Olympic-sized Celebrity Embarrassment

In addition to the obvious excitement of being part of the Olympic experience, I am over the moon at the prospect of meeting the greatest athletes in the world, many of whom will become household names in just a few weeks.

I have been having a few brushes with celebrity lately. I was recently invited to walk the red carpet at a special advanced screening of the movie Extraordinary Measures at the Denver Pavilions. Not only would the real-life inspiration behind the film be in attendance but also Canadian cutie pie, Brendan Fraser ofThe Mummy acclaim.

I turned it down because I already had another commitment at church.

And yes, I am expecting extra blessings for choosing Jesus over Hollywood.

Unless I happen to get struck by lightening for even writing that.

It’s not that I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of Brendan Fraser but I’ve just never been one who was wowed by celebrity. Sure, I was like the other giggling teen-age girls who lusted over ’80s heartthrobs Ralph Macchio and Thomas Howell but I never poured over the pages of Tiger Beat magazine.

At least not in public.

Over the years, I’ve had a few celebrity encounters but my most memorable was at the New York City airport. I was in a long line waiting to board when I overheard the two men behind me, “Yeah, I think that’s him…I really think that’s him!”

I turned to see who they were ogling at. Lo-and-behold, Mr. Star Wars a.k.a. James Earl Jones was waiting to board a neighboring flight to Toronto.

The men were as star-struck as a couple of giddy school girls. Not wanting to humiliate themselves, they attempted to embarrass their posterity: two unsuspecting 11-year-old boys. After much prodding, pleading, and bribery the boys finally agreed. The deal was they had to go over to James Earl Jones and in their most Darth Vader-esque voice, tell him to “Come over to the Dark Side.”

By now, we were all watching as the boys brazenly made their way over to James Earl Jones. The only problem was they kept walking right past him to a nearby Hasidic Jew who was garbed in a conspicuous black fedora. As soon as these fathers saw they had the wrong guy, they bolted over there but not in time to stop them from delivering their line to the wrong man.

Fingers are crossed I can tell Bode Miller and Lindsey Von apart at the Olympics.

Why January 26 was the luckiest day of my life

1) The official announcement that I won the Microsoft Office Winter Games Contest.

2) The outpouring of support from literally hundreds of friends and strangers on my blog, Twitter and Facebook pages. Even Microsoft Office’s publicist made a comment about it. THANK YOU!

3) That evening, I attended a media event for Visit Denver to kick off SIA (the Snow Sports Trade Show). It was there that The Woman Who Never Wins Anything proved that maybe just maybe my luck is changing.

Because I, my friends, was a winner for the second time that day when my name was drawn to win…

…an “Epic” Snuggie.

Now, excuse me while I go buy a lottery ticket.

Vancouver 2010 Games: Here I Come!

It is official: I am the Grand Prize Winner of Microsoft Office’s Winter Games Contest!

To illustrate just how shocking this is, my odds of winning were equal unto how likely it would be to travel to France for a wedding, get lost and in a car accident, ultimately missing Said Wedding.

And now I can say I’ve done both in one lifetime.

In case you have been out of the loop, I entered the contest to blog at the 2010 Winter Games for Microsoft Office on a whim after reading about it on Twitter. I filled out the lengthy application, submitted two writing samples and wrote an essay about why I should be selected.

And then forgot about it. I mean, this is me (a.k.a. Queen of Murphy’s Law) we’re talking about. I really didn’t think I had a chance.

Much to my amazement, I was notified mid-November that I was 1 of 5 semi-finalists in the nationwide contest. The last two weeks of the month were a stressful blur as I asked pandered for public votes (thank you to my wonderful supporters!) The top three would move on to the finals and Microsoft Office would ultimately make the selection.

And then I waited.

And waited some more.

Notification deadlines were missed as Microsoft Office reps worked out back-end logistics. I lost sleep and may have had a moody outburst (or 20).

Until the blessed call came. My husband Jamie was standing near the phone and commented that the caller was from Milwaukee, the venue of one of Microsoft’s PR companies.

Jamie passed the phone over to me and then I heard the blessed words: “Amber, you have been selected as our Grand Prize winner!”

