Hot off the presses…Haddie’s big Halloween bash memorialized! We had more than 25 folks and babies at the party, which made for some messy, chaotic yet FUN times! Haddie was a reluctant princess; she HATED her dress. She whined and cried much of the time until we took it off. She finally perked up as everyone left and made sure to wave “bye-bye” very politely (never mind her poor manners during the party.

Anyhew, here’s a little slide show we put together!

http://www.wedpagedesigns.com/party.asp

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I love this time of year! There is nothing better than the muted temperatures and a landscape that erupts in a brilliant flash of red, orange and yellow before fading away into the grays and whites of winter. I feel a sense of urgency, like it’s our last chance to pursue many of the activities we can only dream about in the dead of winter.

Don’t get me wrong–I used to adore winter back when I had a season pass and the slopes were my playground. Now, I have no use for it. While Haddie is an intrepid outdoor lover, our activities are limited once the snow flies. Both of our definitions of Hades are being stuck in the house all day. The longer we can milk autumn for all it’s worth, the better! I’d never survive in the Motherland with its two months of warmth per year. Given that statistic, tell me the logic of my parents buying a PT Cruiser CONVERTIBLE??….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

One of the great things about having a kid is finally having an excuse for doing all the cool kid stuff! A few years back, my friend Garritt and I hit a cool tubing hill outside of Park City. We were giddy and goofy as we tore down the slopes…until we realized everyone our age had at least two kids with them. It killed our afternoon of adventure as we realized what has-been losers we were.

That said, Jamie and I had a grand time with Haddie on Saturday at a pumpkin patch party. The city of Arvada puts on this annual celebration, complete with the great pumpkin hunt, hay rides, pony rides, free pancake breakfast, and tons of cool activities. Finally, we were able to live vicariously. Though she is a handful at times, we are grateful our little Hurricane Hadley is fearless and loves adventure. She delved into it all.

During the great pumpkin hunt, Jamie’s competitive nature kicked in. He saw those other 5-year-olds storming the field and in a flash, he was gone. Something about little 30-inch people not being able to keep up. It reminds me of my brother Pat who never let his daughters win at anything. He’d be racing them and then at the very last moment, right before the finish line, he’s leap ahead, claim the victory and sing “I am the Champion, no time for losers.” And that was when they were 2 years old. It’s no wonder those girls are basket cases to this day. A future outcome for our dear little Haddie?….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Why are eulogies only reserved for those already dead? Rather, why do we not praise and celebrate the life of those while still on earth?

That said, I’d like to include my own pre-death eulogy to a dear friend who has been with me for a number of years. An ally who is near-death but one who has been a faithful travel companion and confident: my friend, my ride, my Girlie Jeep.

During my travel writing days, she was always there for me. At the drop of the hat, she was ready for our next big adventure. Whether it was blazing “Going-to-the-Sun Road” in Glacier or plowing through snow-filled La Plata Canyon in the San Juan Mountains. She has braved it all and has suffered her share of scrapes along the way.

Now at more than 200,000 km (that’s around 125,000 miles for those metric-challenged amigos out there), her bearings are burnt and her bladder is weak and leaks. Her days are numbered upon this earth and I plan to enjoy every last minute before sending her to her grave.

As would a parent tribute their growing child, allow me to share the day she grew up. A day that was memorialized in an article I wrote for Sports Guide a few years ago before I went on to summit two 14ers (14,000-foot peaks).

“Unlike most paved scenic byways, backcountry byways focus on out-of-the-way-roads that are typically gravel or dirt. Nearly two-thirds of the Alpine Loop is dirt roads, suitable for two-wheel drive vehicles. I, of course, chose the one-third that was not. My guidebook ubiquitously said, ‘high-clearance, four-wheel-drive vehicles are recommended.’ I came to realize that when traversing over 12,620-foot Cinnamon Pass, one of the highest in the San Juans, there should be a more definitive distinction between ‘recommended’ and ‘required.’

Mine sites and ghost towns dot the loop that winds between Lake City, Silverton and Ouray. I had an apparition of my own after I passed by ghost town Animas Forks when I noticed something hovering in mid-air; something that resembled the bar end on my bike. I was disconcerted to discover my bike clinging on for dear life.

I encountered the only car I would see that evening, and the man came to my rescue (I’m sure the fact I was blocking the road had no bearing upon his service). We determined it would be best to throw my bike in back. As I prepared to leave, he looked at me doubtfully. “You’re going up there all by yourself, Hon?” I nodded. “Well, watch out” he chimed before heading back to town.

Now, well wishes generally vary but they are usually along the lines of “Good luck” or even “Be careful.” His warning threw me for a loop…until I reached the turnoff for Cinnamon Pass. A precipitous and technical cluster of rocks had “bottoming out” written all over it. A very steep slope that shot straight up to the sky followed.

My Jeep has low clearance due to the running boards that serve as stepstool for mounting my bike. This has led my friend John to derisively nickname it “Girlie Jeep” (the man has no respect for short people.) As I pondered this, along with Mr. Watch Out’s warning, my fire was fueled and I shifted gears into 4-Low.

As I crawled over the next several miles, I saw my life flash before my eyes in crimson flickers, which I later attributed to my red Jeep jolting with each wallop. When I reached Cinnamon Pass, poor Girlie Jeep had become a woman.
The view was worth every painful scrape. I had witnessed the transformation from a tree-covered valley to alpine tundra, found only in the Arctic and in isolated areas in high-mountain ranges. Mottled grasses and flowers struggled for survival in the very short growing season. Gazing east of the valley, I could see Handies, Redcloud and Sunshine Peaks, three of the “fourteeners” in the Alpine Triangle.”

New heights. New woman. Girlie Jeep.

The End.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog