Road trippin'

Can't wait to hit the road for Taos.

I'll be seeing my grandma for the first time since September, and my dad for the first time in a few months. I have not seen a lot of my extended family for more than a year.

Hopefully I'll be back with a lot of new blog fodder, and if not, at least some tasty pictures for you to feast your eyes on!

Edit: Baby movement update! I think s/he liked the concert. I felt a "flutter" last night. Imagine holding a little fish in your closed fist and it wiggling around trying to get out. That's what it felt like! Some people describe it as butterflies, and it felt slightly like that. The fish analogy works much better for me though.

I'm just wild about ...

... Harry.

The concert tonight at Red Rocks was outstanding. His band was on fire, and he brought Lucien Barbarin, who plays a mesmerizing jazz trombone. Barbarin was even working it on the stage, lying sultrily across the top of Harry's Steinway & Sons black piano during a rendition of Basin Street Blues. They both sang. Truly a riot.

Harry made jokes ("Boy it sure is hot out here." The temp was in the 50s.), walked across the stage like a drunken sailor while showing us all how they dance in New Orleans, got sentimental about his hometown and the Musicians' Village, played three different pianos and even tried his hand(s) at the bongos.

He sang Jambalaya On The Bayou, directing his big band to "laissez les bon temps SWING, MAN!" He even threw in a reference to his wife, Jill, in the same song.

And during a super jazzy version of Didn't He Ramble, in which the 50-year-old Barbarin also sang a few bars, Harry busted out "Fish don't fry in the kitchen, beans don't burn on the grill. Took a whole lotta tryin', just to get up that hill."

Oh, and the best part?

We were about 10-15 feet away from the stage in the third row. Quite amazing.

Blast from the past

Today I saw a real, live lemonade stand! And they were troopers, sitting on the corner in Montbello in high winds. As far as I could tell, it was two young girls and two adults, perhaps Mom and Dad?

Didn't we all want to run a lemonade stand when we were younger? But this one was pretty high-tech, if memory serves (when the days of a plastic pitcher full of the lemony concoction and Dixie cups atop a card table was all it took, and enough coins in the bank to make change).

It was equipped with two five-gallon jugs, rows of disposable plastic cups and a wooden framing around the table area, all painted lemon yellow with black LEMONADE lettering at the top.

I was just dying to see how much they were charging for one cup!

Gabby rules

Either that's her slogan, or she makes up her own "rules" along the way, my youngest cat is just rotten to the core. But I love 'er!

Goofing around the other day, she looked so playful standing next to the little "fun fur" mouse I crocheted for her.


Then with a flick of her tail -- it has a mind of it's own, you know -- she let out a gurgly, chirpy meow and dashed under the bed. If this is her idea of hiding, she had better rethink it. Every time I see this (and she does it often), I tap on her tail with my toe. She doesn't like that.

iPods, on your mark

I'm borrowing this task from another fellow blogger. Thanks J.

Instructions:
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense. (I cheated here by skipping the iTrip stations that came up...to be fair, only two did.)

How do you feel today? Battleflag - Lo-Fidelity Allstars
What's your outlook on life? Winter Wonderland - Harry Connick Jr.
What does your family think of you? Greenbacks - Ray Charles
What do your friends think of you? Awakening - Michael Mandrell
What do your exes think of you? It Had To Be You - Harry Connick Jr. (instrumental)
How's your love life? I Can Help - Billy Swan
How will your love life be in the future? Fallin' - Alicia Keys
Are you good at school? Disappear - Hoobastank
Will you be successful? Here Comes The Hotstepper - Ini Kamoze
What song should they play at your birthday? The Jitterbug - Harry Connick Jr.
What song should they play at your graduation? Perfect - Alanis Morissette
The soundtrack of your life? Do Dat Thing - Harry Connick Jr.
You and your best friends are? U Can't Touch This - McHammer
Happy times? Weed With Willie - Toby Keith
Sad times? Juke Box Blues - Reese Witherspoon
Every day? Corazonado - Ricky Martin
For tomorrow? Aye Davanita - Pearl Jam
For you? Used To Love U - John Legend
What does the next year have in store for you? Science of Beauty podcast (attraction, puberty, hormones, etc.) - Science Channel
What do you say when life is too hard? Mr. Sunshine - Lori McKenna
What do you want as a career? Nowhere With Love - Harry Connick Jr.
Your favorite saying? U Got It Bad - Usher
How will you die? Ballad of Spider John - Jimmy Buffett (who has arachnaphobia here?!)

Just passing it on

Have a good and "Funnellicious" day.

That's coming straight from the dry-erase board in front of the Funnelicious snack stand at the People's Fair. Not only did the vendor offer funnel cakes, soft pretzels and meatballs on a stick were also for sale.

Belly movement update

OK, after Sunday's post, I haven't felt anything else.

But here is how it went down. I was taking a little walking break with a coworker, and about five paces away from the lobby door to the street, I felt a huge whack on the inside of my belly button.

One kick, punch, stretch. That was it. I explained the feeling to someone, and they discounted it as gas. I've never had gas that felt like that (and was so short-lived..haha). Anyway, after being stopped in my tracks, I waited about 15 seconds and still no movement. I waited all night. Went home and laid still, again, waiting. Still five days later, nothing. I guess I have to be patient.

My nurse practitioner said I should be feeling movement at about 20-22 weeks, and I just passed the 18-week mark yesterday. Still, I made notes of the "movement" and hopefully I'll know what it really feels like soon!

In another weird feeling last week, I felt a silly "ripping" sensation on my tummy. I thought I sprouted my first stretch mark (lovely), but when I got home I didn't see anything (and still no signs of the pesky little buggers). Ladies, it felt like a nylon run. Imagine a big rip in your pantyhose, running up your leg. That's what I felt on my stomach. Weird, I know!

Neon goofs

So I was driving home from work and many many things caught my eye.

First, it was at a salon next to my work. Then there was another one in a convenience store. Yet another one in a storefront on Broadway.

They were neon signs, advertising "OPEN" when the stores clearly were not at 12:30 a.m. After working in my family's restaurant and closing a few times, I learned the one thing we were not to forget is turning off the "open" sign. I guess it's a pet peeve of mine now.

It also is worth mentioning the convenience store on Lincoln is called "Snack Attack." That reminds me of one of my favorite recent Saturday Night Live skits. Click the link below and enjoy...(boy, those cupcakes look good)!

Lazy Sunday skit

I think ...

...I felt the baby move! More on this later!

Fear factor

My worst fear still is having another miscarriage. After learning another dear friend on one of my grief and loss message boards is losing her baby at 12 weeks, I realize lightning can strike twice. (In my case, three times...) The only words I can muster is, "It's not FAIR!"

