Our normally tight-knit neighborhood has gone into hibernation this winter. In an attempt to rally the troops, I sent an email inviting them to come skating at Evergreen Lake on Saturday. No one could come but I was saddened that half of them did not even bother to respond.
They could have just dropped me a note stating, “I would rather die than be seen skating with you in public.”
That would have been the polite thing to do. 
It was their loss. Jamie, the kids and I prefaced our outdoor adventure by having breakfast at Country Road Cafe in Kittredge.
From their nine different kinds of eggs benedicts to the famous smashed mashes, this place was love at first sight. Jamie has never deviated from their gargantuan breakfast burrito, the kids adore the fluffy, stuffed pancakes and this time, I experimented with their egg, tomato and cream cheese sausage wrap with roasted red pepper sauce (excuse me while I wipe the tears of joy from my eyes).
From there, it was onto Evergreen Lake – my favorite place to skate in Colorado. I was thrilled because this would be my 3-year-old daughter’s first time on ice skates. Growing up in Canada, I was introduced to skating shortly after leaving the womb. I was raised gliding along frozen lakes, rivers and even our garden that we turned into a rink. When growing up on tundra, you learn very quickly that pretty much anywhere is skatable and that frozen nose hairs are a fashion statement.
Such was not the case on Saturday with our 58-degree temperatures. I thought the balmy weather would be ideal with two little ones but with sun comes slush. And every few feet, our skates sunk into the ice because of it.
Or it could have been due to the extra 30 pounds I gained over Christmas.
Despite the poor conditions, Hadley was a champ and learned to balance herself very quickly. With my assistance, she tentatively took her first steps and started gliding and weaving as she bossed me around.
Pretty much, it was like any typical day in the Johnson household.
After a while, she needed a break. Jamie and I loaded the kids onto sleds and we flew across the ice as we whipped them around in circles.
Or at least we would have had we not been skating through a Slurpee. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of what those poor sled dogs experience in the Iditarod.
And ascertained that is probably why the driver always shouts out, “Mush.”
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 