I'm loved


Anybody who knows me well knows that I really don't have much time for sentiment and mementos. I mean, come on, I'm the girl who traded in her wedding ring for something something a bit less traditional after three years of marriage. When the house was burglarized all my jewelry went missing. All except the wedding band I had on my finger. Our insurance claim replaced the monetary value of the trinkets and I've been looking for weeks in jewelry stores and online for replacements. For some reason though, I just didn't feel right about swiping the credit card. I realized that it isn't the jewelry as much as the associated memories.

There were the earrings that my Dad gave my Mama on my day of birth. The charm bracelet that was my Grandma's, given to my Mama, and now mine. The charms had slowly been added as the years went by. There was the necklace from Grandma Avis, an opal necklace with a little bow setting, that thrilled my ten-year-old heart and remained special because it was our birthstone and I was her birthday buddy. There was the beaded pearl necklace that my parent's brought back from China when our little Miss Kayce came to be part of our lives. There were the pearl earrings with a matching pendant necklace that was given as a symbol of purity when I turned sixteen (like a promise ring with a touch of class. Not really sure if people are still doing the whole promise ring thing anymore). I wore the setting with pride on my wedding day four years later. There was a turquoise bracelet that I bought on a family trip to Taos, the trip in which I decided that I could imagine myself married to this guy named Denver. There were the earrings that Denver gave me our first Christmas together, as we shivered in our cute little cabin on the river. There was the necklace with multiple charms my sister designed for me as an apology and replacement. I always felt a touch guilty when I wore it, the necklace was so much cooler then any of the junk she lost. I've come to be rather familiar with the value of sentiment. Something I never really understood or cared to think about until recently.

My husband loves me and observed that I was bummed. I came home from work yesterday, went directly to my side of the closet, like I always do, to find some post-work clothing and there was a little Sundance box. I went to the fridge, like I always do, looking for a snack and there was another Sundance box. Later that evening, I went for a cup of tea to go with a cookie, like I frequently do, and found two more little boxes. Just before bed I brushed my teeth, like I always should do, and found another. I'm glad I decided to marry that "guy named Denver" and I'm glad he has good taste.

I have new pieces with new memories. Starting fresh with a good reminder that I am very well loved.

Diamond Peak


The sun never really made an appearance on Saturday. Leaving all of Friday's slushy goodness a crispy mess. Our season passes are blacked out on Saturdays, so with a free afternoon and nothing better to do, we decided to brave the backcountry mess. When we pulled up to the trailhead I jumped out of the truck to test the snow. Denver watching me poke at the crusty snow commented "I always hate when it turns out to be as terrible as I imagined." We sat in the truck for a while remembering the times we've driven all the way to some empty trailhead only to decide that the conditions were even worse then we imagined and drive home. Never really sure where our decision making failed. Eventually though, we left our warm comfy seats and geared up. Convincing ourselves that Diamond Peak was one of the shortest skins possible and that the descent, however terrible, could only last so long and that our hearts could really use a little exercise.

The view, plus the fact that it started snowing at the top, made up for a world of terrible snow conditions.

Castle Peak Rerun

More sunny skies and slushy snow in the backcountry

Breanne working her way up the steeps