I used to get so angry at girls/women who found themselves with unwanted pregnancies. There are good women all across the world -- at least three women I hold dear to my heart -- who cannot bear their own children. And they want to. Desperately. When I went through each of my losses, I felt like I saw pregnant ladies everywhere. I got mad. I didn't understand this anger. Why are they round and happy when I've lost three angel babies in nine months? It's just part of this cruel but necessary process of grieving.

Nobody should ever have to lose a baby, but it happens, and that just makes me relish in the fact this pregnancy is relatively easy. I say easy because I'm less worried about the things I cannot control. I can do all I can up to a point, as in eating right, not doing any heavy lifting, driving safe, getting enough rest. But the things that are out of my hands are exactly that. Out. Of. My. Hands.

So this morning, I cozied up with my rented Doppler again, not sure if I should send it back by the first of the month or keep it a little longer. As I pressed the wand a few inches below my belly button, there it was. My little baby's heart beat chugging along, sounding anywhere between a galloping horse, to a light "thump, thump, thump". My sister-in-law described it as sounding like shaking a piece of sheet metal (she's right!). I've described it as a "swoosh/swish" noise. Just as I steadied the wand in place, the heartbeat grew stronger and louder, then it waned. Then I heard a noise -- the baby doing a flip or a turn? -- I guess I won't know. But s/he was moving around in there, dodging the wand then cozying right up next to it, as if to say, "Look, Ma, I can swim and do somersaults and move around all I want to in here."

It made me smile. It also made me be thankful for what I've got here. This miracle of pregnancy never ceases to amaze me.

The Bunnski

I have to get a picture of this today when I walk by, but yesterday, I saw a little sticker dressing up the blue mail box on the southeast corner of 12th and Bannock.

It's a picture of a rabbit on top of "THE BUNNSKI" lettering. On the upper-right corner is a blank text bubble, like in a comic strip. Does this mean you fill in the blank as to what the bunnski is going to say?!

I Googled it ("the Bunnski", exactly) to see what came up, and there's one photo on Flickr with the Bunnski trio -- three of the same stickers affixed to a window above some very creative lettering. Check it out.

Edit: As you can see, I got those snapshots!

Dream weaver

In the past week, I've had the most odd dreams! Here's a sampling, and just in case you wondered, it's one of the symptoms of pregnancy.

1. A home invasion. C. and I were in our townhome, but there were "people" there watching us. They didn't hurt us, just terrified the crap out of me. So we were trying to create a diversion, find a way to get out of the house. Since they had turned out the power, I had this idea that we light some matches up close to the fire alarm and when the sprinklers went on, we'd magically escape through the back door. (We don't even HAVE sprinklers!) So there I was spending book after book of matches under the fire alarm since the ceiling fan kept blowing them out. Plus, the guy who smokes (C.) didn't have a lighter. Go figure. Well, I succeeded finally, and we ran out the back yard, and just then, I cried "HELP!! HELP!!" And that was out loud in real life, so I woke up C. in the process and he calmed me down and I went back to sleep!

Later, when I was explaining this dream to him, he kept finding holes in my story. It totally made sense in my head while it was going on, but who makes sense of dreams, anyway? For one, he said if we're trying not to call attention in the DARK, why would we be starting matches? If the power had been cut, how was the ceiling fan on, etc. Gee, thanks for the comfort. :-P

2. Food dreams. I've had more of these, but this one stands out. There was an old lady with her white hair tucked away in a bun, and she was wearing a frilly apron. She was making buttermilk biscuits, her hands and apron white and powdery with flour, her biscuit cutter moving swiftly across the dough. When the biscuits came out of the oven warm and flaky, then came the country gravy with sausage. It was one of the best food dreams I've had. Homemade country gravy and biscuits. YUM!

3. Cheating dreams. Either me on C. or, more often, him on me. This one was him cheating on me with a real person I know (a distant, distant friend of a friend). I obviously won't say who, but this person is 20 years his senior, has a gruff voice and almost reminds me of another person I've met called Butch. It is hilarious in retrospect. I found out C. had been sneaking out with said person to rendezvous in her minivan. Ew. This probably was partly because of our talk the other day about how he doesn't want to be a "minivan" family. Luckily, our soon-to-be family of three won't require a big passenger vehicle!

4. Another type of kidnapping/home invasion dream. This was just last night. I was being held captive in a one-room structure, with dirt floors, ants all around and a tiny little stove top. Out the window, I could see sagebrush for miles, and mountains in front of a gorgeous sunset with terrific colors. There was another girl with me, and just when we were ready to make our big escape (and me moving rather swiftly with a swollen belly), our captors were walking back across the field carrying two brown bags of groceries each. There was lettuce peeking over the top of one bag, oranges in another. Does this qualify as a food dream? Like we weren't leaving now that fresh produce was coming our way?!

Can't wait to see what my brain cooks up tonight!

Things that make you go . . .

. . . hmmm.

Our newspaper's health and fitness editor walking past the stairs to take the elevator to the parking garage.

Signs of spring

Seeing all the brightly colored spring clothes cropping up around town, I thought of the equally bright houses and other structures C. and I viewed while riding from Braco to Montego Bay in Jamaica.

The hues snapped against the blue sky -- yellow, blue, orange, green, red, peach, teal. One structure popped out from behind another, sometimes in time with the music coming from the taxi driver's radio on the drive to the airport. We even spied some metal palm trees painted in bright colors.

The one white building that would leave a lasting impression on me is the Rose Hall Plantation. It rests on a hillside east of Montego Bay, peering down at the road and coastline below. Here lived Annie Hall, the "white witch" and a figure of Jamaican folklore. Though we used our trip as a re-energizing, we didn't do any sightseeing. This tourist spot would be on my list should I ever return to this side of the island.

Click here to read a little snippet.

To Moms everywhere

This is for all the "Moms" in my life, I hope this day truly is a special one.

Shoot, I forgot to buy that Prius

Six months ago, I was "complaining" about the price of gas at the nearby Pilot station.

Just last night, it was more expensive than the diesel price. "UNLEADED $3.079" was staring back at us in bright red letters. C. was asking me why gas has gone up so much in the past month. I say it's the season. Memorial Day is coming up, along with all those road trips.

Luckily, we have a Nissan that gets about 27 mpg and a Kia that averages 33 mpg. We did the math for our upcoming trip to Taos, N.M., and by driving the Kia, we'd save only four gallons over the length of the trip. That's a savings of about $12-$15.

C. and I are willing to pay that for the luxury of cruise control, power locks and power windows.

So what are you paying in your neck of the woods?

Toilet humor

Warning: Pregnancy complaints ahead.

