It’s my life

Tag: skiing_legend

  • ☢️ NEIGHBORHOOD EMERGENCY BROADCAST ☢️  

    ☢️ NEIGHBORHOOD EMERGENCY BROADCAST ☢️  

    Now here’s the part that stings a little:  

    That “strong smell” you’re reporting?  

    That’s not a problem.  

    That’s what top-tier quality weed smells like.  

    It’s the same reason:  

    – Good BBQ travels three houses down  

    – Fresh coffee hits before you open the cup  

    – And apparently… my garden introduces itself before I do  

    The difference?  

    Nobody files complaints about my brisket.  

    Let’s be honest for a second—  

    Some of you rev and idle engines at 6am and I’m cool with that. 

    Some of you run leaf blowers like it’s a competitive sport, which is all good.

    Some of you think “subtle” is a 12-foot inflatable in January, it happens.

    But the plant?  

    That’s where we draw the line?  

    Interesting.  

    Here’s the reality:  

    Nothing here is accidental.  

    Nothing here is out of control.  

    It’s dialed in  indoors, on purpose, and quite frankly—  

    operating at a level most people wouldn’t recognize if it introduced itself twice.  

    So if the breeze carries it your way, don’t panic.  

    You’re not being attacked.  

    You’re being exposed to excellence.  

    And if that bothers you…  

    you’re really going to hate next harvest season.

    Thanks for your time.

    #cannabis in my neighborhood

    #neighbor who smokes weed or #marijuana.

    #WhatdoIdo?

  • 4/20 Memories @ The Denver Diner

    Yay it’s finally April

    It’s funny how some 4/20 memories aren’t about massive crowds, smoke clouds over a park, or music blasting through the city. Sometimes, it’s just about where you land after work is done for fthe day.

    I’ve only really done one proper 4/20 outing, and it still sticks with me. My old ski partner and I ended up at Denver Diner—that perfect late lunch, early dinner window where you’re not rushed even though the Denver Diner was packed, everything slows down just enough to feel it.

    But the real story started long before we sat down.

    That day was all cutting and trimming weed. Hours of it. Hands sticky, senses overloaded, and that smell—fully locked in and happy. Not the casual “yeah, I smoke weed” kind of scent. No sir. This was the industrial-strength, been breathing weed all-day, loud-without-speaking kind of smell.

    There are levels to this game.

    Some people try to smell like weed.

    Some people are weed.

    I was firmly in the second category.

    By the time we walked into the diner, I was half-aware of it and half not caring at all because it’s 420. That strange mix of exhaustion and satisfaction had kicked in—the kind where you know you earned whatever’s coming next. Food hits different after a day like that. Not just better—earned.

    Now here’s the kicker: Civic Center Park—ground zero for Denver’s 4/20 scene—isn’t that far away from the old Denver Diner. We could’ve wandered over, jumped into the crowd, made a whole thing out of it.

    But honestly?

    We didn’t need to.

    It was already 4/20 on the calendar—and I smelled like weed… go figure.

    No big crowd. No spectacle. Just two guys, a long day behind them, and a meal that felt like a reward.

    And looking back? That might’ve been the best way to do it.

    Because sometimes, you don’t go to the event.

    Sometimes… you are the event.

    Denver 420

    Denver Diner

    Civic Center Park

    Denver Weed

  • Woodland Park Was Enough

    Gravity still sucks—and quiet still matters.

    We went to Woodland Park on Sunday morning, just outside Colorado Springs, and I didn’t get out of the car the entire time. That wasn’t a failure—it was the right call. Being there was enough.

    It was a totally awesome experience simply sitting in a real mountain town—no glitz, no spectacle, none of the polished urgency you get in resort-driven places. No pressure to participate. No expectation to keep up. Just mountains, quiet, and space that didn’t demand anything from me.

    After my stroke, public spaces take more out of me than they used to. Crowds, movement, unpredictability—my nervous system notices all of it. I don’t hate going out; I hate being overwhelmed. Knowing the difference matters.

    The point of this trip wasn’t errands or activities. It wasn’t about doing anything at all. It was about being somewhere that didn’t try to sell me an experience.

    Gravity still sucks. Crowds still jam me. But quiet mountain towns that let you exist without explanation? Priceless.

    Sometimes, enough is already enough.

  • My View From the Cheap Seats

    Watching Lindsey Vonn crash was a ⛷️brutal reminder of how unforgiving downhill skiing really is. She’s always preached “ski fast, take chances” and even “to turn is to admit defeat.” That mentality is exactly why she’s a legend—and also why the consequences are so violent when things go wrong.

    The irony? You earn a helicopter ride at full speed… and instead of a backcountry lap in waist-deep powder, you get strapped to a board and flown to a hospital.

    That’s downhill skiing. Inches matter. Gravity always wins. And the mountain doesn’t care about résumés.

    Respect to anyone willing to live by that code.

    If you want it sharper, softer, or spicier for the comment section warriors, say the word