When we lived in New York City Michele and I, desperate to vacate the city on the hot summer weekends, rented a room in a house in the Hamptons, sight unseen.

The day we drove up to the horseshoe driveway, filled with parked Porsches, we looked at each other in fear. We were hoping for jeeps and jalopies that showed the wear and tear of a life of adventure.

We walked out to the pool area and it seemed as though every New Yorker that we had successfully avoided in our everyday living was sunbathing while chatting on their phones, chewing gum and painting their nails. We felt the cold stares as we walked around looking for a friendly face to melt the chill but their was not one to be found.

That night, after Michele went to bed in a heap of depression at our foolish mistake, I went down to the living room to see if I might give it another shot and find somebody I could relate to and that is when I met Jody, a vivaciously beautiful, green eyed girl with a voracious curiosity for people and we immediately connected, spending the evening catching up on our lives.

Our friendship transitioned back to the city and Jody, with her power of conviction, had me hired with Seventeen Magazine where she wrote her own column on finding great fashion accessories around the city.

The column was perfect for Jody, a true explorer at heart, who knows how to quickly dissect any town she is visiting immediately getting to the core and finding hidden treasures that most tourists would miss.

Jody lives in the northeast but is a part time local here in Aspen and knows the town better than most locals do, always introducing me to the best ski school program or the place to find the best coffee.

When I met her in town the other day, she asked me if I had ever met Wendy who owns The Dark Horse Alley. When I said that I had never heard of her she took me inside the warm atrium of the historic Ute City Building and showed off Wendy’s charming little nook.

It took me a little bit to soak it all in, the cafe tables, the coffee cart lit up by a string of lights, the vintage coca-cola refrigerator where beautiful sugars and coffee acoutrements were shelved, the showcase of packaged chocolates surrounded by  silver almonds and colored rock candy and her tiny kitchen that she somehow masterfully rigged where she and her son and daughter make the Mediterranean, French and Indian soups and baguette sandwiches.

I looked at the menu and my mouth began to drool, have I mentioned yet how much I love food? I ordered the breakfast sandwich, an English Muffin with a thin slice of green apple, grilled chicken and melted Havarti cheese and boy was it delicious.

Treats made with natural ingredients are okay in my book and so after I  picked up the boys from school I surprised them and took them to visit Dark Horse Alley.

Their eyes became enormous as they processed the delectable pastries and sweets and they opted for the cupcake, which I made them share because I’m such a mean old hag of a mommy and I only had three dollars in my wallet.

I could almost taste every moist bite as I lovingly watched them slowly and purposefully enjoy the thick frosting, colored sugar and my favorite french silver Dragees that I told them would turn them blue if they ate too many of them.

As we drove home I became excited about this new life of mine, where I make a concentrated effort to discover the many treasures and interesting locals in our valley. I have many stories lined up and I can’t wait to share them all with you.

**PS – I do receive trade for most of the business establishments I write about but I only write about the ones I love and often, as in Dark Horse Alley, I receive nothing but the satisfaction that I am spreading the word and helping a quality business to survive in a difficult time.

**PPS – When you go to visit Dark Horse Alley, please tell Wendy that you heard about her from me.

Last Friday I put on my ski clothes, as I got the boys ready for school, and my adrenaline was pumping in anticipation of letting loose all of my pent up aggression as I skied through the freshly fallen snow.

If you live in a ski resort, you live for snow, lots and lots of snow. When it doesn’t snow and you’re dealt with bitter cold days without mounds of snow to throw your kids into and built forts with, than tempers begin to brew and foam and people find it best to keep to themselves lest the fists start flying.

“Our good Mommy is back,” the boys declared on our way to school as I blared their favorite radio station, 100.5 Radio Free Aspen, a station that plays the same top ten hip hop songs repeatedly to ensure that you learn every word to Akon’s “Sexy Bitch” by heart. Yes, I know, totally inappropriate but we love music and dancing so what are you going to do?

Picking up the girls down the street,  I watched as the little one quietly inserted her thumb into her mouth as her big blue eyes innocently took us all in. Being a fellow thumb sucker, until I was ten, I deeply empathized. I knew that the music was a complete departure to the songs that she was used to listening to on her way to school like, “This land is your land,” and I wondered if it was all too much culture shock for her.

When we arrived at school Axel began to whimper. He had dark rings under his eyes and complained of a tummy ache. I looked into his melt chocolate eyes with long dark lashes and I realized that I could not pump him up on Motrin & Vitamin C and send him on his way, not even with the superb combination of best friends and powder awaiting just fifteen minutes away.

I had to work hard to not show my frustration and resentment that my day had taken a turn but my perceptive little boy knew what was up and I saw him grow sad with the acknowledgment that I was wishing to be elsewhere when all he so desperately needed was my undivided attention.

As the day progressed Axel revealed to me his deepest thoughts and I made a pact to myself to allow these precious moments to happen on a daily basis. I absorbed every detail of his stories, how he got in trouble at school for talking when he was actually defending a student who was being made fun of and how his teacher did not listen to him when he tried to explain and so he just gave up.

We talked about the pain he feels when he hurts himself and he said, “I shake my body until the pain goes away but when somebody hurts my feelings, that is when I cry, even though I don’t want to.” Tears came to my eyes as I listened to my quiet little boy who has learned to keep his thoughts to himself because nobody seems to hear what he has to say.

Axel’s message was clear, I was just as guilty as his teacher’s who fall into the pattern of coexisting without communicating or connecting and I became determined to change that. As my mother always says,  these are the best times of my life and I need to appreciate them while they are here.

The boys are growing up quickly and I need to remain present or I will miss many a precious moment and I thank Axel for this reality check, the mountain can wait.

My father got his three daughters on skis at the early age of three and dragged us out to the icy Vermont slopes rain or shine. I thank him for giving me a sport that gives me an absolute feeling of freedom without the fear. But in this moment in time, as I watched my friend ski down the foreboding ski slope, the fear came on strong.

I had no choice but to follow and as I made the leap my skis caught a twig and I plummeted down into a deep crevasse. I landed at the bottom with my heart racing. I looked way up and saw light and safety above but I was underneath the snow and I was hyperventilating with the fear that if I moved at all the snow would cave in and suffocate me. I wasn’t ready to die, I still had so much more to show and teach my children and I wanted to grow old with Wade.

A voice inside my head shouted, “CALM DOWN.” I listened, knowing that the next few seconds could save or kill me.

I awoke from my dream, my pajamas drenched with sweat and my heart pounding and I heard the message loud and clear.

During Christmas break I have been doing my best to keep the boys busy outside, despite the freezing temperatures, moving them from sled hills to skating rinks to ski slopes packed with boozed infused tourists and crazy locals.

I need to calm my twitch and find my inner calm and we all need a day at home.