I always tell my jubilant sister Diana to expect nothing when her birthday arrives and that way she’ll never be disappointed. Does she look like someone who would listen to me?

When my boyfriend Ken asked me if I’d like to go back to Shelter Island for the Fourth of July weekend, I forgot my ‘expect nothing’ rule and only thought of Carly Simon’s Anticipation song – for a good six months.

When the day finally rolled around, I packed a carefully chosen picnic for the evening ferry ride  from Bridgeport to Port Jefferson.

A ferry can be romantic,

until it starts moving. The selection of salads blew – not so carefully – everywhere, and in the dark. The plastic cups were no match for the sea breeze. I could feel the chilled Rose splash against my calves and ankles. I was shivering in my summer dress. And  I’m not going to discuss what havoc ferry wind can wreak on a Bergdorf blow dry.  When we got to the Chequit Inn–  hungry and thirsty with matted hair- we found our “upgraded room” had a view of the hotel’s numerous air conditioners.

Hmm, I thought. Maybe encores should be left to the theatre.

The next morning the perky staff moved us from Suite 1 (avoid) to Suite 20 (request). The best room of all (Suite 21) – the one we had last year with a view of the sea and oodles of space – was taken. The hotel’s terrace restaurant was open and looked inviting. We de-stressed at Shelter Island Pilates (highly recommended 2nd year in a row), bike rode to deserted Hay Beach (a two-year award winner), had drinks and watched the sunset at Andre Balazs’ Sunset Beach, and ate dinner with friends at buzzy Vine Street Cafe. We went there twice in five days, it’s that good. Another day we kayaked to scenic Big Ram Island, all repeats from last year.

So maybe, like a good relationship, familiarity isn’t such a bad thing. Getting to know a place and a person has its upsides. Not everything will be perfect, but that which is, is even more special.

Especially, when there’s a little danger mixed in to spice things up. We biked  to the Sag Harbor Golf Club and spotted a dirt path. Serene …

until you read the sign …

Don’t worry, it’s not hunting season, Ken laughs, peddling away.

Then what are these, I ask?

Old bullets. Don’t worry about it.

Ken is gone, and I’m both a chicken and a sheep so I peddle too, head tucked down in case of stray bullets. We follow a path to a gorgeous, deserted beach, only a few miles from bustling Sag Harbor.

Then we have a delicious lunch outside at the American Hotel – same menu as last year, same shirt too (Ken’s, not mine).

Another day my friend  Karen shows me her favorite parts of the island.

She and her husband Marc plus four kids have been coming here for a decade. He’s a big sailor. I never realised how much I like yachting life until I tried the yacht club’s Southside cocktails. Ahoy Captain!

Karen thinks Nostrand Parkway has the prettiest houses.

and Kyles the best doughnuts.

She gets a lot of her fruit and veg from organic Sylvester Farms.

For a gorgeous walk Karen took me to Mashomack Preserve which covers a third of the island. It’s so peaceful and beautiful that we got totally lost mid-deep-chat. She could see that I was slightly panicked about being lost.

No problem,  says Karen, I’ve got my phone. Oops, it’s out of juice.

Then she starts swatting her legs.

Look at these ticks. Jeez.

Isn’t this the capital of lyme disease? She casually brushes off about twenty from her body and then spots two on me. Where are the other 18, I wonder??? First bullets, then lyme. What next?

We eventually found the path back, went for a swim at Secret Beach whose location is, well, a secret. And as for the ticks – that’s where Ken comes into his own. Who knew he was such a talented tick inspector?

July 2016

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Why are you going? You don’t ski. You’ve never met the people you’ll be staying with. And you’re flying thousand of miles for the pleasure. Are you nuts, my therapist asked.

Obviously, I thought. That’s why I’m sitting on this sofa facing you. Haha. Jokes aside, I will admit that I was a bit anxious about spending a week in a ski resort when I had decided post multiple knee surgeries and divorce that skiing and helmut hair could be scratched off my list with indelible ink. Then my boyfriend invited me to Aspen, and ignoring my eldest daughter’s sage beauty advice to stick to urban holidays, I said yes. There must be other things to do in Aspen besides shredding the gnar. 

In fact, Aspen is loaded with “other things”. Top on the list is mountain restaurant  Cloud Nine where as much champagne is sprayed as consumed, skiers dance on tables and things get so heated that everyone cools down by removing their tops. The source of this good info was our gregarious host Rick. His adorable wife Zibby was equally as helpful although their strengths differ; Rick excels at apres-ski, night-life, the Best of Jimmy Fallon and value for dollar, Zibby everything else. So our bases were covered.

Day One I went to O2, a great yoga/pilates spot that offers conventional yoga classes which I loved,

and  unconventional classes which I boldly tested. Cirque de Soleil for the newbie, otherwise known as Aerial Yoga, is not as easy as it looks.  No, I am not one of the lovelies below.

O2  offers classes with names like “How to Practice during Your Lunar Cycle”, “Soul Quest”,  “Messages from the Other Side” (not the other side of the wall) which, had I more time and knowing me, I definitely would have tried.

But instead the friendly town of Aspen beckoned. March is sale time, and from Loro Piana and Dior down to Stash and Dragon’s Den, there are shops to satisfy every taste bud.

I like the one-off spots, such as Souchi, run by the charming Suzi Johnson below, who knits by night and sells by day.

Suzi used to have a knitting studio, two shops in Portland, Oregon, sell wholesale and to Net a Porter. Then she fell in love with Aspen and decided to scale back her business. (Suzi doesn’t ski either, by the way).

I love designing and making things. Now I don’t have to design a sweater that Nashville, San Francisco and New York all like.

She makes beautiful hats, tops and head scarves in a range of colors.

I could while away the whole day at my next stop – the cosy and well-stocked Explore Bookshop adjoined by the light-filled Pyramid Bistro, a nutritarian restaurant (yes, that’s a word) that is as delicious as it is healthy.

From books to art- the Aspen Art Museum designed by 2014 Pritzker Prize winner Shigeru Ban, his first museum in the States, is an eye-catching addition to the mountain town. Both current exhibitions by Liz Larner and Judith Scott are worth a visit. The guards could double as guides, they are so well-informed and helpful. Catch some rays on the sun-trap terrace  facing out onto the dramatic Aspen Mountains.

Another cultural highlight not to miss is Winter Words at the Aspen Institute. I listened to Pulitzer Prize-winning husband and wife authors Tony Horwitz and Geraldine Brooks. I was prepared to hate this over-achieving super-couple, but they were too funny, insightful, down-to-earth and normal.

I have to confess that I did end up donning skis. Turns out the only way to get to champagne-fueled Cloud Nine is on skis. Talk about motivation. I started out with cross-country which was heavenly, and then moved onto downhill – which I actually enjoyed.

 Cloud Nine, here I come! So much for not skiing in Aspen.

March, 2016

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