I once told a coworker I needed to marry a skier.

She told me I was being superficial.

“Marriages are based on more than that.”

We no longer stay in touch. But I did, indeed, marry a skier.

My favorite days with Hubs are on the mountains- it is my happy place, it’s his happy place, and I am so grateful we share this. Mountain vistas and powder are a love language.

We had dreams of bringing little skiers into this world.

We did not bring little skiers into this world.

But we did get nephews……poor little nephews who had absolutely no idea the skier expectations from their aunt and uncle.

And then I realized that teaching kiddos to love skiing is hard. Really hard. It’s filled with early mornings, cold hands, sore feet, hauling gear and thoughts of ‘why are we doing this?’ from both adults and kiddos.

And then they get it, just when everyone is about to give up; the feeling of flying, the magical ‘shoosh’ down the mountain, the cries of ‘whhhhooooopppppeeeee’……and your Auntie heart grows ten times; ten times by ten.

My auntie heart grew ten times this weekend. Our youngest nephew, the one we weren’t quite sure if he would love skiing, fell in love with skiing. Like any love affair, this process was fraught with uncertainty, a little fear and finally, joy.

Some of this may have been my fault.

Youngest Nephew (YN) and I were skiing on Saturday- it was time for lunch and we started making our way back to the house for a sammie. The road back was a blue run aptly named ‘Home Again.’ Another skier told me it was a mellow blue, something we could easily manage.

Pshaw.

The first couple of turns were just fine and we slowly made our way Home….Again. We stopped as the road curved and the slope seemed to disappear, meaning it’s a bit steep. Holy Schmoly, not only was it steep but it twisted sharply to the left; over the curve was the ski area boundary and a significant drop-off.

I may have whispered an F-bomb or two.

The nephews call me Hehe, a nickname I love but when YN whispered, “Hehe, I’m kinda scared.”

I may have whispered another F-bomb.

“Buddy, I get it. But I am not going to let anything happen to you and we are going to get down this.” I told myself to pull it together and placed YN between my skis. I made a giant wedge from hell and we slipped down what was supposed to be ‘a road’.

We got down the first pitch.

“I think I need a rest,” said YN. And so we rested for a bit.

Home Again continued, slip, ski, rest, thank my doctor for a great new knee, kiss my gigantor quads. At one point we sang “You are my Sunshine” which was Samantha’s song, which made me cry, so we rested a little more.

It took us an hour to get Home Again. At the end, the road finally mellowed a bit and YN found this tremendous confidence. He was skiing, stopping, singing, and giggling.
We got to a fork in the road and took a rest. “Buddy, I am so stinkin’ proud of you. That was hard and scary, and you did great, bring it in.”

We exchanged a big bear hug. “Yeah, that was hard but kinda fun. I knew I could do it.”

He skied to the house just in time for Hubs, Popsie and his big brother to see his amazing finish. They cheered as he came to a perfect pizza stop. He casually took his skis off and went inside for a turkey sandwich.

I took my skis off and collapsed in a ski bank. Popsie found me later, “You okay, Hehe?”

We did not do Home Again, again, instead we did laps on a wide, very open blue run until the lift closed. When the slope mellowed, YN would tuck and put his arms behind him. “Whatcha doing, buddy?”

“This is how all the fast skiers ski……..Whoooopppppeeeeee.”

There are moments in life you will remember forever. This was a moment; when YN and I made our way down Home Again.

Ahhhhhhh. Happiest of Valentine’s Day dear tribe!

On this day, I want you to know that I love you.

Truly.

In the words of great 80’s icon Howard Jones, ‘What is love anyway? Does anybody love anybody anyway?”

I say yes, HoJo. Yes.

Inspired by this song, I looked up love in the dictionary.

LOVE:

• A strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties
• Attraction based on sexual desire (easy there Webster)
• Affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests
• Warm attachment, enthusiasm or devotion
• To Cherish
• To Thrive

My favorite is to thrive……love….love makes us thrive.

I LOVE spending time with you. I LOVE my community….,,you…..you help me to thrive, to grow, to reach beyond who I am.

Love is a connection.

And what are we without that?

Valentine’s Day promises us chocolates, flowers and fancy bling.

I hope you find more……a hand to hold, a friend to call, a sacred moment to yourself…..a hand written note…..connection.

Happy Valentines Day dear tribe. Much love.

