A Peek Into Our Day Off

 

You're mine, he says. 

This month, as all, has been one of the good and the not-so. The two of us carving out a day together to split a pepperoni and honey bread and sit on a mountain top, learning halfway through the first avalanche training course how to use a shovel to test the snow. Preparing for what to do in an avalanche at the same time to keep it far away. Stalled beacons, afternoon runs. Pizza crumbs to clean from the oven.

But also: pizza.

Last week, at work, I run into a woman with a brain tumor who is also homeless. I call into the pharmacy and I order her the steroid from the MD, ask what else she needs for today.

Just some words, is what she said.
Me too, is what I thought.

Extra kindness, please, I say to the social worker.

—

A Lorrie Moore quote from my journal:
“There was finally, I knew, only rupture and hurt and falling short between all persons, but the best revenge was to turn your life into a small gathering of miracles. If I could not be anchored and profound, I would try, at least, to be kind.”

"May your hands be soft & healing & always warm!" - Martin

Enjoying your day? is what Martin asks in the snow. When he draws flowers for me in the snow, when he passes the familiar cup of tea. When we’re leaving the valley, skis in hand. When we’re on our way to Guardsman, the mountain top, a sunrise.

Enjoying your day? with curious eyes.

Yes, I say.

But especially this morning, over a bowl of muesli and a cup of espresso that Martin pulled, he puts his spoon down and interrupts my sleepy impression to ask: Enjoying your day?

I am now, I tell him.

Nice, he says, takes another milky bite.

Enjoying my day.

I'm yours, I say. 

Good Vibes Only

 

Garden {Indoors}

 

Inspirational

 

Life

 

Good Days, Hard Days

While brushing my teeth, a realization arrives so quickly that I spit, fast, wipe the errant toothpaste on my bath towel and tiptoe in my house shoes down the hall to the kitchen, and I write this:

I have been evaluating my good days all wrong.

Nightly, I write a simple daily recap in my journal. It is a going-on-two-year tradition, a way to spotlight the small and to write down the good. “Spent my day off skiing. Divy was at school; Martin said, “You ski like a goddess, you can ski anywhere in the back country with a little bit of time and concentration.” 

I sometimes look back at previous years to see patterns, routines, habits I no longer keep – some I miss; others I’m happy to have left behind.

For a season, I would draw a star next to the great-great-great days, the over-the-top days where the sun beams and birds sing and there isn’t a tantrum in sight, for any of us.

A string of starred days marked last summer – mountain biking trips, parades, al fresco dinners with beer and pizza. I remember these days well.

But this winter, I am having a hard time finding the stars. The deadlines have piled and I have let myself become overworked, overwrought. It hasn't snowed in weeks it seems, and Martin and I have been playing hot-potato with Divy – You’ve got him tomorrow morning, right? OK, I’ll take the afternoon – and last month when we stole a rare date night together, I slid into the seat of a ramen eatery and said, Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever!

I am inclined to call these bad days, but I am wrong.

Bad vs. good is not the same as hard vs. easy. I have starred my easy days, cloaking them in my memory as simple, fun, happy, productive, efficient. Good.

But the good days, too, are the ones where we grow, where we struggle, where we learn, where we fight. Where we fall into bed after the world has fallen apart, where the capitol is stormed because of fraud, while we went skiing, for sleep and restoration. The good days are the ones where we get up in the morning to face another day, fry another egg, clean another bedpan. They are ripe with persistence and endurance and patience and grace and forgiveness and love, even when it’s the kind through clenched teeth.

Especially when it’s the kind through clenched teeth.

They’re all good days.

They’re all new days.

I will look at this star-less season next year. I will scan the pages and smile, remembering habits and routines I no longer keep, a shedding of old skin. I will have grown. I will have endured.

It will have been very, very good.

 

Expectant

Here’s what we have: me, 10 months of Covid, wearing a mask on a worn-out pair of ears with three opening presents boys under a pair of propped-up feet. The clock reads 3am. It is quiet, cozy, warm. Perfect conditions for sleeping – unless, of course, you are not. (I am not.)

The insomnia haze, for me, began just weeks into quarantine and stretched along until said year turns, oh 2021-ish? As such, there are entire 3-month spans in which I cannot remember the word for ketchup. I’m learning not to fight it, not to resent the bleary adjustment period where it often takes quadruple the time to find a thought, lasso it, and bring it to a page or two. Writing the grocery list feels hard enough; writing much else? Nearly impossible.

Still, my weekly journaling practice is going strong, and every now and then I find myself some of Martin's sticky notes – tucked into my car console, the kitchen drawer, my nightstand. My aim is simply to remember this season of raising kids and raising myself. I know these are the good days; I feel it somewhere in my bones. But I don’t always see them, and I want to.