This include round-trip airfare to Vancouver, a Vancouver Games press pass, nine nights hotel accommodations and a daily stipend to cover transportation and incidentals. I will be blogging here and at Microsoft’s Web site with an Acer Aspire 4810 Timeline laptop computer using Microsoft Office 2010 software.

All this for me–the woman who has never won anything.

I yelled, screamed and jumped around relishing in this ultimate taste of victory.

My children dubiously looked at me. Three-year-old Bode finally spoke: “Mommy, I CAN’T HEAR THE TV!”

In February, he’ll be hearing me all the way from Vancouver.

Superwoman Transformations and Givin’ “The Gals” Some Love

Why is this group of glorious women utterly astonished?

Hint: It’s not in amazement over my ability to hike in the snow, uphill both ways, pushing an 80-pound stroller.

After all, that was last week’s adventure.

Head over to Mile High Mamas today to see my Clark Kent-esque transformation.

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I wanted to give a shout-out to some of my travel-writing besties: The Vacation Gals. They have been nominated as finalists in the 2010 Bloggies, a huge and well-deserved honor!

I first connected with these fantastic family travel writers on Twitter. I met co-founder Jen Miner on a media trip of the Olympic Peninsula and I swore her cohort Kara Williams to secrecy last fall when I took her on my favorite secret hike outside of Denver.

These great ladies were really supportive of my bid to win the Microsoft Office Winter Games contest and wrote a generous post about me.

Now I’d love to return the favor. They need your help so please just take a minute to vote for them. Then, take a few more minutes to poke around their site and glean some of their great tips on family travel destinations. I hope to contribute more to the site just as soon as my life calms down.

Finally, make them promise to bring me along on their next adventure.

The Title of My Future Autobiography: What Are the Odds?

This blog post is not about all the great hikes I’ve been on lately.

Nor is it about my interview about Mile High Mamas with Fox 31/Channel 2 on Tuesday.

It doesn’t have much to do with the fact that the technology reporter contacted me 10 minutes before I had to drive Hadley to skating lessons. And wanted to interview me at my home immediately after her lesson.

Nor is it about how I dragged my ailing husband out of bed to help me maniacally clean the house and then raced off to Hadley’s lesson.

What this blog post is about: that 15-minute window I had after her lesson to race home and do final primps and preps to the house before the reporter arrived.

And how I chose that day of all days to lose my keys at the rec center.

That is all.

Snow Hiking With Kids in a Stroller: Putting the “Crazy” in Canuck

I’ve done a few crazy things since I moved to Colorado seven years ago.

Like that time I stayed out past midnight. Or that instance when I when I did a marathon bike ride with kids in tow, a mere month after the insanity of summiting Colorado’s highest peak.

Monday was no different. Temperatures in Denver have been downright balmy lately (40-50 degrees). I celebrated by doing some lower elevation hikes along the front range last week while the kids were in school. For the most part, the trails were clear and devoid of snow so I announced on Monday we were going to hike Chautauqua in Boulder.

I have had a love affair with Chautauqua’s Enchanted Mesa trail for a number of years and declared the area as Colorado’s best-kept secret in my family’s Tour de Colorado last summer.

But I had never experienced it quite like this.

The first thing I noticed when I unloaded the kids was the snow. An abundance of it. Undaunted, I brought out our indomitable Chariot, a four-wheel-ride stroller that defies tornadoes, hurricanes and now, snow. The trail is wide enough that after the children grow tired from hiking, I push them in the Chariot the rest of the way. On this particular day, they took one look at the conditions and opted to just ride it out.

Woosies.

I didn’t think we’d get far. The snow wasn’t deep but it was slippery and where there was not snow, there was mud. If I had any foresight, I would have brought my Yaktraks to wear over my running shoes for traction. Conditions were chilly and I predicted my Aforementioned Woosies would surely want to turn around at some point.

Oh, how wrong I was.

The terrain is gradual in the beginning and I only thought I would face-plant a couple of times. But as the trail grew steeper, so did my resolve to turn around.

“What do you guys think? Should we turn back?”
“No way, Mommy! We have to keep hiking so we can make it to our play rock at the top.”

Note No. 1: “We” actually meant “Mommy.”

And so I continued to slosh up the trail. Every time I’d rest or even hint about turning back, my Personal Trainers from Hades would voice their discontent as they proceeded to have the time of their lives. This is Bode cheering me on.


