In 25 Days

December 1st

Hello and welcome, my name is Aspen Russello. I will be your guide and narrator on this holiday escape. But first let's get this out of the way, yes I have no middle name because my Italian Mother doesn't believe in them and my Dad found it wise to not argue with her. I'm twenty seven, I stand five foot nine, with wavy caramel colored hair and eyes so blue they rival the waves for depth and variety. My build is moderate, not a fitness fanatic but I'm not a toothpick either. I do stay in shape, you need to if you don't want the waves kicking your ass. Me, I'm the poetic surfer with the killer eyes. I live in the country with my parents and sister at the families Holiday Inn. The closest water is the lake, and it has no waves... but it is the best place to go paddle boarding. Sis and I do yoga on the water now and then too.

On to the family, my mom Chyrisa she is a short four foot two and very petite a combination that comes with a dangerous to piss off attitude. She has brown eyes and I got the caramel brown brown color of my hair from her. She loves to cook and garden. She is the one that loves the mountains where we live but the inn does well enough so we can vacation at the waters edge so we surf every summer, all summer. Dad and I have even won awards.

My Dad Federico is a tad shorter than me at five foot seven, he has wavy black hair...I got the waves in my hair and heart from him but not the color. I also got my blue eyes from him. He was a heartbreaker until my mom caught him. She jokes that she has to carry a weapon whenever they go out to fight off the crazy chicks that think they have a chance. Apparently I didn't get that from him. But some of my best memories are surfing with my dad. He's gentle and wise with a firm business sense. He was raised on a farm near the coast. Dad's brother, my uncle now owns it because their parents retired to Costa Rica, for the waves. They are fun to visit every year, grandpa calls himself the surfing bull... he called grandma the surfing cow once, it wasn't pretty.

My sister's name is Rhapsody she is twenty one, with Black hair, brown eyes, and she stands a short five foot even. She has a tropical-goth style, likes the darker colors but prefers to show more skin than the cooler mountain temperatures allow. You can usually find her in knee high black military boots, short black khaki shorts and a dark colored bikini top with a coordinating color knee length sweater. Her favorite colors to wear are red, purple and sometimes orange.

Like her name hints at she is a musician. She can play about a dozen instruments and add more instruments to her repertoire constantly. She writes her own songs, she has a killer voice and according to one of my best friends she has curves for days... whatever.

As you might have guessed the protagonist in the story is Rhaps as everyone calls her. I will be telling it like it is, and explaining myself to you as well. I do tend to put my foot in it a lot in this story. Hopefully this is exactly how I remember it... but when you are the asshole in the situation you tend to not remember it the way everyone else does.

Anyway, let's start the story at the clean up from Thanksgiving where I was in a winner of a mood:

"Damnit." At this point my Mom snuck up behind me and slapped the back of my head catching me by surprise.

"Language!" She frowned up at me.

"I could pick you up and set you on that shelf, then what would you do?" She never understands my sense of humor.

"Tell your father." She raised an eyebrow at me, proud of herself. Okay maybe she does understand my sense of humor.

"Touché Mom."

"Go clean your room, your dad cleaned out the storage room to set it up as another room for the inn and he found a bunch of your stuff."

"If he is the one who messed up my room shouldn't he have to clean it?" I'm surprised I ducked in time for that one. "Seriously, if I make the mess I have to clean it up so why are you playing favorites?"