Last night I met up with a new friend at the Denver Botanic Gardens.
We walked and talked for hours, reveling in the garden’s beauty. We watched the light change over this peaceful bit of the city.
The sky and sunset reminded me that fall is ready to come to Denver and I imagine, that after this dark summer, Denver is ready to embrace her.
The Gardens are such a gorgeous place. Can you get over the magic of those twinkling lights in the trees?
I can’t either!
I pulled the trigger and bought a plane ticket for some end of summer Labor Day weekend lake time.
The last time I was at the lake was in May. It was a week before my wedding and I was about to lose my mind. I was torn between wanting to turn my brain completely off and fall asleep in the hammock with Fifty Shades of Grey and wanting to just get my bottom back to my parents’ house so I could connect to WiFi and continue emailing everyone and their brother about last minute reception items.
So after this long, hot, sad summer in the arid Denver desert, it’s with incredible happiness I’m arriving in Hartford on Thursday.
I need me some blue sky and big water.
Shrimp cocktail and white wine on the boat.
Snuggles with Glitter Kitty on the deck.
And the Columbia County Fair starts tomorrow night. I hope to be sipping on a 4H Milk Shed shake the minute I get in the gates. I can’t wait to see Diamond Rio on Sunday with my cousins.
Weeeeeee!
Lately, I’ve had some busy Mondays. That first day of the work week makes for snapping back into place at the office.
But each Monday that’s full of here, there and everywhere are little reminders of my life’s happy moments.
Here are a few of mine from today.
Hearing my coworker sing along to KBCO.
She’s been my friend for almost five years. On my first day at work, Gloria came over to my desk and gave me some pointers on the office culture. She handed me the supply catalog and told me she’d be here if I had any questions. I had TONS of questions. And she never got frustrated with me. And surprisingly, she still hasn’t. Love her.
Realizing my panties are the same color as my painted toenails.
This was an awesome thought. I totally wanted to tell Gloria. But I’m a professional. Ahem.
Wandering the library.
After work, I got to peruse the stacks at the library. I love my branch so much. The librarians, the patrons, and their fiction section. It’s just so easy to be happy there. I picked out three novels for the weekend.
Coming home to a very clean apartment.
Yesterday, we had C’s family over for dinner. When I really need motivation for a deep clean of the apartment, I invite someone over for dinner. We cleaned, we cooked, and we baked. It stayed clean. And when I walked in the door after the library today, I was careful to take my heels off and put them back in the closet.
Saturday was awesome. It was maybe one of the best Colorado days I’ve had. And I’ve had so many good days in this place.
Saturday was that good.
The day was practically perfect in every way.
Our alarm went off at three a.m. C and I were well-rested (four hours) and raring to go (mountain time!)
Sandwiches for breakfast and lunch were packed. Plenty of water. Hiking boots. Hats and gloves.
We got in the car and drove one block and picked up Katie and C3 and their friend, Jaleene. I just love living one block away from Katie. Heart it.
And then we drove into the darkness and into the great big wild. Out of the city, down one of my favorite roads on the front range of Colorado, Route 285.
We pulled off near Fairplay and ended up trolling down a long, beautiful dirt road. Cattle in pastures. A moon in the sky above the muted landscape.
We parked, got dressed in our warm gear and started our ascent. Mount Sherman – 14,036 feet.
We scrambled over piles of mine tailings. We walked carefully across ridges as the wind blew so hard I could feel it whipping through my insides. And at the top, once we high-fived each other and other Mount Sherman climbers, we ate some really delicious sandwiches. Katie promised that when we reached our destination and took that first bite of sandwich, it would definitely be the “best sandwich you’ve ever eaten.” She was right.
I conquered my first 14-er.
Crows.
I have been terrified of them since seeing this documentary on PBS.
They are VERY smart. That’s what concerns me. Did you know they’re the only bird known to RECOGNIZE HUMANS? Like, they’ll be nesting in a tree outside your house and will see you in your kitchen, and know who you are. They’ll recall your face. They may even know your name and mobile phone number. I’m not one to speculate.
As of this week, there are crows in our neighborhood. ON OUR BLOCK. HUNDREDS of them. In fact, I’d be willing to say there is a murder of crows hanging out on our street. They are swarming.
We were sitting in the living room yesterday evening, innocently watching girls’ Olympic gymnastics (go Jordyn Wieber!!) and I saw this rush of shadow in the sky outside our balcony.
C and I went outside to take a look.
Black wings and pointy beaks everywhere.
Terrifying.
I averted my eyes as I snapped these photos to ensure my own safety. There’s no telling, though. I was still closer than I’ve ever been to more than just one crow.
Many landed on the building across the street.
See that one in the middle of the shot, looking in the opposite direction? He sees our neighbor and is storing her face in his memory. I’m sure of it.
I think this is witty. It’s smart. Like crows.
Shudder…
She left us with her legacy, and to pick up the pieces of her life. Through stories and tears and laughter, we have started weaving together the chapters of her time on this earth.
C’s Grandma Dietz passed away Monday July 9 and it was quite a shock. Seven days before, we took her out to dinner. Ten days before that, I visited her with C’s mom. Two weeks before that she read a blessing she wrote and danced the polka at our wedding in New York.
And just a few short weeks later, she left this place and all of us.
Her four children, nine grandchildren and four great-grandchildren and their spouses mourn her. Her sister, sister-in-law and many cousins and friends came together to wish her well on her next journey.
Though I only knew her two years, I found her joyful, silly and thoughtful. Her house was warm and inviting and her smile contagious. She loved with a big heart. C loved her right back. I was lucky enough to love her right back too.
When I had been dating C less than a month, he took me on a date with Grandma. That’s correct. I went on a date with C and Grandma. Every year, she met up with her family in Windsor, Colorado, for a family picnic. It takes place the first weekend in August, and it has for a long while. Grandma’s Russian-German small town farming roots brought her to the reunion every year she could.
This past winter, C and I drove Grandma home one evening after dinner and we sat with her on her sofa for a few hours and poured over the family photo albums. She smiled at the sweet kid photos of C’s mom and her brothers and I couldn’t help but get a warm feeling in my heart as Grandma talked about what a beautiful blond baby C was – and how he was so kissable. I learned about Fritz the family dog and a bit about Grandma’s life in Fort Morgan, before the farm failed and she and her husband moved their family to Denver to start a new life in the city.
This weekend, C and I will go to the Windsor family picnic without Grandma. We’ll figure out how to make her famous rival kuga from her worn recipe book and sit under the wide pale blue sky of Colorado’s eastern plains and think of her smile, her warmth and her love.
Saturday morning we woke up with the sun. We drove I-70 west toward the Eisenhower Tunnel and turned off just before Loveland ski area at the Herman Gulch trail head.
We hiked strong. Three and a half miles up a rocky, knotty pine trail above the treeline to Herman Lake.
It was exhausting but worth every sore muscle for the smells of the fresh pine and the heaven-quality mists rising above the valleys below. We were touched by the scenery and cheered the fact that Colorado’s heat had finally broken.
We left Mile High early in the morning because we knew rains were coming our way later in the day. Sure enough, we made it to the lake by 10:30 a.m. and back home to Denver by 3 p.m., when the rains started swelling the clouds. Finally, low rumbles gave way to soaking sheets of water, extinguishing forest fires across the state.
Saturday was a day for celebrating.
The Columbine. Colorado’s state flower. There were loads of them up there. Just delicate and unassuming.
As we picked up the trail on the way down, about a half-mile from the trailhead, we came across men panning for precious metals in the river.
Charmed.
Our Independence Day that fell on a Wednesday was all around warm, lovely, and relaxing.
We spent Tuesday night in with N and L in Lone Tree and woke up to little baby whimpers next door in the nursery and a large gulp of coffee.