I want to see what I tossed into my omelette, what the kids sang in the car, which titles I picked up on Amazon when I ran around too distracted to recognize the gravity of a beautifully ordinary life.

What I’m saying is this: I’ve missed it here.

In a month or so, there will be a two-part vaccinated nurse in our midst – a fact I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around. This was not an expected vaccination, and yet: what are expectations if not plans designed for foiling? Martin and I were in such immediate disbelief we ran through 5-6 emails in the span of a day.

And then, just as suddenly: joy.

Ever since, we’ve been rearranging long-term plans and bedrooms, folding hand-me-down t-shirts to send into shared twin-dom (Jax & Grey) drawers, foraging the internet for an avalanche airbag we’d perchance forgotten to see a month ago. (No such luck.) My mind, in minutes, dithers between “Don’t worry; vaccines are so safe!” and “OMG what if we get sick from the second-dose?” 

(In writing this, it’s clear to me that my logic skills have been stored somewhere in the depths of my no-longer-staying on my waist jeans size.)

We’re making room, all of us, at differing paces. Morgen’s campaigning to be full-time HVAC and Official Managing Consultant, taking odd jobs here and there to buy his own food and rent. Max simply wanted the assurance that the (new) used washer & dryer we gave him for Christmas will be able to fit in their apartment. I wouldn’t necessarily call him excited, not at this juncture, but there was a moment last week in which he proudly proclaimed: I love this washer more than the laundromat!

So, we’re getting there.

The boys are 25, 21, 17 and 8 now – signing up for their own classes, making their own plans. No longer are we in the land of locked doorknobs or face-down wailing in grocery check out lines. Given my predisposed inability to multitask, this feels like nothing short of divine timing. Two children exiting stage left into a world of perceived independence; one more entering just long enough to sign up for the scholarships.

The year itself has been difficult, much in the way all pandemics can be I suppose when your life becomes no longer your own, when it’s been eight months since you’ve tangoed with a dance partner, when you’re no spring chicken anymore. But I’m getting by with a few honorable mentions – couch reading, salt-water spray, and a newly-perfected creamed spinach recipe.

All else is all else: Helping Divy with science fair problems over heaping breakfasts of muesli bowls. Fueling Markus' continued obsession with hockey and the story of his injured shoulder. Planting basil in the harvest garden, photographing rainbow spectrometer's all afternoon. Pulling out face masks from the washer. There are taekwondo classes to be logged in-to, hockey games to be practiced for maybe starting next week, airbags to return, groceries to procure. 

The good days, is what I mean.

A Holiday Brunch

I used to white-knuckle my way through the holiday season. The calendar sometimes felt too thick to navigate, barely enough white space to catch a breath between out-of-town guests, Christmas programs, your fourth batch of Gingersnaps for the Cookie Of The Month’s cookie exchange.

For a girl prone to quiet and space, the bustle of holidays have often felt anything but.

But now I know better. I know to dig for the secret truths: that in a single season, what feels shiny and bright can also feel lonely and barren. That a full house is better than the alternative. That we have all that we need in each other. (That hospitality has little to do with a tablescape, although my mom brought us this darling one.)

And so: we keep our door wider than wide – for each other and for ourselves.

For those of you in need of an extra push to host in a season that feels full, might I suggest a make-ahead holiday brunch? Head on over to Williams-Sonoma for Martin's go-to croissant – no centerpiece necessary.

Sledding Into the New Year

 

My 5 Favorite Life Hacks Right Now

For the record, I’m not of the school of thought that life is in need of hacking. It is what it is – some days more bonkers than others – moment after moment knocking around together to create some semblance of order (or lack thereof). Life is life is life, and I’ve yet to witness a defective one.

But I do find that there are a handful of things that bring more vibrancy to my day, that offer joy or ease or simplicity amidst the humdrum of it all. And I suppose that’s worth sharing, if for no other reason than to stream that same momentary happiness over to your side of the screen…

Here, then, is the list!

A KID-FRIENDLY SET OF Playlists

We’ve entered the school-age red zone where all napping bets are off, so my daily reading-with-Divy window is opened, fortunately. While it is fun to cozy up on the couch and enjoy old Beatrix Potter favorites, we’ve also taken to the next best thing: children-based playlists. The iTunes app has a slew of recommendations for a variety of kids, ages and seasons (Little Drummer Boy is a big hit around here). Each have been a perfect stand-in for when it’s impossible to sit down and read aloud unless I want to find him swinging from the chandelier one room over (again).

