweet mouse, and thank you, Gideon, for arranging this very special experience for both of us.

Rebuilding, part 1

Not a firm foundation

Occasional snarky mentions in the last several years' worth of Family Christmas Letters have done little to inform Brekkie readers of what we are really doing with our home remodel, and why. It's a long story that may or may not have a happy ending, but it must start with the question you're mostly too polite to ask: What's taking so long?

We purchased the house in 2013 in what was already an advanced state of decline. The roof leaked, the foundation under the original cabin had sunk a couple of inches, the utility systems were failing, the finishes were beyond tired. Wise heads characterized it as a likely candidate for total demolition. But we were occupied by other projects (saving the barn, dealing with creek erosion, moving back and forth to Amsterdam) and by the time we got to grips with this one we'd already lived here for the better part of a decade.

Then, too, the property is a tricky one, being triangular, half in a flood plain, and bordering a creek throughout. Our first plan took a long time to develop and to get through the local planning process, but we persevered because that's what we do. That plan had us altering the footprint to accommodate both a bedroom and a narrow bath at the rear of the house, the thinking being that guests in the barn would be able to come in and shower via that exterior bathroom entry. But changing the footprint led to discussion of rebuilding larger and larger sections of the foundation, and that prompted a geotechnical engineer to add a requirement that we do a lot more creek work to protect the new foundation. Faced with a project he couldn't possibly do for less than a million dollars, our contractor freaked out and abandoned us, and we, in turn, abandoned this plan.

The house was obviously going to have to be rethought, but the garage was a stand-alone piece of work that did not require redesign. Intent on getting something out of the many tens of thousands already invested, we went back to Planning and arranged to reduce the scope to just that one building. We found a new contractor and began construction on the garage in February 2023.

Garage under wraps

The garage took too much money and too much time, but it let us get something built while we revised our plans for the house. It also let us test out our GC and a variety of sub-contractors and got us, or rather, Talia, used to writing big checks. We had momentum, and after a few more months we had a Plan B. It was obvious that a revised design would have to leave the footprint of the house as it was, a forced economy that, I think, has led us to sacrifice very little. We get a better layout for the master bath (albeit without the door to the back deck), a kitchen that is no larger but is otherwise much improved, and we still squeezed in everything else we wanted, including an additional half bath for those dreamed-of guests. We were in front of Planning again in July, determined and, it turned out, pretty much ready to begin before the year ended. Demolition of the main house began last December.

Pack me up

This, of course, left us with the question of where we would live during construction. Marin County is not an easy rental market, nor cheap, and we have some disadvantages: Qubit, obviously, and the fact that neither of us have rented in decades so have no usable rental references. We were saved by our community: the fluvial geomorphologist who designed our original creek project happened to know of a neighbor's place coming available and put in the good word. We are now living in a cottage much like ours, which is to say old and funky and mostly unheated, but even smaller--three bedrooms only if you count one of the closets (which Gideon is obliged to) and a single bathroom for the four of us. However, it is only a few blocks away from our home-under-construction, which is helpful in all sorts of ways. Moving is always a trial, and this move was arguably the worst ever, but the house rebuild started on time and has progressed well. I write from what I expect is the midway point of construction, and in the next installment will share more details of the work being done.

Race Report

He's even better in the other direction

I wrote a couple of years ago about Felix's chosen sport, mountain bike racing. He has stuck with it and, I assume, is getting better with the years. Certainly his writing has improved, which is why it is a pleasure to bring to you his report on his most recent race. Enjoy!

RACE REPORT

Race #1 - Fort Ord - March 2nd, 2024

Felix Shuldiner

With the first race of the season came the first chance to race my new bike, a full suspension Orbea Oiz that is perfect for bumpy NICA courses. Except my frame was broken. With my hopes dashed I turned to plan B, which just so happened to be forgetting my helmet at home, buying Clif Bloks en route, borrowing the team hardtail, borrowing a team helmet, pre-riding too many laps too fast, and just generally forgetting what racing is all about.

I woke up in the morning to cloudy skies and no appetite, left my hotel probably an hour before Julian left his, and arrived back at the pit zone half as early as Julian was late. The morning was off to a great start: sausages and chocolate milk hit the spot, and I scarfed down the traditional nutella bagel. I was having a great time until I heard that Julian hadn’t left his hotel yet, and was racing in half an hour. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but this year I was a captain and Julian had three other racers with him. In the spirit of looking out for my riders I did my part to streamline their paths from Julian’s truck to the start gate, and breathed a sigh of relief as I watched Julian and Tyler fly by. The rest of my morning was spent trying to stomach banana bread and walking the course counting how many laps ahead of everyone Scout was. 

Before I knew it, it was my turn to start warming up and as usual I decided to skip the rollers in favor of some pit zone laps. By the time I crossed the start line my legs were cold, but I was fired up and ready to finally race after five hours of waiting. My race was off to a great start as I caught someone’s handlebar, catching my balance I continued my first sprint and before I knew it, I had found a group and we were flying into the first descent. I passed more riders on the fast flat sections, and didn’t stop passing until I found myself alone during the second of my four laps. My second lap was the real beginning of the race for me, I was warmed up and was about to run into one of the smartest and most annoying riders I have ever raced against. Encouraged by my teammates in the feed zone, I pressed on the gas and started to catch up to Evan. I found him being trailed by a Tam rider, and together Evan and I shook him off over the course of half a lap. Feeling fast, I powered ahead trying to put as much distance between the drafting Tam rider and me as possible. All was going well until, just like every other race it seems, my chain popped off. Evan and the Tam rider whizz past me, struggling to get the chain back on and get my speed back, and Timberwolf flew past me as well. 