Every morning, I marvel at the capacity of the human bladder. After some cursory research, it's about one liter, give or take a few ounces. So with a growing uterus squishing my bladder and all the extra blood volume in my bod, it's no wonder I feel like I have about five times that amount when I awake in the night, sometimes four times, and stumble toward the toilet. Is it mother nature's cruel little joke of getting us "used" to the overnight feedings? That's one theory.

I just want my sleep.

Drumroll, please

I'm pregnant! In my 14th week, to be exact (which also means I've officially entered the second trimester). I'm due Nov. 1!!



An excerpt from one of the many pregnancy Web sites:

The second trimester is typically experienced as the most exciting yet enjoyable of the three -- the morning sickness is gone, you definitely feel and look pregnant, but you’re not yet reaching the overstuffed lumbering mammoth state.

True? Well, I'm still suffering from morning sickness, cravings, and all the other fun stuff pregnancy brings (gas, bloating, dizziness, headaches and an overall "blah" feeling, but only part of the time). But we have seen the little "pumpkin" on the ultrasound. S/he was about 7 weeks old at the time and there were two gestational sacs. Twins? Maybe at first, the doc said. But now there's one healthy dude or dudette in there. Plus, we have heard the heartbeat. Honestly, it was the sweetest sound I've ever heard in my life. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh... I have a .wav file of it if you're interested in hearing it (says the proud mama).

Want to take part in our baby pool? Here's the link (or find it in my "Links" section):

Scratch-my-head moment

Walking past Civic Center Park, I saw all the worker bees hustling to get their booths set up for the Cinco de Mayo parade and celebration.

Just then, I walked by a man setting up a sign that touted "Gyros!"

... for Cinco de Mayo? I know, I know, but it at least gave me a giggle.

Money

After months of parking along a street about 0.6 of a mile away from work where there are no meters, just "timed" honor-system-type parking for 2 hours (I tend to stretch the limit a little), I parked at a meter today. Excuse? I was running late. Really late.

I have my little cash key, and when I inserted it into the slot, I felt robbed. Four bucks to park for four hours before I could move my car safely into the garage at work. Boy, am I spoiled.

Bunch o' savages in this town

To steal a line from Clerks, there truly are a bunch of savages in this town. Grr!

On my way home from work, I caught a glimpse of some idiot's graffiti on our neighboring 'hood's welcome sign. You know, the signage that signifies the name of a certain community? Well...three big characters scrawled in black covered the entire sign, and it has to be 8+ feet high.

Luckily, ours hasn't been tagged yet. It's probably our sign's size (3 feet tall with dark brick) and lack of room to vandalize. But it seems week after week the sign across the street gets hit. What gives?

Reminds me of the graffiti we saw stamped on several fences and buildings on our way to the Montego Bay airport. Simply put, it read "Big Nuni Singer."

Hmmm...

Run to the Roses?

With only five and a half days to go before the Kentucky Derby, a memory returned from our recent trip to Jamaica.

On the third night of our trip, we had gone to the main drag of the resort to watch the nightly activities. But we thought we were too late, so we headed on to dinner. About halfway through our meal, we heard the announcer, then we heard the familiar tune.

My Old Kentucky Home, the song that signals the start of the Run To The Roses, was playing over a loud speaker. The crab races had begun.

Though we didn't see it, it sounded hilarious. The races were complete with crab painted with different colors, a play-by-play announcer and cheering fans.

All we needed were mint juleps and some stylish hats!

It will be hard for me to watch this year's Derby without letting out at least a tiny chuckle.

The motherlode

Today while walking into work, I spotted a black pigeon standing atop the cracked concrete and blacktop. Partly on the sidewalk, partly on the street, partly in a drive way, it was feverishly picking food out of the crevices. S/he gorged on something that was an afterthought by one of us humans, perhaps dropped by a patron of Cap City Tavern in the 1200 block of Bannock Street.

Nachos? Chips? Whatever it was, this pigeon hit the lotto.

Gasp!

My 7-foot wooden ostrich is gone!

Not knocked over, not broken, just plaine gone. Who will I wave to every night I drive home from work?

Thank you, Easter Bunny

Well, the furry little dude didn't happen to hit my place, but that's probably because I skipped church this weekend. For some of us, this means the end of lent and fish on Fridays.

Anyway, hope everyone is having a wonderful Easter, Passover or plain ol' spring weekend!

Another bizarre day

Later, while moving my car into my work building's garage around 6 tonight, I spied a man with glasses and a hat walking against the wind down Colfax Avenue (sometimes the most bizarre stretch of road in the city and beyond).

Beneath his charcoal wool coat was a ruffled white skirt. Beneath that were black leggings. He wore flip flops with white straps and seafoam green soles. I couldn't stop staring at his frilly skirt. Nor could the man walking in the opposite direction toward the capitol.

What will I spy tomorrow?

Cow town

Walking to work this afternoon, I had a weird tickle in my nose -- and then it hit me.

It smelled like manure. In the middle of the city.

For the entire 15-minute walk, I clutched my sleeve close to my nose and mouth, almost excited when I walked past a smoker on the street because for once, it didn't smell like cow poop.

(And it almost seems appropriate to take a dig at real cow towns Greeley or Lamar ... but I digress.)

DEN-DFW-MBJ

In eight hours, I'll be on a plane to Jamaica, by way of Dallas Fort Worth International Airport.

I'm packed and have my entire week planned out. It consists of ... nothing! I've been a little stressed in the past month, so this break comes at a great time. About all I have time for is swimming, spa-ing, lounging, napping, eating and drinking. I might squeeze in a little more napping ... (But I don't want to overbook myself.)

And with the Internet cafe at our resort coming with a premium, I'll check back with y'all next week! I hope I have a tan by then. :)

"It's a llama!"

For the past month or so, I've noticed an unusual creature peering at me from the side of the road when I drive home after work.

It's a 7-foot wooden ostrich, yellow beak, knobby knees and all, decorating a small patch of grass in front of a sign shop (Eye Candy Graphics) on Broadway near Curtis.

The first few nights I noticed the black body, long legs and beady eyes, I had to steal a look from my rear-view mirror. Did I see what I thought I saw? Now I look for him almost every night, and the few folks who seem to always be waiting at the bus stop just a few yards away act as though there's nothing wrong with this picture.

Edit: Why haven't I noticed this before!

Beauty

When I walked into the break room at work to heat up my burrito, there it was, happily staring back at me.

Ribbons of pink and blue sky filled the view, full with the majestic Rocky Mountains and the sharp edges of the City and County Building. I am so glad we get another hour of daylight to see this beautiful landscape of ours.

Note: I'm moving a little bit slow this afternoon after making that time change.

Josephine's alphabet

A--Available, Married or Single: Married.
B--Best friend: Rod ... and Monique.
C--Cake or Pie: Pie.
D--Drink of Choice: Ginger ale, Diet Dr. Pepper.
E--Essential item you use everyday: Hmm. My blender for a smoothie or the coffee maker.
F--Favorite Color: Purple.
G--Gummy bears or worms: Bears. Cherry flavor.
H--Hometown: Denver, Colo.
I--Indulgence: Designer handbags.
J--January or February: February.
K--Kids and names: Booty and Gabby, my four-legged kids.
L--Life is incomplete without: Family.
M--Marriage Date: Nov. 19, 2005.
N--Number of siblings: 1. A brother who is OLD. :)
O--Oranges or apples: Oranges. God I love OJ.
P--Phobias or fears: Not heights, not snakes. Spiders. Ick.
Q--Fave quote: This, too, shall pass.
R--Reason to smile: Hard to say.
S--Season: Spring and fall are my favorites.
T--Talent: I can tap dance. And I can crochet and knit.
U--Unknown fact about me: If I say then it won't be unknown any longer.
V--Vegetable you don't like: I like most all of them, but I might say raw onions.
W--Worst habit: Being consistently 5 minutes late.
X--Xrays: Don't like the ones at the dentist when you have to bite down on that little plastic thingy. Stay still!
Y--Your fave food: Grandma's cooking.
Z--Zodiac sign: Aquarius.

Let it snow

Just when the tiny patch of snow remaining on our equally tiny patch of grass was threatening to leave after the warm temps this week, more white stuff started to fall late Friday. Or I guess it was early Saturday . . . about 12:30 a.m. when I was on my way home from work.

And the moment the temperature was just right, the snowflakes arrived. But it was more like a rush of the tiny flecks dancing across the headlights of the oncoming cars. Whoosh. It is here. And I have two Netflix movies, a chest full o' yarn and plenty of lounging intentions for my Saturday off. Don't be mad if I fail to answer the phone. :D

It's in the air

A few days after Denver failed to break the record of consecutive days with snow on the ground, it's starting to take shape.

You can see it all around. Before Tuesday, we had dealt with snow cover for 61 days. Sixty-one long days with some version of the elements on the sidewalks -- be it slush, ice, snow or a mix thereof -- and it wasn't always fun walking a mile each day when I come to work.

But the past couple of days when I made that short trip on foot, I saw more and more people getting brave with their wardrobes. Shorts. Flip flops. Skirts. Capris. Strappy, open-toe pumps. No coats. No hats. No gloves. No scarves.

At last, spring is in the air!

Eww

Getting ready to return the moldy birthday cake to Safeway (not Albertson's as I originally had thought). Imagine my surprise when I'm serving up slices of the white cake with pink icing, and all of a sudden there's a moldy circle about two inches in diameter staring back at me from the spongy cake! Someone called out, "It's a blueberry. Don't worry!" It was almost eerie how indifferent people were about it. We popped out the mold and kept serving.

Funny thing, I didn't eat a slice.

Graduation

A day after turning 33, I am finally yielding to all these cold symptoms. They began three nights ago -- my sore throat masked as heartburn -- and today I just s t o p p e d. I've been going full blast since Wednesday, so it's no wonder this cold is taking control when my body is at rest.

But don't fear. I've taken some meds (drank my OJ, too), traded my PJs for some equally comfy lounge clothes and after cooking a late breakfast of blueberry pancakes, I am graduating from the bed to the couch . . . where I plan to stay all day long.

New meaning to "airport gifts"

As a kid, whenever Dad traveled, we always wondered what he brought back from his trip for us. These little treasures quickly were dubbed "airport gifts".

Sitting in a Minneapolis airport a few weeks ago, I saw a bit of Retail America that I fear has gone too far. Behold... the electronics vending machine.



iPods in pink, green and blue? Cameras? Headphones I get. But cell phones and Bluetooth? So many questions flooded my head. What music would you listen to? How? If no music or videos, would you be forced to stare at your fancy new possession on a 3-hour flight? Or would you be able to download, at 99 cents a song, some music from the machine's iTunes?

Swipe card. And for some people it's just that easy.

Yikes

Thirty days since my last post. That's a bit frightening.

I have had many ideas for posts, they just have not made it here yet. But for starters, here are a couple of photos of the City and County Building, as seen from my view at work. There is still snow on the ground, despite the rapid meltdown after a 60-degree day this week.


Since I took these photos, the lights are coming down and it seems like the world has adjusted to post-holiday life.



P.S. The red 't' on the Benjamin Moore sign has been fixed!

The seen

While driving home from work Sunday night on a giant neon sign at Park Avenue West and Walnut Street:

Benjamin
Moore
Pain s

The red 't' had burned out.

Even a fox

Anticipation was in the air as the three of us walked down Bannock Street in Denver. The clock hadn't yet rang 6 o'clock and people were milling around the City and County Building waiting for someone to set the holiday lights aglow. Vendors sold glow-in-the-dark merchandise and flashing "sun"glasses among other goodies. Bundled up, citizens walked past heaps of snow and up to the nativity scene, looked up and stared at darkness.

As we neared the end of the block, lights still unlit, one of us spied a tiny fox. Its feet painted black and its tail whipping about, the little critter hopped alongside the building, seeming to be filled with excitement at the firing up of the lights, but we all knew the shy creature was just plain scared. It was searching for a tree or bush to hide behind, yet too much action was going on nearby and it was evident the fox could not relax.

Still, there it went - Hop! Hop! Hop! - not even letting the fact it only had three legs (the lower hindquarter was missing) slow it down.

Snow days!

I've been home all week anyway, but over the last two days I couldn't leave the house if I wanted to.

Denver was buried under 2 feet of snow and blizzard conditions for about 36 hours, ending earlier at noon today. But now, the sun is out (until it sets in about 15 minutes) and our driveway and neighborhood streets are still covered under drifts up to 5 feet tall.


This was a view from our master bedroom last evening. Yes, that is a street in our complex filled with mounds of snow. I think the plow truck got stuck; at least that's what it sounded like last night.


By the look of it, the sun has a lot of snow to melt in the coming days, including the massive amount on our rooftop.

Lest anyone worry, C. and I have plenty of food, drink and stuff to do. To wit, he has been playing a Tom Clancy game on his Xbox while I've been uploading photos, updating this space and sending e-mails to friends far and wide. Yesterday, I baked 11 dozen cookies and 16 mini loaves of lemon and pumpkin bread, wrapped them in cellophane bags and prepared to pass out the holiday cheer. I think a game of Scrabble might be in the cards later. Today, I even have done a bit of crocheting and knitting. (Below: Thanks, G., for the new Ballband Dishcloth pattern! As you can see, I'm loving it and almost have two scrubbies completed! Thank God I buy the kitchen cotton almost every time I'm in the craft store. It's so inexpensive at just over a buck a ball.)



That is all for now. I hope you and yours are staying warm and safe!

