I know that dieting makes me and everyone within a 26-mile radius of me crabby. Having tried, and failed, over the years to diet, I now employ these tried-and-true methods.
Nothing says “I love you” like a gun. Yes, a gun. Christmas is months away and my 14-year-old son already is badgering me to buy him a gun and put it underneath the tree.
In my next life, I want to come back as a Pearl Izumi girl. How do you get such a job? What do you put on your resume to land a job such as this? “Career objective: professional smoocher."
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: When did everything get so complicated? For example, remote controls. I think there are at least five remotes to our TV. They work for other members of my household but not for me
I have my life back, and I don’t want it. Let me explain. My son, the child formerly known as Peter, has morphed into a teenager and doesn’t need me anymore. He prefers hanging out with his peeps instead of me.
Raise your hand if you understood the debt ceiling debacle. Me neither. Oh my goodness. What a long, drawn-out process.
At a recent dinner party the term “Nouveau Local” came up. The eight of us sitting around the table were all longtime locals, and we were reminiscing about bars gone by. Once upon a time, there was a great bar called the Steamboat Saloon where everyone went post-rodeo to dance with the cowboys.
I love summer. I do. All winter, I think about the perfect summer weather in the Yampa Valley: cool mornings, warm afternoons, nights that still allow a blanket. I dream about swimming, strawberry rhubarb pie, smoothies, puttering in my garden, planting flowers, eating outside and my favorite hikes.
You bait the hook,” I say to my brother, handing him the fishing pole. It’s part of our unspoken bargain. I get the fishing licenses, drive, untangle the lines, but I can’t bait the hooks. He doesn’t say anything, just takes the pole, opens up the Styrofoam bait box and does it.
If you have more than three quarts of paint in your garage, dust off your tiara and get ready to preside over your kingdom! Few things in life are more confusing than choosing a paint color. Looking at a paint chip in the store is an exercise in futility. Buying a quart of it to take home will be the start of your reign as a Quart Queen
The one thing that hasn’t changed is being popular. Being popular, as I recall, consumed my thoughts during most of my waking hours. It was hugely important to me, and judging from conversations with my son, it still seems to matter. A lot. Ugh.
You still have some room for improvement, let's review your performance
Here at the world headquarters of my property management business, the House Nanny, it is time for performance evaluation of all employees. It is an annual review I conduct just to make sure all expectations are clearly defined and everyone is working up to their full potential.
I'm already ready for next year
Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack. The fresh smell of morning dew combines with the welcome aroma of coffee. A swirl of yellow, blues and red spins around me. Diesel semitrailers fire up as volunteers finish loading luggage. There is nothing graceful about trying to walk in road bike shoes.
As the first rays of morning light filter through their tents, Bob Elken, 78, and his daughter Kari Pollert will crawl out of their sleeping bags, pack up their gear and clip into their pedals for the start of Ride the Rockies. The first stop? Coffee.
Dear Mother Nature, wasn’t more than 400 inches of snow enough? Do we need even more moisture? Do you like looking at a line of sandbags lining the Yampa River? I am beginning to molt, and I refuse to buy an umbrella. They are probably all sold out anyway.
Thanks to a new trend, anglers are finding a plumage shortage
Thanks to a new fad, women are causing some ruffled feathers in the fly-fishing industry. Yup. The fad is feathers. Women, and Steven Tyler on “American Idol,” are wearing feathers in their hair. Plumage producers can’t keep up with the demand. Simply put, there is a feather shortage.
Packing, planning and patience are keys to sanity
One of the challenges of living in paradise is that, when it comes to your children’s sporting events, you are light years away from another team.
Remember the power of mothers every day
Fourteen years ago, if there were an award for “Exhausted, Confused New Mother,” I would have won. When I wasn’t nursing or changing a diaper, I spent large blocks of time in my bathrobe crying, or sitting on the couch staring vacantly into space.
Steamboat’s mass exodus creates a community of refugees
Back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, people sent postcards when they went on vacation. Now, of course, dinosaurs are extinct and so almost are postcards. People can now tweet, text, blog or Facebook their adventures, and post every memorable moment instantly.
The shenanigans have begun. The presidential election is still 20 months away, but presidential hopefuls already are launching websites and personal attacks. I have big news. And I do mean big. There is a new electorate. Bathrobe moms.
It is time to set the record straight on the weather. No one has a clue. Not me. Not you. And especially not the weather forecasters. The weather, just like a 3-year-old, has a mind of its own. It will do whatever it wants, when it wants.
According to a new book, “Moonwalking With Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything,” the secret to remembering is a “few tricks and a good erotic imagination.” The secret to memory, it seems, is that handsome men can help you remember your grocery list.
Ho-hum. I am so tired of the phone calls, the e-mails, the media attention. Once again I appeared on the cover of the AARP Senior swimsuit edition, and the press and public cannot leave it alone.
Dear Internal Revenue Service; Taxes, taxes, taxes. What else do people think about this time of year? I know you are busy processing the returns of organized people who already have filed, but I have a few suggestions.
Psychosis leads to bike commitment
Spring training is here! In a moment of temporary psychosis, I wangled a press pass for myself for Ride the Rockies. I committed myself and my true love to a petite pedal 412 miles through the Colorado mountains and up five mountain passes.
