The way I see it, skiers can pretty much be broken down into two categories, the pleasure skier, and the athletic skier. There is the skier that seeks out the longest, most scenic way down every time and then there is the skier that has the need for speed. There is the one who carefully carves her winding way down the trail without a care in the world vs. the one that wants to be challenged and sticks mainly to black diamonds. Perhaps it’s because I am from the south or perhaps it’s because I didn’t learn to ski till I was 16 but, I am, and always will be, a pleasure skier. And being a pleasure skier comes with a deep love for the aprés ski warmth of a fire and a yummy drink.
I have made an annual New England pilgrimage six out of the past seven years in the pursuit of fresh powder and delicious aprés ski cocktails. A couple of years ago, my friend and college mentor purchased a home built in 1790, in Francestown, New Hampshire. He is an architect and an interior designer who has slowly been renovating this beautiful old home himself. It has all the charms you hope for in an old New England farmhouse, exposed beams in almost every room, massive hearths, and the most charming old barn. His incredible home happens to be 14 miles from the only Barbour clearance center in the country and five miles from Crotched Mountain, home of the fastest ski lift in New England!
The Oscars are my Superbowl. From the first red carpet look through the last stammering speech, I am not ashamed to admit that I am totally captivated by the Academy Awards. I think what our culture loves so much is that the Oscars offer us a chance to see actors “playing” themselves. Every year I am drawn in by their “authentic vulnerability” while giving their acceptance speeches, yet the whole evening is still clouded in that cinematic atmosphere we all so clearly crave.
I’m the kind of girl who will pick a ski trip over a beach vacation any day and I look forward to our annual trip almost as much as I look forward to Christmas. I absolutely love the thrill of the first time off the lift, the bite of the cold air on my face as I race down the slopes and of course, that first sip of a warm aprés ski cocktail in front of the fire. Our trip to New Hampshire this year was filled with fresh snow, lazy brunches and lots and lots of red wine. Full trip recap coming soon but for now, I will leave you with this sweet little recipe.
This year my book club drew names for a “secret Galentine.” We are going to get together later this month to exchange gifts over brunch featuring heart shaped everything. While researching gift ideas for my secret gal, I threw together a few of my favorites for that Gal-pal in your life.
Have you ever had an irrational mental block about a home project? Something that you started not only ignoring but avoiding all together? That is what I have been doing for the better part of a year with our linen closet. With the lack of an organized system in place, nice piles of towels turned into things being shoved where ever they would fit. It was so out of hand that on laundry day I would strip the bed, wash the sheets and then put them right back on the bed so I didn’t have to go anywhere near the linen closet. It was absolutely pathetic!