Holiday update

So it's 14 days to Christmas and I've got nearly all of my shopping done. Greeting cards are out and all but one package has been sent. I just have to finish crafting a couple of gifts before I'm done for the holidays. This is much better than last year :)

And I do have plans to do a little baking. Can't wait to fill the house with good smells of pumpkin, banana and lemon bread! Now I'm hungry.

Countdown!

I've decided to make my countdown ticker (above) into a regular feature. I guess I'll have to find new reasons to count down to an exciting date! (My birthday could be the next one, for instance.)

Hope you like it. Let me know what you think.

Holiday tidings

With my Christmas tree twinkling across the living room walls and holiday music in regular rotation on my iPod, I wish thee a very happy holiday season!

P.S. My goal is to do the remainder of my Christmas shopping online. The mall just isn't worth it.

Sound advice

Just read inside the cap of my Jones Black Cherry Soda.

Encourage tranquility if you are feeling agitated.

Good advice considering I haven't done a lick of work after being here for an hour (our system is on the fritz).

This might give me more time to view the lighting ceremony at the City and County Building across the street from work. Should be quite a treat!

Howdy, partner

On a recent trip to Tucson, Ariz., I took a little walk on the Sabino Canyon Trail, which peeks into the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains. Thirsty for adventure and armed with my trusty Nikon digital camera, I set out with my family. We agreed on a 2-mile stroll.

Just before the midpoint of our walk, I saw this massive saguaro very close to the road, peering from high above the trail. So I stuck my camera at its trunk and pointed skyward. Here's what I got.




Just beyond the 1-mile marker on the path, I saw the destruction that the area's monsoons can bring. In the summer, a gushing mass washed out a wide path of the road, which had since been rebuilt. But still below in the wash was the debris of heavy boulders and once-strong trees, pushed aside as though they were feathers. The tree skeletons looked like the mangled vine of a bunch of grapes after they've been eaten. And from afar, the mudslide marks on the mountain face look like scratches made on a painting before it is dry.

P.S. Wildlife surprise No. 1: At sunset, a doe and her two little ones scampered away from the trail into the thick brush peppered with different types of cacti. The moment was merely seconds, and efforts to capture it on my camera were in haste.

P.P.S. Wildlife surprise No. 2: On the way to the airport, my cousin M. was maneuvering our way up the driveway and we spotted a bobcat with eyes trained on something across our path. The small, quick animal saw us, then made after his target -- a black house cat that was lumbering low to the ground, bounding for any sign of safety. Our guess is we startled the bobcat so much, we might have saved the other kitty's life.

Sign o' the times

On my way home from work one night, I had to laugh at myself.

Out loud.

I had caught a glimpse of the new price of a gallon of gasoline on the electronic Pilot truck stop sign off Interstate 70 and was appalled it had gone up.

The new price was $2.13 a gallon. A few months ago, people would have given away their first-born for such a price, but since the sticker price has gone down in recent weeks, I found a one-cent hike surprising. Silly me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be paying in the low $2s for gas, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish it was cheaper.

Update: This same gas station has unleaded for $2.099 a gallon. Score.

By request

Here's a view of my paper's new building, as posted by request.
(And the story my paper ran about it can be found here.)

More photos

Since I neglected to direct y'all to the rest of my holiday photos, I figured almost a week later wouldn't be bad. (Sorry 'bout that.) As you hum your favorite Mexican folk song, click here.

'Nuff said

Between swigs of a Pacifico and after a serenade during our trip to Puerto Vallarta, I saw this studded message across the back of one of the musicians. With a mouthful of chips and guacamole, I ran after him to capture this picture.

Love is powerful, indeed.

Seasons collide

Fall met winter today, and there were signs everywhere.

First, this view out of our back yard shows the leafy tree bogged down with the weight of the overnight snow.

Later as I walked to work along Broadway, I stepped over slush and soggy leaves. Some where taupe, some bright golden, some red and a few green ones, not paying attention to the chilly temperature. I even saw some leaves that escaped the wet precipitation, crunching under my snow boots as I motored past the capitol.

But don't worry; I won't be freezing off my derriere. The forecast for the weekend? Upper-60s and clear.

I love this city

Two new reasons I like working at the new DNA/Rocky/Post building:

1. Walking into our newsroom's cafeteria in the late afternoon, I saw the most beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains. Twilight was near, and the snow-capped peaks lined the view behind the Denver City and County Building. Talk about purple mountain magesty.

2. Through the same floor-to-ceiling windows later that night, bright pink lights shone on the top of the City and County structure in honor of breast cancer month.

They were both glorious views, enough to make me take pause and forget (even for a second) the stress and hustle of work. Take a breath. Drink in the view. It also reminded me of the treat that is coming soon, when that same building will be smattered in holiday lights and other decorations. 'Tis the season.

I'm baaack!

Sorry it has taken so long, but lest you worry, I have brought back plenty of ideas for this space from Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico. (And a few before that, which, sadly have not made it here yet.)

Stay tuned.

Cat and mouse

According to these two little critters, 3 in the afternoon means playtime in the park. A pair of squirrels, whipping and twitching their tails around, were playing a little game as I walked along Civic Center Park.

Squirrel A would run about six steps as Squirrel B closed the gap. 'A' would stop, letting 'B' catch up just long enough to draw in a breath (a little squirrel breath!), then it was off to the races again.

Squirrel A ran about a foot up a tree trunk, then made a beeline to something yummy in the grass, then across the fallen leaves, all the while with Squirrel B in tow. Their game played out quickly, darting around like birds that change direction just when you thought they wouldn't. What a fun day in the park!

Sing it, baby

Since I've been walking a lot more due to the parking situation at my new work building, I see many many savory characters along my route of either Broadway or Colfax, sometimes both. I had just dropped off a couple of letters at the mailbox off the 16th Street Mall and Broadway, so I headed back down Cleveland Place and saw him.

A man who looked like he was out of the Old West: black Stetson, a wanna-be handlebar moustache, dark boots and jeans with a shiny belt buckle and a red Western shirt. But the catchy part was his singing. He had a pair of black headphones wrapped around the back of his neck and was singing at the top of his lungs. I heard him over my own headphones and promptly stopped my music to listen. As he got farther and farther away, I could still see the heads a-turnin'!

Odd dog in the park

I only caught a glimpse, but it's now like a snapshot I have memorized.

The day was zooming by quickly -- errands, the daily grind, etc. -- and I was hurrying to work. Suddenly, my eyes caught two figures in a park near the Cherry Creek bike path.

Two yoginis wearing bright colors that reminded me of springtime were postured in downward-facing dog, but the part that caught my eye was the sea of colorful flowers that surrounded them. What a prime piece of real estate they had staked out. I imagined the scent of all those flowers they were breathing in deeply. It reminded me to slow down, to make time for myself.

