Mindfully Minnesotan

Hi. I’m Shannon.

Northern Minnesota girl. Unapologetic skincare junkie. BWCA backpacker. Golfer — with enthusiasm that far outweighs my skill. Commercial lender by day. Wife. Dog mom. And the person who will absolutely show up at your door with clippers and a good cry when life gets hard.

I’m 55, and I am in the best chapter of my life. Not because everything is perfect — it very much is not — but because I’ve finally figured out how to stop letting hard things shrink me.

I’m Not Healthy. But I’m Trying.

Here’s something I don’t hide: my body has put me through it.

First, I had a complete right ankle replacement at 45. I was misdiagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis for years before we figured out it was actually fibromyalgia. Two years ago I had a two-level lumbar fusion. I have other back and neck issues I’m actively working through — injections to stave off more surgery, a calendar full of appointments, and a very honest relationship with my own limitations.

On top of that, I’ve also lost about 60 pounds recently. Not because I found some magic program or finally got my act together — but because I got tired of feeling terrible and decided to do something about it, one stubborn day at a time.

Ultimately, I tell you this not for sympathy, but because I think a lot of people my age are quietly carrying something similar — a body that hasn’t cooperated, a diagnosis that took too long, a rack of bills and a pile of limitations. And they’re still out here hiking and backpacking and golfing terribly and building something new.

That’s the whole point of Mindfully Minnesotan. You don’t have to be healthy to live fully. You just have to keep showing up.

It Started With a Pinky Swear.

A few years back, my dear friend Melissa and I were sitting around — probably with a box of wine involved, if I’m being honest — and we made a deal. We were going to stop talking about doing things and actually do them. The North Shore. The BWCA. The stuff we’d been putting off until the right time, the right shape, the right weather, the right whatever.

The right time doesn’t come. You have to make it.

These days, Erica lives in Bozeman now, which means our adventures involve a little more planning and a lot more excitement when we finally land in the same wilderness together. But the pinky swear still holds. We’re still writing our story.

The Night We All Went Bald.

Last March, one of my dearest friends was diagnosed with cancer. Not the good kind. Trust me, there is a good kind and what she has isn’t it. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help. I sat with that gut punch helplessness for quite a while, and then I did the only thing I could think of.

I bought us a set of clippers.

I asked if I could come out to visit one afternoon. When I did, I told her I had something for her. I gave them to her and said: “Please don’t be mad at me. But chances are good you’re going to need these soon. And when you do, I’m here. I’ll even go first.”

So one night, when she was ready, we had a head-shaving party. We took our husbands down with us. Our friend Ed happened to be around that night — he went down too. What started as one of the hardest moments in my recent past turned into a night of pure, ridiculous, tear-streaked laughter. The love of friendship.

I went from shoulder length to completely bald in a matter of minutes. And I don’t regret a single second of it. In fact, just the opposite — it was the most liberating thing I’ve ever done. I’m keeping it short. Super short.

That night reminded me what actually matters. Who actually matters. And how quickly everything can change. It’s a little over a year. She now has a beautiful head of hair. And I’m so grateful. I love her.

The Man. The Myth. The Legend. 😄🎣🌲 (He’s going to KILL me! 😂💚)

My husband Dennis is the reason the Sawtooth Shanty exists. He built the majority of it with his own hands in Lutsen, Minnesota — right in the Sawtooth Mountains on the North Shore — which tells you everything you need to know about him.

Beyond that, Dennis runs a commercial painting company, which means he is always in the middle of a project. Preferably three projects.

Dennis doesn’t much care for hiking the trails. He refers to them as ditches. Instead he prefers the road less traveled, meaning no road or trail at all. He ditches me in the ditch and bushwacks up the side of the mountain. Ultimately we get to the same destination, we just get there differently.

He’s also the man who sat down in that chair and shaved his head without hesitation and I didn’t even ask him to. That’s Dennis. He shows up.