I love New Years.

I love Vision Boards.

I sit on the floor surrounded by old magazines, a pair of scissors, puffy paints, glitter, glue stick and stickers and create a vision for your next year.

I know. Super Cheese. I spent three hours today Vision-Boarding my next 365 days. And according to my vision board, 2023 is going to be amazing.

I say the above with about 50% jest. I do honestly take this time to think about what worked and what didn’t work last year. And although I might not change, I ask myself what I want to focus on in this next year? What can help me get there?  I pull out quotes, memories, reflect and dream.

It’s a lovely ritual- a needed break from the Christmas frenzy.

I always finish the holidays slightly askew.

My life is strewn about like remnants of ribbon and wrapping paper, munching on a green sugar cookie in the shape of a sock, wondering where things went wrong after Halloween.

This is my time to reflect and regroup.

2022.

Recover

For me and my tribe.

From a major surgery- to finishing 2022 in my happiest place, knee deep in powder and pain free.

To our community recovering from a fire that tore through our town

For a friend reeling from an unfathomable loss

Recover.

It takes time to recover. It takes reflection, a focus on healing, an eye on hope. A belief that our worst times will not define us.

Recovery takes our loves raising us on high.

And raising our loves in return.

It took three hours, 8 magazines, and a bottle of glitter glue to pronounce, reveal and reflect on this year and bundle it into some sort of package.

Recover.

Sometimes recover is peppered with platitudes; ‘bounce back’, ‘stronger than ever’, ‘overcome’.

But what if recover is coupled with time, relax, regroup, meditate, lean in, search, listen, embrace imperfection.

2022 taught me a lot. I lift my head above the garland, tinsel, leftover sparkle and greet the New Year with an extended hand

To the opportunity to recover and the gift of another year.

I do love Thanksgiving.

I love hosting Thanksgiving, gathering around a meal, the challenge of a massive bird, a holiday that has only one objective…. dinner….so you better get it right.

My Thanksgiving is never perfect, there is always one dish that goes awry and the meal is always late. This year cooking a 21-pound turkey turned out to be an experiment in heat conduction and a quick dissection/ biology class. The kitchen is still covered in a thin film of turkey, and I think I see whipped cream on the ceiling.

No matter. Dinner was served.

Around mid-October I dove into my Pinterest account to see how whimsical, and Thanksgiving-y I can possibly be. The night before Thanksgiving I am wondering what mid-October Heather was thinking.

I did manage to create this little gem

Behold the tree of gratitude!

It’s kind of like the Festivus Pole- although there was no airing of grievances.

But there may have been a Feats of Strength! I’m still not sure who won the ‘Old Guys vs. Kids’ football game.

After the last piece of pie was served and the turkey was tucked away, I had a chance to read through the Tree of Gratitude- I love what my amazing Turkey Day Tribe was grateful for:

• My Cousins
• Friends and Family
• Family, cats and bread: seriously….I cook a 21 pound bird and bread???? Alas, second graders.
• Bread- Again. Bread- next year I’m setting out a pack of Hawaiian rolls and letting you all go at it.
• Bread, not school
• Heather! Aw……I don’t know who I bribed but the check is in the mail.
• True Friends- and my daughter
• Friends, family and health
• Getting together with everyone
• My body’s ability to move
• Being surrounded by love, great food, being in a beautiful home (aw, thanks) and good health

Bread clearly is the winner- but I think my nephews and their cousins hijacked the tree.

During dinner, I stood up to toast, surrounded by family; Hubs, Mom, Dad, Stepmom, Stepdad, Brother, SIL, Besties……

And I had to take a moment and shed a tear.

We are far from perfection or the family you want to emulate….at times people have looked at us with one word…..oof.

But at that table, surrounded by family, love and (of course) bread……the word gratitude is not enough.

Whatever the word may be, may your holiday be filled with it.

Happy Thanksgiving Dear Tribe.

Hey Dear Tribe:

This weekend finds me at a Writer’s Retreat. Here’s a little something that has been brewing:

The Heart, the fearless worker.

The committed soldier with one job.

Keep it going. Work the pump

From the first sign of life to the very last beat.

The heart carries on.

Steadfast, determined, unthinking, unemotional, the heart.

Contrary to our love and lore, the heart does not get lovesick.

The heart does not break after a torrid affair.

It is not heartfelt, whatever emotion you seek cannot be found in the bottom of your heart; your heart does not desire.