It reminded me of a T-shirt I bought at a yoga conference a few years ago. A buddha smiles, and beneath it is a sort of demand.

Inhale. Exhale. Ahhhhhhh...

Crazy, 'mon'!

Shame on me. I haven't told this to everyone yet, so here it goes.

It has been almost three weeks ago, but C. and I went to Keystone for a golf tournament he had qualified for. It was The Fan-950's summer golf tour, and after three tries at different qualifying tournaments around the Denver area, he finally qualified and later won.

The grand prize? A trip for two to Jamaica. We're planning on going in late March. Just about everything is included: air fare, transfers, golf (go figure!), meals and beverages at the all-inclusive Grand Lido resort. I'm not quite sure, but I believe it includes scuba diving (on excursions for beginners). Something I read on their Web site also says manicures and pedicures are complimentary.

And just in case you're wondering, C. shot an 82, but the scoring was a Stableford format in which he finished with -1 points.

Not his greatest round, but good enough to win.

P.S. As one friend said, time to get our Red Stripe on.

Remembrance

Over the past week, I've heard various stories from people; their memories of 9/11.

Where they were, whom they were with, what they were doing. What they were thinking.

So I thought of my story. Here it is:

I was living in Pueblo at the time, but on this day five years ago I was in Arvada staying at Mom's house since I had gone to the Broncos' Monday Night Football the night before. Out of nowhere, she burst into the guest room where I was sleeping, shouting "We're being attacked!" Wha? My brother had called her from Minnesota, an hour ahead, and told her, plainly, "Turn on the TV." I think it was about 8 a.m. MDT. I followed her into the living room and we didn't even speak. My dad appeared, he didn't say a word. We sat in silence, watching what so many of us can replay vividly in our minds. And I had to go to work. In Pueblo. I think it was about 11 a.m. or noon when I was driving down Interstate 25, and I saw something that will never be erased from memory. A single man standing on the bridge of Downing or Washington (this is all before the T-REX project) was waving an American flag. It was big, he was small, and that flag flapped to the left and the right, and he just stood there, making his statement. I drove down the highway, listening to a continuous feed of news from the radio, then went straight to the newsroom in Pueblo. Sympathetic faces stared back at me, and nobody said a word to each other. The first thing I wanted to find out was if the high school soccer games in the county had been cancelled. "Nope," my editor said. Shoot. I had to cover a boy's game and I didn't really want to. Begrudgingly, I arrived at the Roncalli Middle School soccer field, where it was East and Centennial high schools getting ready to take the pitch, both teams unbeaten. In the press box, I sat with the scoreboard operator and an officer working security. We tuned the radio to the news. The soccer game was flat, boring, inconsequential. The first thing I asked the boys after the game was, "Do you even want to be out here?" The overwhelming sentiment was no. They wanted to be at home, with family, with friends. Not out doing this. The next day, the school district said it should have postponed games, which is what most districts in Colorado did, not to mention professional sports leagues. It was the right thing to do. I wrote my soccer story for the next day's paper, all the while catching snippets of news from TVs and wire stories. On that day, I couldn't get enough coverage. It was all to satisfy the question that was poking at me all day. The burning question was "Why?"

"Why did this happen?"

Psych

Driving down Broadway on my way to work yesterday, I passed a sign that shouldn't be displayed on a Sunday. It's something at which those of us who have lived in Colorado at any one time (or a lifetime) would furl our brow. As I passed Blake Street, my eyes flashed across the words.

"Liquor store --> OPEN"

Huh? The arrow was just taunting me. I'm sure it was someone's mistake by leaving the sign out overnight, but that's just wrong to make us think we can buy a frosty case of beer or a liter of our favorite liquor from the LQ on a Sunday.

Maybe...

... this will be next.

My latest creation

This sad little wine cork board kit has been living on the top shelf of my laundry room for months. The lonely corks have been sitting nearby, atop the washing machine.

This weekend, I decided (FINALLY!) to do something about it. Working the wine-stained cylinders into the wooden tray seemed easy at first. But it became a puzzle. A pretty difficult puzzle. After struggling with trying to make them fit without cutting them, C. had a great idea: use his pvc pipe cutter. The next day, armed with the pipe cutter, glue, sandpaper and a dwindling amount of corks, I worked another couple of hours and at last, this 16"x16" beaut was ready to hang on one of the kitchen walls.

It gave me a chance to display a handful of corks that remind me of special occasions. The two bottles of wine we drank in Fiji -- one at dinner with new friends, another while sharing a romantic dinner for two on the beach. Another cork -- from a La Crema bottle of shiraz -- was a late addition. There are simply outrageous corks: the Electric Reindeer cork, the only red one on the board, and four with the label "RIBBIT!" A series of corks that have one word on them, such as "heritage", "patience" and "renewal." There's also the lone Whitehall Lane cork, stained with the cabernet of which C. bought an entire case.

The finishing touch was spur of the moment, really. I had saved the cork from a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne C. and I sipped near the time of our third anniversary, the one when we first met. It's a wonder I even found it. I had marked around it "1-6-05 THIRD ANNIVERSARY VEGAS." I cut off the mushroom-like top and here's what appeared.

P.S. Lest you think we drank all these bottles of wine, about half the supplies came from C. He opens loads of wine bottles at work, so that's where we got all the Guenoc, Crane Lake, Chateau St. Jean, Ravenswood, Louis Jadot and Benziger corks in bulk!

P.P.S. You can hardly see them at the top, but when I bought the kit, I also ordered a set of six pewter push pins. They're in the shapes of a wine bottle, grapes and a wine glass.

A sweater for Ted

Ted and his cable sweater, united earlier this month, appear to be quite a happy pair.

Accentuate the positive

The signs have been sprouting all over for the past few weeks. I've been ignoring them, but they're there.

Newspaper circulars. Job openings. Random commentary overheard at work. An earlier twilight.

Since early this year, construction has been going strong on a new school adjacent to our townhome complex. It's the Farrell B. Howell School, a K-8 structure that was bustling with students Monday. As I drove near the school's entrance, I spied eager students tugging at their parent's hand, excited to experience the first day of school.

Elsewhere around town, the Speer Boulevard sidewalks on the far side of Auraria Campus no longer are bare. Instead, individual locks snake around poles securing a smattering of scooters whose owners I imagine are sitting in a classroom listening to a lecture. Maybe they're in one of my favorite little coffee joints on campus, the best place to go when temperatures dropped and snow began to fly. Perhaps they're in the library, a place I never was very familiar with during my six-year stint at Metro State (blush).

Perusing the paper, I have seen back-to-school sales: bargains on hot plates, mini-microwaves, twin sheet sets. There's no escaping it, even as the first of September inches closer and closer. Students talked of the dreaded first day of school. At a neighborhood restaurant, I heard a manager saying his establishment was short staffed since he lost two employees who were going back to college.