My mechanical lost me time, but also gave me a short break and a little of my energy back, and during my third lap I was able to catch the Tam rider again, only to discover why Evan had seemed so angry at him just one lap ago: the Tam rider was so smart about racing that his tactics bordered on unsportsmanship. “Man I’m so cooked, you should pass me I’m just costing you time” he would say, and I would pass him only to find him still drafting me a quarter lap later, laughing to himself. I tried to turn the tables but every time he remained behind me or slowed me down. Finally we came to a sharp turn into a long slightly uphill section (my best and fastest terrain) and I hit the hill hard. With the equivalent of a home field advantage I was finally able to drop him and rode the rest of my race draft free. 

I went on to lose one more position to a timberwolf who was better equipped to ride the bumpy flats and uphills at the end of the course than I was, and finished 19th in JV1 on a borrowed bike! Overall, I felt great, had a blast racing, and I can’t wait for the next one! Although next time I’ll be riding my own bike, and I won’t forget my helmet.

 

The Family Roadtrip, revisited

The road

My father was an academic, which, in his day, meant you were long on time but short on money (these days it means you are short on both), so family vacations, in those decades of cheap gasoline, were often road trips. Long road trips, with the longest of them all a tour in which some sizable fraction of our large family drove five thousand miles from Massachusetts to New Mexico and back. My memories of that Southwestern odyssey are faint and horrible; most pointedly I recall waking up in the back of a crowded station wagon on Christmas morning with gum in my hair and a view much like the one above--to a child, as bleak, snowless, and in general unChristmassy a vista as could be imagined. My father's memories, as revealed in recent email correspondence, are even fainter, though possibly more cheery. In the interest, then, of doing a better job preserving the historical record in this generation, and in case anyone might want to follow in our footsteps, here's a virtual triptik of our more recent tour of the area.

While gas is no longer cheap, flights to Las Vegas are. Our hotel offered this bizarre (in light of the Vegas water situation) view, a heated outdoor pool, and the novel (to the kids) experience of traversing a smoky gaming floor with your luggage.

Felix had contracted a non-COVID bug just before leaving, so after a morning drive through Red Rock Canyon he returned to the hotel while the rest of us headed for the Strip. Gid got his first glimpse of the Sphere, the holy place where his favorites, U2, are resident. He was also gratified to encounter an Elvis impersonator who, projecting the King to the present day, was drunk, grotesquely fat, and confined to a mobility scooter. Vegas always satisfies.

We also found spheres indoors, oversized and extra glitzy as per Vegas requirements. Gideon and I continued gawking while Talia, in a move she later regretted, detoured to the Big Apple rollercoaster.

By New Year's Eve Talia and Felix were both recovered so we set out for dinner and a nighttime view of the Sphere, which looms large everywhere you go.

It was New Year's Eve, and the Sphere provided the perfect backdrop to wait out midnight (though in truth we only made it to NYC time).

We left Sin City on New Year's Day to tour some even more impressive tech, the Hoover Dam.

We found the dam tour well worth the time: it is an incredible structure and we were delighted to rediscover the acoustics of dam-length tiled tunnels.

For some strange reason my previous visits to the Southwest had included totally skippable landmarks, such as Four Corners, but had missed the greatest landmark of them all: the Grand Canyon. We spent the next day hiking and driving along it.

There is no way to capture the majesty of this place in pictures or words (though this might help?). We came, we gawked, one of us threw a rock into it, and we left with a new sense of time and geography.

Seeing the rock formations of Monument Valley was the initial impetus for the trip: Gideon had noticed a shot on a screensaver and decided we should see it in person. How right he was. We arrived at dusk so had to save touring those distant beauties for the next day.

Our hotel--Goulding's Lodge--was nestled up against one of these red-orange buttes, however, and the same outfit ran a campground a little further on where we went to take sunset photos.

No photo editing here: sunset colors on these rocks are truly otherworldly.

And at dusk the rocks are transformed again into a lovely pink.

The next day we entered the Navajo park that contains the Mittens and other grand and bizarre formations for a cold but awesome hike.

One of the few pleasant memories from that long-ago Southwest trip was seeing (and smelling, oh the mesquite!) cave dwellings, and Talia and I were blown away by the ones we visited on Mesa Verde on our last tour through New Mexico, so we jumped at the chance to show the kids this isolated and magnificent example in the Navajo National Monument.

As a bonus we got to talk to some adorable rangers.

We took a break from all the red to see some pink (and blue snow!) at Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park. Worth the detour if you're ever in the neighborhood.

The next stop was Page, Arizona, where we took a guided walk through the over-photographed Antelope Canyon, visited the Glen Canyon Dam (no tour, unfortunately), and saw (or missed, for some of us) Horseshoe Bend. Striking red rock throughout.

Our penultimate day was spent at Zion, where, more than at any other point in the trip, I appreciated visiting in the less crowded winter season.

Having seen the best nature the Southwest has to offer we returned to the urban charms of Vegas where Gideon discovered robot-stirred boba tea.

We ended the trip with a visit to one of my favorite places, the Pinball Hall of Fame...

Where we played this unique head-to-head machine. Other than this epic battle the boys did not fight much, and at no point did anyone get gum in their hair. Roadtrip success!