After more than 5 weeks with Lisa in the hospital, Miles and I were somewhat accustomed to living "on our own." Of course, that wasn't literally true. We had lots of help from both Miles' grandmothers and two babysitters, as well as Lisa's motherly guidance from the Command Center at Swedish Hospital.
As the snow piled up, however, our regular caregivers were immobilized, and communications with the Mother Ship became more tenuous. Suddenly, we really were "on our own."
But when the going gets tough, that's when the bachelors get mobilized.
For two years, the cross-country ski kit for Miles' bike trailer had sat in the garage, waiting for a nordic family vacation that had yet to arrive. Now, the snow had come to us.
The first thing we had to do was to ensure our material survival, come what may. On the morning of the big snowfall, we intrepidly set out on skis for Whole Foods, whose equally intrepid employees had somehow managed to open for business. We loaded the sled with all the necessities of life two guys could imagine needing for a snowbound week.
Back in the neighborhood, the local kids had taken prudent measures to prepare a defense against any snowball-armed invaders. Miles pitched in to help complete the igloo fortifications.
We were snug and secure in our house, but we knew that if a power outage hit, we would need to move our encampment to a place with guaranteed generator power. Fortunately, we knew just the place -- Mommy's room at the hospital! Time for a reconnaissance mission.
We set out in our trusty Subaru to scale the icy slopes of First Hill to Swedish Hospital, where we arrived in style.
Lisa was overcoming mobility challenges as well. For the first time since her admission, she was authorized to take an every-other-daily wheelchair ride in the corridors of the hospital.
We seized the opportunity to get her a breath of fresh air and a glimpse of Seattle's whitest Christmas in years.