I was in denial until I felt a chill last evening. It's time to face it
. . . summer quickly is coming to an end.

On the bright side, autumn, a truly magnificent season, is just around the corner.

Chocolate gridlock

Almost daily, I drive into work and face a massive bottleneck at the Mouse Trap (otherwise known as the place where interstates 25 and 70 meet). Sometimes it's a genuine traffic jam, other times it's the rubber neckers trying to slow down and look at the person peering into their engine compartment while stalled on the shoulder. On Tuesday, it was an accident: A green 4Runner was hit by a massive white van, which was hit by a white Ford Focus. Plain and simple, there's your traffic jam.

But two weeks ago, as usual, I was cursing my fellow drivers and trying to figure out what that day's main attraction was. Don't they all know I have to be at work in 3 minutes? After growing tired of listening to the sports talk radio filter out of my speakers, I saw it.

I laughed. I smiled. I had an intense urge to eat chocolate.

It was the Hershey's Kissmobile. Spreading the message of "every kid deserves hugs and kisses," there rested three giant Kisses on four wheels, and this time, it was pure eye candy on the shoulder that had everyone's attention.

Which made me think, doesn't everyone deserves hugs and kisses? I think so.

43 to the 101

Wednesday marked a momentous occasion for me. I took my first trip into downtown Denver via light rail.

It was out of necessity (see previous post) and desire, as I had wanted to test out taking public transit at the hour I get off work (after midnight). Since my first bus trip in my teens, I have had fascination with public transit.

I fell in love with the subways in the NY/NJ area when I visited five years ago. On my first light rail trip before that, I wished for a reason to ride it regularly. Now I have one.

The only drawback was I had to arrive at the RTD bus stop across the street from my townhome complex 90 minutes before I was due at work. After boarding the No. 43 bus, I had time to scratch out a letter to our friends overseas and another little note for my goddaughter. Then I had time to catch up on some reading.

Fifty minutes later, I was at the 30th & Downing Station, ready to board the 101 D line. After a slight wait and the train's short jog through the north of downtown, I was transplanted onto the 16th Street Mall. I swiftly hopped onto a free MallRide trolley that took me straight to Cleveland Place.

Voila! I was at my new building, and 3 minutes early to boot!

And Friday, I will do it all again.

P.S. The late return trip wasn't as threatening as many people made it out to be. I walked in the darkness along the mall, five blocks to the train's launching point. Waiting seemed to be the worst part, as strangers mingled nearby, including an RTD employee. The Downing Station was a little dark for my taste, but once on the No. 43 line and heading back home, I had time to cozy in and work on knitting a pair of wool socks. By the time I got home, I was relaxed and ready for bed.

R.I.P.

Chris' car, the Silver Bullet has died. After almost three years in our hands, we donate these hard-working four wheels to Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Colorado.

1985-2006

Ted E. Bear is born

Here's what I did with one $2.17 skein of yarn, a circular 6, a stitch counter and embroidery thread and needles. (Oops, can't forget the toy stuffing!)




The lucky recipient? My soon-to-be 1-year-old goddaughter, Isabella. The little brown bear is in transit to her house in Tucson as I type. Hope he makes it there safe.

P.S. For those of you wondering where his sweater is, I couldn't finish that in time to send it! The beginnings are on the needles now, tucked in my backpack. It will be a good project for my road trip Friday.

La "cucaracha"

Chillin' in the garage the other night, C. pointed out a rather large "cockroach" making a beeline, and somewhat quickly, for our feet. Our pal D. and I could only pause and stare.

It wasn't a cockroach.

The camel spider had returned. If you recall, I went medieval on one of these scarily giant spiders last September. This time, C. took a flip-flop and with a loud POP!, that large critter splattered on the garage floor.

Even our 6-foot-8 buddy was grossed out at the sight of the arachnid's corpse. I still shudder at the thought.

The Melty Man cometh*

Ugh.

I'm scheduled for a real-live road trip to the Twin Cities this weekend, and my brother who lives southwest of Minneapolis told me the heat index was 110 degrees. That's right, folks. 110!

While my skin will absolutely adore me, the rest of me might long for the arid conditions of the Rocky Mountains. Luckily, our trip lasts only five days and as a bonus, I hear the forecast features cooler temperatures this weekend. Have I mentioned how I love air conditioning?

P.S. Note to self: Save room in your suitcase by not packing body lotion!

* If you are a BBC America Coupling fan, you will understand this reference.

Oh to the mmm

Just this week, I had a realization bite me in the hiny.

"Yo-, " it said. "Yoga."

Yoga.

When I lived in Pueblo, I would practice regularly at the studio across the river no less than twice a week. I did that for about three years. Upon moving to Denver (almost three years ago), my practice suffered. I tried following a couple of workout tapes at home, but there always was something else pulling me away.

Then as I watched my hubby leave for the golf course yet again, I longed for something in my life to love as much as he loves golf (and I'm not talking about people here but a hobby, a pasttime, a passion). It echoed again. Yoga.

I promptly logged onto the Yoga Journal's Web site for their 11th annual yoga conference in Estes Park. I have been twice and loved it twice. When I was a dancer, I loved attending dance conventions (in Hollywood, Calif.; Phoenix; Las Vegas; Dallas), sweating and working to the beat eight hours a day. My body craved even more. It was the same for me in Estes Park.

Sun salutations to start the day at 8 (c'mon people. . .that's early for me!), a little exploration into backbends or inversions, lunch, and another class to close the day, perhaps on restorative poses. Or arm balances. I could never stop talking about my classroom experiences to my cabinmates. What an exceptional way to further my practice.

And that doesn't even include the teaching muscle. John Friend. Rodney Yee. Patricia Walden. Richard Freeman. Aadil Palkhivala. Ana Forrest. Judith Hanson Lassater. Shiva Rea. Such wisdom tucked away in the picturesque hideaway in the Rocky Mountains. Simply breathtaking.

So now, I have a goal to shoot for. Build up my practice at home and a studio, and at the end of September, I will treat myself, my body to a wonderful weekend of yoga fun!

Where indeed

Sometimes, you just need a laugh. On Saturday, I sure got one.

The sun was beating down on the pavement, but above it all, a cool burst of air was hitting my flush cheeks as I drove through my neighborhood, stereo thumping. With one routine stop at Eugene Way on Andrews Drive, I saw it.

"?Where's Kevin Pistol?"

Staring at the black letters on white paper that was taped to the signpost, I furled my brow and spent a little too long at the intersection, prompting a quick honk from the vehicle behind me. It reminded me of some "random thought" signs a friend has spied in the NY/NJ area. I turned another corner and saw it again, this time on a bus bench and framed by a little black border.

