The extended Linguini family is once again hitting the road under the auspices of going skiing. I must admit, we’re getting better at this.
For instance: this time I have a confirmation letter. I have at confirmation letter in my purse. And tomorrow morning I will call ahead and make sure the condos are there and available.
I have printed out directions to a decent Italian restaurant in the area. No wandering into some anonymous hole in the wall and being subjected to the bad temper of some cranky waitress. No siree.
Now there were indications that the trip may not go a smoothly as planned. But we’ve dealt with it and now everything will just flow. Flow, I tell you.
I am, of course, ignoring the fact that this resort claims to have an “Alpine village.”
“Alpine” suggests to me something more along the lines of, well, the
Okay, okay. The word is “alp-ine,” a suffix meaning “of the.” So the village is like something you would find in the
yodeling and Lederhosen. Perhaps an Oompah Band? We don’t need
skiing at all! We will yodel in our Lederhosen to the Oompah Band!
We will be Alpine!
And this time there will be nine of us. Heir I’s friend will be coming along. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear about the Lederhosen and Oompah Band!