Vance: I’ve never been to Ukraine. But I’ve seen and watched it on TV.
Maybe sit this one out, Hillbilly Eyeliner.
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@amikokelly • 9.4k followers
Formerly NASA | Married to @stationcdrkelly Gardner | Home Chef | Pot Stirrer
Meatballs, family and justice keep me grounded.
📍Roxborough Park, CO
Vance: I’ve never been to Ukraine. But I’ve seen and watched it on TV.
Maybe sit this one out, Hillbilly Eyeliner.
54.3k
Sometimes a timeline cleanse is needed. We created Pickles’ IG to share moments like this that make us pause, feel and spread a little joy.
Follow justapeckofpickles on IG if you need some puppy love in your life, too. instagram.com/p/DTYZlm9Ebg3/?igsh=MXduOHllcjB1MXRhbQ==
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We lost a legend last night. A true good one—Bob Weir.
Spent a quiet Saturday night in our greenhouse with our puppy Pickles, listening to music and remembering the joy and kindness he shared. He’ll be missed by the world, but also deeply by us.
We were grateful to have crossed paths with him on this long, strange walk. May we carry on with the same kindness, compassion, and joy he shared.
Rest peacefully in cutoff knickers and Birkenstocks, Bobby.
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My husband and I were out running errands when, as we pulled out of a parking lot, I saw an elderly woman fall over in her motorized cart. She was lying on the side of the street.
I alerted Scott and he immediately jumped out to help. We called 911 as a precaution. Scott asked her a few questions to check her cognition and make sure she hadn’t hit her head.
Scott: Who is the President?
Elderly woman: Unfortunately, Donald Trump.
Good news: she’s okay.
Bad news: Trump is President.
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"In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock" — Thomas Jefferson
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Last Christmas—
this one I kept.
Antarctica, a moment held still
before everything changed.
A year of endings and beginnings.
Loss and unexpected joy.
New love on four legs. New clarity.
When Scott spent a year in space, I learned distance can change you. This year taught me that staying grounded can, too.
So much can happen in a year. Choosing care over noise. Grateful for all of it.
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Last night, we celebrated the longest night of the year and our final night of Hanukkah 2025.
A year that asked a lot of us — and still, we choose light. Grateful for the light we’ve gathered and carry forward.
May these nights bring warmth and hope to all. Happy holidays from our home to yours.
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Flashback to this summer—great flying with you, @rookisaacman. Congratulations on your swearing-in as NASA Administrator! Capable leadership, clear vision, deep passion, and a true respect for safety.
Looking forward to seeing NASA fly with you at the helm.
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Happy Hanukkah to my family and friends who celebrate.
Eight nights of remembering that even a small flame can push back the darkness.
Last night, I lit the first candle on our menorah with my mom in my heart—missing her deeply, reflecting on her brighter parts—grateful for the traditions, strength, creativity, and lessons she passed on, even alongside the harder memories.
May these nights bring warmth and hope to all.
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Our family has grown by four tiny, determined feet. Meet Pickles.
Hopped on a flight to Ohio last week amid Denver’s first real snowstorm to meet this little guy and bring him home. Delays, a missed flight, Chicago in between, and a very late-night arrival later, we were already completely smitten.
One week, and we’re still smitten, but also bitten. Pickles is deep in his baby-shark era, enthusiastically connecting with the world—and our ankles, hands, and bathrobes.
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He knows his name, sleeps through the night, loves his jar (crate), and is nearly pickle-patch trained. He’s learning to ring a tiny doorbell to go outside, rides in his pickle pouch until vaccinations are done (friendly reminder: vaccines don’t cause autism), and lives for morning walks.
He loves snow—bounding, belly-splooting, tiny-furry-sledding down hills. Social, adaptable, and already showing signs of being a great little traveler.
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He’s been declared a Broncos fan (negotiations ongoing), though he seems to love football regardless. Probably the snacks.
In just a week, he’s cracked open space in our home—and our hearts—we didn’t realize needed tending. After the heaviness of this year, a tiny creature with no agenda but love feels like healing. Like a good brine for the soul.
We’re going to get along just fine.
P.S. There may be a lot of Pickles content ahead. This is a warning, not an apology.
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Trump is the most obnoxious President in the whole place. Let me just tell you -- he is an obnoxious-- a terrible President. And it's always the same thing with him.
Fixed it.
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Truth. It actually took me back to the first time I played paintball with my brother, his longtime fella friends I grew up with, and his wife—my SIL, who I also grew up with. Dianna and I were the only girls out there.
Across this Texas field was this one guy—full camo, shredded fabric hanging off his mask, war paint, steroid arms bursting out of ripped sleeves. The “toxic masculinity or unresolved childhood trauma” starter pack. He kept growling in this forced deep voice:
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“girls don’t belong on the battlefield,” which made it funnier.
But the real moment was when I tagged him with a paintball.
He got so pissed that instead of corking his barrel and surrendering like the rules require, he yanked it out and double-tapped me after he was already out.
Anyway—this is a post about Pete Hegseth and war crimes.
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I approve my 9-year old niece’s fangirling over Sabrina Carpenter. I’m telling her mama now. She’s one of us. You’re okay.
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Good thing I stayed at the airport hotel last night before my flight today. Since Denver finally decided “fuck it, let’s winter.”
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It’s almost like someone cut off his power source by refusing to bow to his intimidation. Someone rattled him so hard he panic–rage-posted all night.
Someone.
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First snowfall of the season finally hit. Celebrating the little wins with stuffed bell pepper soup tonight.
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Rewatching the last episode of South Park because why not? ‘Pete Hegseth is a fucking douche’ to the tune of Danger Zone is the only version of ‘Danger Zone’ that truly speaks to the moment.
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Is it a war crime if we’re not at war or just basic murder? Asking for a friend.
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Pete Hegseth must have learned how to properly wear a uniform from Sean Duffy.
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So tired. Heart tired. Soul tired. Grief will do that. But today, I got up out of my poor-me funk and did the thing. I voted.
For my mom. For her strength. For everything she taught me about showing up, even when it hurts.
Lesson 651: Vote. If you sit out of the political process, you choose not to have your voice heard.
Thank you, Mama, for the bazillion lessons — even when I rolled my eyes, you were right most times. I may not always fold the fitted sheet, but I never sit this one out.
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Our beautiful, talented, twisted Mama passed away this Saturday.
She was a fierce supporter of women’s rights, an LGBTQ+ ally, and a defender of equality and justice. A brilliant, well-read woman who raised seven children — one boy and six girls — largely on her own. A terrifically gifted artist, a strong proponent of volunteerism, and a political firebrand.
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She also struggled — with mental illness and the trauma of domestic violence. Our relationship was deeply complicated at times, but despite the darker edges of our story, she taught me to live boldly and with compassion. She was the most curious, adventurous person I ever knew — climbing mountains both metaphorically and literally, always yearning to learn more.
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As she began to pass, we played Tennessee Waltz — the song her mama and daddy danced to, the song she carried on for us from babies to grown adults, singing it to each of her children. Born in Tennessee, she carried a lifetime of love and memory in that song.
Her last words to us were, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” I felt the full weight of their truth. In that moment, I understood she loved us deeply, and loved all of us to the best of her abilities.
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I will forever cherish the power of those words — and the strength behind them and her.
Even in her final moments, there was a quiet defiance in her spirit — a reminder that she lived on her own terms, with courage, fearlessness, love, and unshakable independence.
“I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz
Now I know just how much I have lost
Yes, I lost my little darlin’ the night they were playing
The beautiful Tennessee Waltz.”
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