Erica

My daughter Erica lives in Bozeman, Montana — surrounded by some of the most spectacular mountains and trails in the country — and I don’t get to see her nearly enough.

She is studying Wildlife Management and works at Bridger Bowl, the iconic ski hill just outside of town.

She’s maybe 110 pounds soaking wet and I jokingly call her my “110 pound Pip-Squeek”. She’s far from it! She has built trails in Arizona, she has her chainsaw certification, spent time lopping the heads off moose, deer and elk for Chronic Wasting Disease testing for the state of Montana, and can shoot a 30-06 and anything else that comes her way without flinching.

She is an absolute badass and I am so proud of her I can’t hardly stand it.

As she’s getting older we are really starting to write our story together, and I cannot wait to see how it all unfolds. Every adventure we share feels like a chapter in something really beautiful. Man I love her!

Angus.

Angus is my guy. He’s an 8-year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback. He’s 95 pounds of absolute chaos. He hikes with me, he sits on my feet, he beats me with his tail, I can’t pee in peace, he takes up three quarters of the bed, he ate my couch, and every night when I get home from work he shows his love by “running for mom” — which means he runs a lap around the house. He is my heart. I wub him.

The Skincare Thing.

I grew up in the era of baby oil and silver reflective blankets baking ourselves in the sun. My childhood skin routine could generously be described as “negligent.”

I have spent the last several years making up for it with great enthusiasm and an embarrassing amount of money. I’m a full-on skincare nerd — peptides, barrier repair, skin cycling, the whole thing. I review products honestly because I’ve wasted enough money on things that didn’t work and I refuse to let you do the same.

“Tan fat looks better than fish-belly white fat” was the wisdom of my youth. My current wisdom is: SPF every single day, double cleanse at night, and a serum that actually does something. We’ve come a long way.

A Perfect Day.

Coffee first. Always coffee first.

Then: a trail with enough climb to earn the view. A golf round where I hit at least two shots I’m proud of. A lake in the afternoon. Something good on the grill. Dennis. Erica. Angus destroying something he shouldn’t.

In the BWCA: a frozen tent, a fire that actually starts, a portage I survive, and the kind of quiet you can only find when you’re genuinely far from everything.

On the North Shore: Lutsen. The Sawtooth Mountains. A coffee from a little shop on the way in. The lake. Always the lake.

What Mindfully Minnesotan Means to Me.

Minnesota is a great place to be all year round. I love and embrace all four seasons — from the State Fair to the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, which I’ve been volunteering at for over 10 years. Despite mosquitoes the size of pterodactyls, when I think of Minnesota, the only word that comes to mind is hygge.

I’ve drunk directly from a lake in the Boundary Waters in the middle of winter — after arriving by sled dog — and not thought twice about it. The water is that clean. The air is that pure. Northern Minnesota is one of the most extraordinary places on earth and I don’t take a single day of it for granted.

But living here also means living with a beautiful tension. I live on the edge of the Iron Range — home to one of the world’s largest iron ore deposits — where mining is crucial to our way of life and our livelihoods. We need to be mindful of both the economy and the environment. That tension is real, it’s complicated, and it’s part of what it means to be truly Minnesotan.

Mindfully Minnesotan is my attempt to share all of it — the trails, the skincare, the gear, the lake life, the golf disasters, the sauna sessions, the honest product reviews, and the occasional box of wine and pinky swear. This is real life in Northern Minnesota. And it is absolutely, completely, joyfully worth sharing.

The Sawtooth Shanty — Coming Soon!

Our cabin in Lutsen is called the Sawtooth Shanty — named for the Sawtooth Mountains on Minnesota’s North Shore. Dennis built it with his own hands and it is one of my favorite places on earth. We’re now offering guided stays at the Shanty — guided by me. If you want to experience the North Shore the way a local does — the trails, the views, the towns, the food, the whole thing — come stay with us.

Thanks for being here.

Now go adventure.