A HEALTHY ALTERNATIVE TO TAKE-OUT

It’s no secret how boring I am in the kitchen, cooking the same recipes over and over (and over) until the rest of the family throws up their hands in protest and I find a new rotation to belabor. This used to mean fairly frequent take-out meals to spice up the menu, but this past year we’ve kicked the habit in favor of new recipes (head’s up – it’s double points at Smith's right now). The 30-minute or less dinners are usually prepped and pre-measured by me with fresh, whole food ingredients (the stuffed bell-pepper line-up is amazing), offering both a cooking lesson from Martin and an incredible meal in one fell swoop. This week, for less than a night of take-out costs, he made Hungarian pork and beef bell peppers, fresh baked bread and the best spicy banana curry ever. (Sure beats sushi in styro-foam.)

A SIMPLE JOURNAL TO TRACK OUR DAYS

I just started writing again in my gratitude diary last month and, before I cracked the old spine, took some time reviewing the last five years in my blog. From the small happenings (what we ate for breakfast) to the big milestones (births, weddings, funerals), they’re all inside. It’s been my favorite practice for a long time, and this year, I’ve started #thegoodlist on Instagram. I’ve never really succeeded at a legitimate book, but taking 30 seconds at night to document a few daily memories for life is totally do-able. I get giddy thinking about all the fresh flowers Martin has given me and hot licorice tea. (New update: I’ve been contemplating a simple and quick decor change for the mantel — a space that allows for music and conversation!)

A QUICK MID-week PAMPERING

The winter months can be unforgiving to sensitive skin, and while my friend Nicole recommended hair brushing a few years ago, I never gave the idea much thought until now (short story short: always listen to your girlfriends). While I can’t attest to the long-term benefits, I love how invigorating the increased circulation feels when Martin combs my hair, even for a few short minutes. My shower feels more ritualistic and relaxing, and when paired with a favorite body wash, the whole experience is downright indulgent.

A BRIGHTER DINING ROOM TABLE

While there’s something lovely about the taking-down-of-the-Christmas-tree in early January, it sometimes leaves the home feeling sparse and forlorn. This year, I added a simple poinsettia and a few tea lights to our dining room table and the small glow has made a world of difference. They’re actual candles, but won’t require the fire department on standby. Plus: at dinner we don't have to worry about keeping tiny fingers away from tiny flames. Win/win!

Tell me: what’s bringing you small bits of joy, light and gratitude these days? I’d love love love to hear!

reAssess The Commute

There's more than one way to get around on the snow. Outdoor enthusiast Martin, is a connoisseur of touring adventures, in our backyard and beyond. 

Ski touring, ski mountaineering, … whatever you call it, getting into the backcountry on skis is becoming more and more popular.

The idea of escaping into nature and away from the crowds—and enjoying untouched snow—may sound really good, but where do you start? There are two essential components, education and gear.

Skis

Any downhill ski can theoretically be set up for use in the backcountry, but alpine touring skis designed specifically for backcountry use usually feature lighter weight designs that make hiking uphill drastically easier.

Backcountry/alpine touring/ski mountaineering skis (the terms are used interchangeably) range from super-svelte trekking and racing styles focused primarily on uphill mobility and speed, to more freeride-focused models that offer the same massive dimensions and innovative rocker profiles as the newest inbounds powder skis. My backcountry skis offer touring features like notches in the tip and tail for attaching climbing skins. Along with low weight comes some sacrifice in another areas, usually in the ski’s ability to remain damp and chatter-free on hard snow or to resist impact damage to the base and edges like I just found out on Saturday.

Skins

Skins are ready-to-cut sections of plush material that stick to the bottom of your skis and allow you to travel uphill without sliding back down. This is because they have a ‘nap’ that helps grip the snow in one direction, and glide in the other.

Skins are made of synthetic/mohair blend that are durable and grippy, while mohair skins glide with superior speed and efficiency, but may not grip as well as synthetics. Skins with a blend of mohair and synthetic offer a balance of these qualities.

Clips at the tip and tail and a sticky, non-permanent glue compound keep a skin attached to your ski. Most skins use clips that will universally attach to any ski. Martin gave me skins that shipped with an easy-to-use trimming tool and instructions.

Bindings

Backcountry touring bindings allow my heel to move freely off of my ski while I'm skinning uphill for an easier, more natural stride. When it’s time to ski down, the bindings lock down in the heel. There are several types of touring bindings: low-profile, lightweight tech bindings that are only compatible with touring boots with dimpled tech inserts.

Ultralight and minimalist by design, these tech bindings (originally developed by Dynafit) only work with ski touring boots with tech-compatible heel and toe fittings. This binding style places a premium on stride efficiency and low weight, rather than adjustability or downhill performance. These bindings didn’t historically feature traditional DIN adjustment, but new options on the Dynafit Binding are indicative of big mountain skier’s desire to adopt tech bindings.

Other things in these touring bindings include heel risers that can give a boost under your heel for climbing steep hills. Brakes aren’t standard on these ultralight tech bindings.