An awards show suitable for the mountain town
It’s time to roll out the red carpet and get ready for Steamboat’s first Snowy Awards. Co-masters of ceremonies of this year’s event will be Michael David and Patty Zimmer, two of the funniest people in the Yampa Valley.
You can rent a movie, rent a car, rent a hotel room — so why not rent a life? Yes, life. I know you think I’m kidding but it can be done. Spring, the season of renewal, is just around the corner, so read on to re-create your life.
The second ice age is upon us! The snow is piling up, another arctic blast is bearing down, and the only reasonable course of action seems to be to stay inside and bake endless batches of chocolate chip cookies. Or count the nanoseconds until Girl Scout cookies arrive.
Thanks to a controversial new book, motherhood is in the news. The book, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” by Amy Chua, sings the praises of “tough love” Chinese parenting. I am proud to be a teddy bear mother. I believe in raising a happy child.
Jeans and a cell phone — standard issue for most of us — had until now been out of reach for my developmentally disabled brother. Thanks to the cell phone, he can go to a sporting event or a movie by himself and call when he’s ready to come home.
I was the victim of quite a shock last week. While speed-reading news headlines online I spotted a tidbit about a 13th Zodiac sign. An account in the New York Times declared my sign has been shifted from a Scorpio to a Virgo.
Turn off coffee pot. Check. Print out boarding pass. Check. Return library books. Check. Check. Check. I am now a fan of checklists. Here’s how it happened. I went to the store five (count ’em, five) times to buy a new toothbrush for my pearly whites. I left the store five (count ’em, five) times without the toothbrush.
The next time someone asks me what I do for a living, I’m going to reply, “I’m a professional wonderer.” Wonderer is a hard word to pronounce, right up there with “rural,” which always wobbles around inside my mouth like a handful of marbles.
I am so glad you started an advice column for pets. I need help, pronto. It’s the holiday season, and I just can’t get into the spirit of things. I have done a terrible thing. I am mad at my owner. I have not wagged my tail or greeted her at the door for five days.
Stalling, procrastination and leftovers are all hazards of writing at home, and the Internet can be the biggest time waster of all. Although in the time it’s taken me to write the above, I have called the ski report, fed the dog and searched for my calculator. But what if there were Freedom from the Holidays software?
Announcer: Good evening and welcome to the final show of “Dancing with the Snowflakes,” Steamboat Springs’ newest reality TV show. Tonight’s final will feature a competition between three residents attempting to clear the snow from a 120-yard driveway.
When my brother says he’s going “to pay the water bill,” what he really means is he is going to the bathroom. For reasons I have yet to comprehend, families love to share too much information, or TMI, with each other.
The stinky, salty smell of my son’s dirty laundry greets me as I open the front door. Nothing strikes temporary paralysis in a teenager’s body quite like the edict, “clean your room.” However, my son always reinterprets it to mean: “Do nothing. Absolutely. Nothing.”
Hello, my name is Joanne Palmer, and I have a problem with birthdays. Yes, today is my birthday, and I have been admitted into an AARP-sponsored Birthday Rehab program.
He’s done it again. In a futile attempt to keep me away from his Halloween candy, my son has issued a restraining order against me. Boo-ya! It’s an annual event. As if the threat of jail time is going to keep me away from his Reese’s.
Today, Apple executives announced a new product line for pets. iPaw and iMeow, revolutionary new cell phones for pets, will be released Nov. 1, in time for holiday shopping. Here is a sneak preview of the first two phones in the animal lineup.
Parents of the world, unite against slug-bug slugging. I have had it. Every time I drive in the car with my son, I am beaten up whenever we see a Volkswagen bug. A yellow slug bug counts for two punches; every other color mercifully warrants only one punch. It was funny at the beginning. Now, it just hurts.
I am OK until I find the teeth. A clear box, about the size of a thimble, nested among old bank statements in the back of her desk drawer holds an assortment of baby teeth. That’s when the tears begin.
Help wanted: Hardworking couple in search of an old-fashioned ’50s-style husband. Must have a sincere, serious work ethic and happily bring home the bacon in the form of a large paycheck. That way, we can stay home and greet you warmly at the end of the day. We will be so rested and happy to meet you at the door with a martini and your slippers.
Help Wanted: 1950s-style wife. Cheery, hardworking individual needed immediately to take over domestic duties for hardworking couple and one teenager. Must be disciplined, focused and highly organized.
In a moment of temporary insanity, I decided my morning routine needed a change, a shakeup, an about-face. I decided to redouble my efforts to break my morning computer habit. I stumble out of bed and there she is waiting for me — Miss Mac, my pretty white MacBook on the dining room table. Overnight she has learned to speak.
School starts today in Steamboat Springs. The overnight low was 35 degrees. You know what this means. Routt County Communications, beware of the following: 911 Dispatcher: 911, What is the nature of your emergency? Caller: Summer. It’s over.
If Eliza Doolittle came to Steamboat, how would Henry Higgens instruct her? Let’s eavesdrop on a sample Steamboat conversation and see what would happen.
I hate the weather in Steamboat. Most of the time it’s perfect, and that’s the whole darn problem. There’s too much sunshine. No humidity. No rain. All admirable attributes, unless you need to get something done. Every day is perfection. Please tell me. How am I supposed to be productive when paradise awaits outside my door?
We’re all busy. But our blood is busier. Did you know that our blood travels 12,000 miles a day? 12,000 miles! All without MapQuest or GPS. Imagine how far it goes when it boils.