The Liberty Dash, much like last year, was blazing hot and dirt-road dusty and in direct sunlight most of the distance. Not the most fun, but certainly satisfying at the finish.
We spent the afternoon into dusk with C and KS in Cheesman, under the trees, drinking beer and chattering in the damp heat that hung over the park.
C made the best fried chicken I’ve ever had (juicy, tender, salty!) as well as some kick bottom coleslaw (colorful and refreshing!) KS and I brought pies.
It was a good day for friends.
This morning I started work a smidge before six a.m. at our dining room table.
This was all for a good cause since I have an appointment this afternoon.
What gorgeous light there has been lately in Mile High. Of course, wildfires and extreme heat will do that to the light. The sky can seem so flat in the early part of the day and brilliant in the evening. This morning, it was in between.
When I was little I owned the movie soundtrack to Disney’s Aladdin. I bought it with my own money while in Disney World with my family. I loved it.
A friend at school asked to borrow the cassette so she could listen to it over a weekend.
Months later when she returned it, the tape inside the cassette was mangled, ruining certain tracks. The cover and lyric booklet were missing.
I was let down. It was one of the first lessons I learned about being careful when letting others borrow something that’s important to you.
I recently had another one of those times – but it was a bit more adult in circumstance.
Nearly four years ago now I was on the verge of breaking up with my then boyfriend, M. I became friends with a male coworker who lived half a block away from me. We starting doing things together M would not do with me — like running Cheesman Park, trying out new eats in the neighborhood and even occasionally making dinner together at his apartment. A few times, he brought me to his church. What I realize now is that it was inappropriate for me to be spending time like that with him while feeling so mixed up over M. I justified each time we spent together by the fact that I was fighting with M and that we were “on a break” and then on and then off and then he hated me and then he loved me and then I hated him and then I didn’t. It was very dramatic and exhausting and there was just very little right about our relationship.
I did end up officially breaking up with M, but not before I poured my heart out to my neighbor/coworker and loaned him a book that was very important to me. It was not necessarily worth any money, but because of the book’s story, and the particular copy’s meaning to me. He knew all this before I loaned it to him.
After a few weeks of spending time with him I realized I was wrong about his loyalty to me – as more and more women came out of the woodwork to warn me that he was a snake who disguised himself as a Jesus-loving, born-again-virgin Christian. I was SICK over the stories I was hearing and so upset with myself from falling right into his sweet demeanor and soft attitude. I used to give myself more credit for being cautious and thoughtful. He even told me on my sofa one evening that if we got engaged he hoped we’d get married very quickly. Less than a week later, he was not returning my calls.
Incredible guilt aside from my own faults those few months, the happiness I’ve found out of this bizarre and 90%-over relationship (I still work with him) is a good girlfriend, another victim (one…or maybe two girls in front of me?) in his very long and almost unbelievable line of untruths and string of vulnerable lady friends. He got married the weekend before me in May and it was all I had in me not to contact his poor bride and tell her his hurtful ways. She probably should know better, because her former roommate was one of the women he suctioned and then left hanging. Perhaps he’s changed, but there’s always a little truth that lingers. Perhaps he’s met his perfect match.
For years now, I have asked that he return the book I loaned him. YEARS. I have asked at least four times a year for three years now. After his wedding, he moved a few blocks to a new apartment and must have physically touched my book to load it into a box with him to his new digs. Still he did not return it.
Finally last Friday I wrote him an email and said I needed the book back. Period. I wanted it Monday. No excuses.
He did deliver it to me this morning at my desk.
The NYC Subway papertag transfer I’d used as a bookmark the two times I read it was missing and a page was dog-eared. (Who does that to someone else’s book?) The paperback was a little worse for wear, but I’ve had it for a long time…and the copy itself has now had its own Denver adventure, much like its characters between the covers.
I’m thrilled this chapter is closed.