Boots

Touring boots feature a walk mode that allows the ankle to pivot freely for better range of motion when you’re hiking and skinning. They also usually include aggressively lugged rubber soles and lightweight shell material, all of which make the alpine touring boot suitable for gaining altitude. A carbon cuff or tongue, lightweight plastic shell, minimalist buckle design, or honeycomb structure help reduce the weight of the boot so I can move faster and feel less fatigued during a long tour. 

Martin helped me to make sure that I was getting boots that are compatible with my bindings. A true alpine touring boot’s rockered sole is generally only compatible with pin-style tech bindings.

Like traditional alpine boots, touring boots cover a range of flex ratings. I love my boot’s flexibility on the walk or skin up which also is affected by the range of motion on the walk/ride hinge.

Poles

Backcountry ski poles are essentially the same as your regular ski poles, but they ideally will have an adjustable or collapsible design to adapt to changing terrain. For example, you may want them longer than normal for flat terrain (so you can swing them like cross-country poles), and shorter when you’re ascending steeper terrain.

Now that you have your equipment assembled, what else do you bring along? It will depend on how long you expect to be out and how far you are going, among other things. There are, however, some things you shouldn’t leave home without.

Backcountry Ski Pack

A good backcountry ski pack is tough, offers a means of carrying my skis if I need to, a mid-sized capacity, and a sleeve or compartment that’s made specifically to hold the shovel Martin ordered especially for me with it's smaller size, probe, are avalanche rescue tools for quick access. Beyond that, an extra attachment points for things like my helmet (which I would rather not wear on a sweaty ascent).

Martin can tell you more about picking the right ski touring pack.

For Christmas he not only gave me a pack that will allow quick and easy access to my shovel and probe, but this backpack may help save my life with this airbag system. If I suddenly find myself in a slide, I pull the oh-crap handle and an airbag deploys to increase my mass and help me to stay on top of the debris and minimize my chance of trauma and burial. 

Avalanche Beacon

Beacons are absolute necessities. Without one I cannot search for someone who was buried in an avalanche, and no one can find me. Some beacons have a lot of bells and whistles, but as a beginner the most important thing I needed to look for was easy and intuitive use.

However, no matter how simple my beacon may be to use, I need to practice until operation is second nature. So we are planning to go out in the snow, and bury some packs with beacons in them to practice our search skills. When things go south and lives are on the line, nurses don’t rise to the occasion, they fall back on their training. Beacons are computers, and computers are only as smart as the people operating them...

Shovel

The classic winter tool is a necessity in the backcountry as well— my shovel is used to dig test pits for snow-pack analysis and to excavate skiers in the event of an avalanche.

A plastic blade isn’t strong enough to dig through concrete-hard avalanche debris. Aluminum is the only choice for safety in avalanche terrain. Some blades offer a serrated edge or pointed shape for extra digging power. Blade size is also a factor; those with larger blades will move more snow, but are harder to manage. That is why Martin choose a shovel with a fixed-length shaft for me; a fixed-length shovel is lightweight and makes for easy storage in a backpack.

Probe

A lightweight folding pole ten feet long, an avalanche probe is used in an avalanche rescue scenario to probe the snowpack for buried skiers once I locate their general position with an avalanche beacon, enabling me to zero in with accuracy that a beacon can’t provide. This leads to less digging time and a faster recovery, which can potentially save lives.

Puffy Jacket/Extra Insulation Layer

The layers to bring along and/or wear will vary greatly depending on the weather, but even on a bluebird day, having a good warm puffer in the bottom of my pack is always a great idea. Weather can change quickly and keeping warm will be that much easier.

Extra Gloves

Gloves are a crucial piece of equipment and I have a few pairs, a thin fleece pair for skinning up, a midweight leather pair for skiing and transitioning, and an insulated, fully waterproof pair to keep my fingers warm in challenging weather.

I think everyone has their own list of necessities, one that develops out of experience. For example, I now always take a small thermos of hot tea on ski/bus trip approaches. When, after a long ski day on the hill, you find a frozen-fingered eight-year-old from the quickly declining weather conditions in the fading light, your touring partner will celebrate you as a savior  when you warm the frozen digits with your magically hot water. Point being—experience is the real teacher, and I learned this one the hard way.

Above all …

Martin has me all geared up, but, he can’t emphasize enough: know before you go. The most important things you bring into the backcountry are knowledge and good judgment. Good judgment keeps you out of trouble, and knowledge may save you if your judgment comes up short. Unfortunately, judgment only comes from experience.

So, how do you live through the learning curve? I cannot start backcountry skiing with experience, but I can start with some knowledge by taking an avalanche 101 course. Luckily, my first trip into the backcountry with my new gear took place with an avalanche expert, Martin. He made sure we were heading to a safe, low-angle zone and he knows what he is doing and is willing to teach me. Then, he signed us up to take a course next month.

Above all, enjoy! A new world of experiences awaits us.

A Family Christmas