Either that, or my little dictator was doing a Heil Hitler salute.

I had been trudging up that mountain for over a half an hour when I kicked 45-pound Hadley out, thinking that less weight would make my final ascent a lot easier.

Until I noticed we were literally 20 feet from our summit.

The kids raced over to play on a nondescript boulder that is our official turnaround point. I marked the occasion by taking this self-portrait.

Note No. 2: Please ignore the residual chocolate on my front tooth that was leftover from the cookie I snarfed en route.

Note No. 3: Judge me not until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes hiked uphill in the snow pushing an 80-pound stroller.

Both ways, of course.

Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Frigidaire Worship Friendship

I’ll admit it: Martin Luther King Jr. Day comes and goes without much fanfare at my house. Even worse it that I almost forgot about it. Now that Jamie runs his own web development business from home, holidays are overlooked.

Not this year.

Be sure to head over to Mile High Mamas today to check out the list of celebrations and activities you can do with your children to commemorate this important holiday.

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As a sports enthusiast, I have been a part of numerous teams over the years but none like this: I am a proud member of Frigidaire’s Team Dishwasher.

What can I say? Life changes when you’re a mom.

We built our home five years ago. And from Day 1, I H-A-T-E-D our new dishwasher. From its screwy layout to its utter inability to wash dishes.

You know. The entire reason it was placed on this planet.

After five years of thoroughly rinsing every dish that was placed in there and only being able to use the most expensive detergents to clean them, I am getting a new dishwasher and will be occasionally blogging about it.

I was selected by Mom Central to be part of the Frigidaire Test Drive. Frigidaire introduced more than 250 new appliances in 2009, all designed with the idea of creating more time for moms. Standing behind its claim, Frigidaire offers a “More Me-Time Guarantee.” Moms will save a minimum of eight hours a month or their money back.

I’m not too worried about the time guarantee. I’m just looking forward to less tirades.

Starting today, you can log on to www.maketimeforchange.com to play Spin & Win for a chance to win prizes including a new time-saving Frigidaire Affinity washer/dryer. Plus every day you take a spin, Frigidaire donates $1 to Save the Children as part of their $250,000 commitment to this worthy cause.

Disclaimer: I wrote this review while participating in a Test Drive Campaign by Mom Central on behalf of Frigidaire and will receive a Frigidaire Dishwasher to facilitate my review.

Our bags were packed, we didn’t go

This post was supposed to be about my family’s adventures in Aspen last weekend.

How we stayed at the base of Snowmass Mountain and were swept up the mountain in a snowcat sleigh ride to enjoy a gourmet dinner.

And don’t forget about the glorious skiing and how much the children would have relished playing at Snowmass’ infamous Treehouse Kid’s Adventure Center.

Instead, I shall document my week by Facebook posts.

Wednesday

Do you know those days when you love everything about being a parent and can’t get enough of your kids? TODAY WASN’T ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

Thursday

Tip: Do not EVER complain when you’ve had a bad day. Because GUARANTEED the next day can always get worse.


Tomorrow’s trip to Aspen can’t come soon enough.

Friday

Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, it does. I was up all night with puking Bode. Canceled Aspen trip. Officially going into mourning. Trip postponed until late-February, barring yet another disaster.

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Bode started to feel better on Saturday so we salvaged the weekend by eating dinner at glorious Zengo, going for a long walk along the river and attending a free day at the zoo. I’ve always loved the polar bears but felt a kinship with them when I read their plaque: the females spend most of their adult lives either pregnant or caring for their young.


After the last week I had, I definitely knew the feeling.

The quote of the day was Hadley’s. For a bit of background, the kids are really into the whole Land Before Time series and love learning about dinosaurs and their babies. Hadley’s quote?

“Daddy, that giraffe is sitting on a big EGG!”

It was his scrotum.

“Easy-Bake” My Butt: A Cooking Guide to Every Mother’s Worst Nightmare

It is important for me to teach my 5-year-old daughter Hadley how to cook. My mom was a top-notch chef and ran a popular restaurant for many years. Growing up, I wasn’t what you would call a gourmand.

Case in point: the infamous fiasco when I misread the gingerbread recipe and added 1 cup of ginger instead of 1 tablespoon.