But buried deep within its chambers, encased by bone and cages of rib, deep within the chest, the heart carries on.

Keeper of the blood, mover of life, the heart has one job.

When the brain is sad and tired, pockmarked with trauma and emotion, the heart beats.

For the broken sad mind, the heart is relentless, unshaken by tears, unencumbered by emotion.  

A world may be shattered but a heart carries on.

I had a ridiculously fun weekend. I danced way too much for my poor new knee. I sang loud and off-tune. I gave my nephews sloppy kisses. And I found myself back in the beautiful mountains so close to my home. It was a joyous weekend.

Ridiculous Joy is a funny, lovely, unsustainable thing. Sunday night I iced my knee and tucked myself into bed. Monday morning found me trying to fit back into a schedule with the sweet scent of the weekend still in my head.

Ah- Joy.

I try hard to find joy.

And I must confess, I think lately we as a society look a little harder for joy.

I was talking to a friend today as we discussed the quest for joy.

“I had my life in 2019 and then Covid came along. And I hunkered down and waited for my life to return. And now we are back. But some of the things in 2019 that worked, no longer work. I ironically find that I must reinvent myself yet again.”

Reinventing is fine but it must be recognized and attention must be paid. Where do we find our joy? How do we find our joy? The Rowdy? The Quiet?

As I left for the weekend, I checked the stove again and turned off the water. I locked the door and armed the alarm and I realized that I’m a little more anxious about leaving home.

Home.

Home which had become a safe sanctuary the last couple years. Home- where after 50 years, I found joy in the quiet.

And I left it to embrace the rowdy joy of sloppy kisses and dancing crowds.

Tonight it is quiet other than a very persistent cricket. The sun has set and their is a hint of Fall in the air. The sky is peppered with orange and purple clouds.

Perhaps joy is not fleeting- perhaps it does not have to be rowdy or quiet, it can be both.

Perhaps joy can be found where we take time to recognize it.

This is a great song by the Pixies if you have a chance to listen.

It’s been a while since I have posted.

A new knee and six weeks of rehab since I have posted.

And where is my mind?

It’s better….but I have learned quite a lot about myself along the way.

When you recover from surgery, you spend a lot of time with you. You in a compromised state, you in pain, you not being able to swim, you waking up in the middle of the night, you and your crazy head.

I’ve had surgery. But this surgery has been pretty intense. I told this to my surgeon the other day and he did confess, “well I did take a saw to your leg, didn’t you watch the videos?”

No, no Mr. Surgeon. This would not have happened had I watched the videos.

And six weeks out, I am happy to report that I hiked two miles yesterday. I am healing. I will be back.

Two days before Mr. Surgeon took a saw to my leg, a friend asked my how I was doing.

“Not great,” I said. “I’m nervous about Mr. Surgeon taking a saw to my leg to remove my knee. It’s three days before Samantha’s birthday. I can’t be at the Courage Classic. I had to move this whole thing because I got stupid Covid. The last time I was so vulnerable was when I was put on bedrest because of Jack and we all know how that ended.”

Where is my mind?

Oof! I know you all are thinking…… never, ever ask Heather how she is doing two days before surgery.

And in the process, I have once again had to lean back on you…….and I thank you. The meals, the notes, the flowers, the cookies, the texts on Samantha’s birthday and (ironically) the week later when we lost her………the kidnappings so Hubs got a break, pizza dates with Mrs. PacMan, and an 18 year wedding anniversary with a new knee.

I could not do this on my own.

And I thank you.

This weekend I hiked 2 miles with amazing friends. I may have danced to a Grease sing off……

Summer Lovin’ had me a blast…..

No, I really did NOT have me a blast this summer.

But ya’ll got me through….even if you did not know it.

And for that dear tribe, I am grateful.

thank you.

13 years ago my life looked very different- it was the Summer of 2009, Samantha was on day 14 at Children’s Hospital and I was trying, very, very hard to train for the Courage Classic. I would ride from the hospital. I took the elevator from the 8th floor in my helmet, cycling shoes and super-flattering bike shorts, grab my bike from the car and take a cruise around scenic Colfax and 225.

Samantha was sick. Thursday before the ride she was still in the hospital and my chances to ride looked iffy. On Friday evening, we were finally discharged, with the caveat that if anything looked suspect, we would head back down the mountain.

We unpacked that Friday from the hospital and packed again for my ride.

We left Saturday morning at 5:00 to drive to Copper.

I got a migraine an ugly bout of diarrhea on the way up the mountains.

I don’t know why this ride was so important. But it was. Perhaps it was my time to prove I was still alive. I had spent months in the hospital with our girl. I needed to climb a mountain. I needed to find my breath.

I rode the entire tour.

Upon our return, Samantha ended up right back in the hospital.

But I did it.

And I sobbed when we finished.

Since 2009, this team has raised over $1MM for the Mitochondrial Clinic. Yesterday I sat at Panera with our doctors and they stated, quite clearly, “The goals we set ten years ago have become a reality. This money from Summits has made it happen.”

The Summits team will ride on Saturday.

They will ride without me.

This year, I am the patient.

I am a grumpy, self-pitying patient.

It was hard to bow out. It’s hard not to be up in Copper with the people I love.

It’s hard to put my knee ahead of my FOMO.

It’s hard to put my knee ahead of the feeling I get when I climb these mountains, when I find my breath, when I see my girl in the vistas.

This year, I am the patient.

Because this year, I no longer feel strong when I climb. A bike dismount is followed with concern that my knee will support me. A ride is coupled with a struggle to climb the stairs the next day.

Maybe I’m back where I started 13 years ago. Needing to find my breath again, prove my strength, find my moxie.

It takes Courage to know where we are and what we need.

This is what I am telling my grumpy, self-pitying me…..that she is courageous.

I still don’t know if she is buying it.

But next year will be different.

PS- I am still fundraising for our clinic! You can donate here!

Privileged, empowered, white, upper middle class, 50ish female. This is me.

You could call me a Karen…although I hate that term and feel bad for my friends named Karen.

It could have easily been a Heather meme instead.

“OMG she is such a Heather.” Because I kinda am.

But I know who I am.

I stand on the shoulders of proud generations before me. People who have fought for my freedoms. People who enabled me to devour this life before me. I have grown up lippy, opinionated and loved. Perhaps the last variable is the most controversial…..I am vocal because I feel safe and because I feel loved.

It’s easier to be lippy when you are loved.

So I will.

I struggled this 4th.

Because I don’t understand what it means to be an American anymore. This is not a left or right thing…..this is a who are we thing? Are we really a gun toting, forced birth, climate change denying country?

I recently read an article that said, “America is more about a dream than a place.”

I read that to my husband who said, “what a cop-out- of course we are a place. We are a country with a GDP of $20.95 trillion. This is a place.”

So, if we are not dream. And really a place…..I feel a tad more unsure of where I belong.

Because in this last week we (the collective American We) forced a ten year old rape victim to travel to Indiana because no one in Ohio would perform an abortion.

On a ten year old….who was raped.

I should read the story above about a third world country. I should drink my double espresso with foamy oat milk in the shape of a heart and shake my head but not be surprised….because I’m an American….and this happens in other countries but not here.

Oh wait.

And I like Ohio….really Cleveland is lovely. Don’t make me reconsider my Skyline Chili in Cleveland!

On the 4th, we drove to my mom’s to celebrate this great nation. And we heard about another shooting in Highland Park, Il.

Highland Park….an incredibly affluent suburb. Home to Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller and Risky Business. Highland Park is my personal Columbine, before Uvalde, before Buffalo, before, before.

And I’m not an extreme progressive. I am not woke….ask my nieces and they will tell me that I clearly do not know my pronouns.

I am not super liberal.

But this is not my America.

On the flip side…..I am……I am…….super lippy and super loved and soon to have a super knee.

And I make mediocre parade signs. And one thing my generations before have taught me, is that this is still my America, even when it feels as scratchy as a wool sweater lined with sandpaper……

As the great George Washington. once said, “Winning was easy, young man. Governing is harder.”

May we Govern better, listen to the voices.

And may this be our non-partisan pic one day…..filmed in Highland Park, IL.

My article around a local brewer was just published. I’m really not a beer drinker but this was fun to write. Clearer text is below the article.

Lets meet for a beer!

What is Kyle Brewing in Candelas?

Colorado is known for its stunning natural beauty, sunny days, active families, and great craft beer.

Kyle Larkin wants to make sure the residents of Northwest Arvada can embrace the magic and creativity behind great craft beer.