A minor oversight.

My interest in cooking was not ignited until after college. These days, my attempts to tap into my mother’s fountain of knowledge are met with frustration as she tries to recall her from-scratch recipes, none of which are written down nor have actual measurements.

Because evidently good cooks do not use measuring cups.

I bought Hadley an Easy-Bake Oven for Christmas. She has always enjoyed cooking with me and I figured this would be one more notch on our mother-daughter bonding belt.

How wrong I was.

I also bought her some astronomically-priced Easy-Bake cookie and cupcake packets. “Just add water,” they promised. What could be easier for an amateur epicurean?

Take it from me: Pan Roasted Wisconsin Pheasant Breast with Truffle Risotto, Carrot Ribbons and Cider Sauce would be MUCH easier.

We preheated the Easy-Bake Oven and pulled out our recipe packet. Really, our first indication that something would go awry should have been when we read that the cookie would bake in 10-12 minutes.

Not likely in an oven heated by a 0.5-watt bulb.

And yes, I did say cookie. As in singular.

The instructions said to add 1 1/2 teaspoons of water to the mix and to stir until it formed a dough. We did so accordingly and all that resulted were a few disjointed lumps. As the daughter of a from-scratch genius, I proclaimed, “No worries, Hadley! Mommy will work her magic.”
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And I did. “Just add water” turned into adding flour, butter, milk, vanilla and some more flour. Finally, it was ready and she reverently placed it in her Easy-bake Oven.

Then we waited.

And waited some more.

Did I mention the waiting?

During this time, I manged to crank out three batches of cookies in my real oven as dejected Hadley waited patiently in front of hers. After 40 minutes, it was ready.

“It” as in one cookie.

As it cooled, the next step was the frosting. Again, the instructions guided us to just add water. The result was even worse. I came to the rescue again, creating a masterpiece that would make my Martha Mother proud.

By this time, Hadley was becoming unglued. This “easy” process of adding water and waiting endlessly had taken its toll. She asked me to bring her a bowl for the sprinkles. All of the bowls were in the dishwasher so I brought a plate.

That was the beginning of the end as she seethed, “I SAID I WANTED A BOWL.”

In only an hour, she had turned into Gordon Ramsay from Hell’s Kitchen.

Then again, give her a couple of years of supplementing her Easy-Bake recipes and the kid will put chefs everywhere to shame.

Life With Three Children

Kid #1: Hadley

Every year, our church puts on a Nativity pageant for the community. In years past, it has been a pretty low-key event with beautiful music and a reenactment of the story of Jesus’ birth. This year, they upped the ante to make it more professional. They pre-recorded all the speaking parts, had a killer sound system and beautiful Christmas music playing in the background.

I was impressed.

Several of my peers were cast in the various roles and they lip synced their lines. At times, they came across a bit stoically but overall they did a great job in this amateur production.

Hadley, the future theatre critic, did not share our sentiments. Near the conclusion while the rest of us were moved by the spirit of the evening, Hadley turned to Jamie and very loudly asked:

“Is that the best they can do?”

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Kid #2: The Son

My neighbors are looking into a preschool for their son Gavin. They recently asked me how I like Bode’s school and if I recommend it. I mentioned it to Bode.

“Bode, guess what? Gavin might be attending your preschool!”
“Which Gavin?”
“Our neighbor.”
“I know three Gavins!”
“Really? Who are they?”
“Well, their names are Gavin, Gavin and Gavin!”

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Kid #3: The Father

Before we were married, Jamie was addicted to a little show the nation loves called The Simpson’s. I am not among the populace of adoring fans and cringe at the thought of my children watching its crude humor.

So imagine how thrilled I was when I discovered father and daughter guffawing along with Bart.

“No, no, no!” I objected. “It’s bad enough YOU have to watch it but to expose our innocent child to Homer?”

“Honey,” Jamie reasoned. “Studies have shown that children can actually learn more by watching The Simpson’s than Barney. Of course, the backlash of this study is the things they subsequently learned are morally wrong.”

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Addendum: Once upon a time, the following conversation was overheard while Jamie watched Chevy Chase’s Vacation with 3-year-old Hadley.

“Daddy, what are they doing?”

“Looking for a place to dispose of the body, Sweetie.”