Kyle is the head brewer at Resolute Brewing Company, located at 18148 w. 92^nd Lane and we’re pretty happy he’s here. Originally from Pennsylvania, Kyle took a detour to DC before he found Colorado and decided to call it home.

Kyle started homebrewing in college and found a passion for it. After a short stint in the business world after graduation, he decided to become a professional brewer and never looked back. Part artist, part chemist with a little touch of foodie, he finds his inspiration after years of experience, knowing great ingredients and cooking.

“It’s fun to taste flavors in food or cocktails and then try and put that into a beer.”

The love of food pairings is apparent when reading the beer menu; ingredients such orange, passion fruit, coconut and chocolate reveal the complexities to brewing. Beer is barrel aged, temperature and humidity controlled enabling Kyle and his team to create wild and delicious recipes.  

Kyle started brewing at a small brewpub in Pennsylvania. This took him to Troegs Independent Brewing in Hershey, PA. Word travels fast in the brewing industry and soon he had an opportunity brew in Washington DC, working for DC Brau and starting their barrel aging program.

“Living in the nation’s capital was great, but my fiancé’ and I wanted to experience somewhere new. After considering different job offers, I ended up accepting a position with Avery Brewing so we could be in Colorado. From Avery, I worked at 4 Noses Brewing before joining Resolute.”

Resolute doesn’t only brew beer, its hopes are to create a gathering place for the Northwest Arvada community, “It is Resolute’s singular hope that we transform our community into a family, driven to create vibrant relationships around the brewery. We hope that lives are changed based on the friends made in the taproom, and that charity, hospitality, and kindness flow out of our taproom along with our beer.”  

Kyle runs the production side at Resolute but he does so much more than produce beer. The 20 beer lines change depending on the season, new ideas and unique varieties. Master Smash is a recent creation, an IPA brewed with Genie pale malt from Root Shoot Malting in Loveland. This balanced bitter IPA features notes of pineapple, mango and touch of pine, because it is after all, Colorado. And just in time for Summer is the Mexican style Lager, Onda which pairs well with salt, citrus and Colorado Sunshine.

There are a few traditional flavors that are a constant at Resolute. These favorites can be purchased as six packs and shared at your next bbq. Artwork on the cans reflect what is best about Colorado. The Standing Room only beer can depicts a concert at Red Rocks and might inspire a lengthy conversation with a buddy about the best Red Rocks concert (for the record? It was U2, Under a Blood Red Sky but I’m open to a debate).

All the Fuss Lemondrop Sour takes you paddle boarding; the aspen are turning and there is snow on Longs Peak. Grill Sauce portrays a young couple in their backyard with the Flatirons in the distance. The artwork is so beautiful, you might not recycle your can. And even better, the beer inside the can is delicious.  

Resolute focuses on community, craft and culture. “Our Founders come from various walks of life, including finance, engineering, and accounting, but we resonate as one around our passion for community, great beer, and even greater people. Resolute is more than a brewery; it is a community of people and families enthusiastic about being a part of something bigger than themselves. Resolute’s employees and culture imbue hospitality, social responsibility, and a love of the craft.”

This community of people has made Resolute a hub of Northwest Arvada activity hosting yoga, live music, farmer’s markets and tasty food trucks. Trivia is hosted every Wednesday night. Resolute has partnered with the Candelas Running Club. The group meets every Thursday for a run and then relaxes by the fire pit with their favorite ale or lager. July will feature a Cars and Brews Auto Show. Check their events page for updates and a schedule of food trucks.  

The vision of great beer, great community and giving back has been a recipe for success as Resolute continues to grow. “Our current mission is to continue to make Resolute a spot for people to gather and have a good time while delivering the best beer we can. In five years we hope to have a third location open, which would serve as our main production brewery. This would allow us to increase our production volume and get more beer to people around the state and grow our community.”

When asked what advice Kyle would give to a new business owner, he says without hesitation, “Be passionate, follow your plan and listen to your employees.”

And the success behind this business? “Quality above all else.”

We are so excited that Kyle decided early in his career to pursue his passion, provide this community a tasty brew, a place to gather and enjoy.

He and the team at Resolute raises a glass to thank the community and sponsors of Neighbors of Northwest Arvada. “Thank you for all of your support. We hope to share our beers and our space with you all for years.”

And thank you Kyle for sharing your story and the creativity behind your craft. We will see you around the fire pit this summer!