"?Where's Kevin Pistol?"

Where, indeed?

My passion

I've been trying to be much more proactive about the environment lately, so this is the perfect spot for me to share. So many things in our daily lives can be changed, and they can be as simple as changing a light bulb. Keeping your vehicle's tires properly inflated. Buying organic. Recycling. (It's not that hard, people!)

In the midst of my own life changes, I watched an Oprah show (Global Warming 101: Leonardo DiCaprio's Big Problem) that I figured could help me get out the word. We all don't have to go out and upgrade our cars to energy-efficient hybrids, exchange our appliances for those with an Energy Star approval or install solar panels to our houses. (But if you want to, go for it!)

There are so many small "tips" in order to decrease how much greenhouse gas YOU emit. Exchange your light bulbs in your house for CFLs. They last longer. Unplug your TV or computer when you leave the house. Clean the lint screen in your clothes dryer. See? It's easy.

A friend of mine also discovered a very helpful Web site called Ideal Bite. If you ever needed a reason to buy an iPod, here's one. One tip reads, "Eliminate the need for the resource-intensive process of production, packaging and distribution of CD's!"

But seriously, I've kept myself busy trying to implement these quick and easy tips into my own live/home/environment. You should, too.

Negitivity works

In this case, it does.

I just bought a third pair of my favorite brand of shoes. They're pretty cool, and with any luck, I'll buy some boots for the winter, too.

They are Earth shoes, and the negative heel technology claims to correct your posture. Plus, it makes the shoes really dang comfy.

If you're into buying vegan, they make many versions for you, as well.

Stylish and Earth friendly. Who'd've thunk?

Just beat it

I've been trying to track down a soundtrack to Y Tu Mama, Tambien, and as I was walking to the beat of a song that's been stuck in my head for weeks, another beat creeped into my ears.

Crisp. Clean. Loud and getting louder.

I turned the corner outside the Virgin Megastore at the Denver Pavilions and there sat a man, about 20, banging beat-up sticks on a collection of upside down buckets. It reminded me of the percussion show Stomp. I thought of the Buskerfest that showcases street performers, and I seem to miss it every year.

And there he sat, eyes closed, his rhythm turning the 16th Street Mall into a sea of bobbing heads on this warm summer night.

Score!

The song I referred to in my last post is avalable on iTunes. Plus, the entire album is just plain silly.

Get this in your head

C. and I were listening to Sirius Alt Nation last week while working on the yard when I heard this song for the first time. I just stared at the radio with my jaw hanging loose...did I just hear that? Soon after, we were bouncing around the house singing this tune that we don't even know the words for.

To hear it for yourself, go to this page on CD Baby for the band Jesus H Christ and The Four Hornsmen Of The Apocalypse.

Then click on Track 1 (you'll see it down the left side of the page). My work here is done.

The "real" news

A little reminiscence happened this evening while among my peers. We were passing along our favorite stories that appeared in The Onion, and it turns out the always-offensive publication is doing a little remembrance of its own.

Over the next two weeks, the Web site will offer up its top stories of each year, starting with 1996 today, ending a week from Friday with 2005. It will be worth your time to do a little surfing there.

Here, my friends, is a sampling of some of my favorite Onion stories in no particular order.

* Anything by Smoove B.
* Family Dog Suspected Cause Of Miniature Chuck-Wagon Disaster.
* National Funk Congress Deadlocked On Get Up/Get Down Issue.
* Area Woman Not Yelling At You, She's Just Saying.
* All Y'All Urged To Go Fuck Yo' Selves.
* Point-counterpoint: I am so starving.
* Hijackers Surprised To Find Selves In Hell.

Have an Onion favorite you want to share? Post the link in the comments section.

San Diego

I just wanted to share my favorite picture from my recent trip to the San Diego area. The view is the city skyline as we left San Diego Harbor on a dinner cruise while the sun was setting. Luckily I was able to snap this image in the nick of time.

It's only a number

While kicking it at the People's Fair today at Civic Center park in Denver, I was soaking in the sights and sounds -- the rockabilly stylings of my favorite local band, Brethren Fast -- as well as the sun's stinging rays.

Nearby, a tiny tyke grasped a box of golden raisins in her chubby right hand and darted across the wide space under the watchful eye of Daddy. She had a green sun hat on, along with pink ruffled shorts and a shirt to match. I pegged her at about 20 months old, her energetic body bouncing along to the band (I think they were covering Folsom Prison Blues/Get Rhythm from Johnny Cash).

But just after I spotted her dancing, I saw a fifty-something man bouncing along just the same. He had stripped off his T-shirt and frolicked happily to the guitar, drums and inviting bass from B-Fast. Something in the sound made him want to move. My mom and I giggled, peeking glances at the man displaying his midday dance. It looked . . . fun.

And to him, it didn't matter who was watching.

PANcakes!

PANcakes...that is what one youth touring Sea World was so adamant about earlier this week.

This young girl of about 7 years who was accompanied by at least 30 of her peers while, I assumed, on a field trip to the sunny San Diego, Calif., hot spot was carefully tip-toeing along the narrow curb separating the walkway from the grass and flowers adjacent to an exhibit. A little farther down, a maintenance crewmember was digging around a sprinkler head, the sharp blade of of the shovel tearing into the moist grass, exposing the cool, dark earth beneath.

I'm almost certain what he heard next. The volume was rising, and suddenly ...

"...PANcakes!!!" The girl shouted, piercing our ears and I'm sure the still-growing drums of her playmates.

Our guess is she wanted her point to be known. The children around her were telling their stories, and each child chimed in at a slightly louder pitch until all we heard was something to make us hungry for breakfast.

Mmmm. Pancakes!

Every party has a pooper

With high school and college graduations sprouting up left and right like spring flowers, parties of all kinds are beginning to surface as well.

May always has been a busy month for me with almost too many birthdays and milestones of friends and family to count. But, as I reluctantly remember this year, everyone is finding every reason to throw a party. Even I had been dreaming up a party idea of our very own over the past couple of months. (Wine & cheese? Luau? BBQ? Dinner party?)

It's not going to happen.

In light of recent developments, I've been a little antisocial, sleepy, quiet and pretty much reclusive, taking to knitting _______ (insert your favorite here: socks, blankets, sweaters, toys, washcloths) inside my cozy townhome. Separating myself from the couch some days is a chore. Luckily, my dear cats understand this and visit me often for nightly massages. (This, you say, is why my blogging has been anemic of late.)

So, if you've been wondering about me, there's the reason. And hopefully, by the time summer officially rolls around, I'll be back in my social saddle! Cheers!

Smack!

Sitting in the customer lounge at my local Nissan dealership, which recently was outfitted with a flat-screen TV, leather sofas, a fresh paint job and high-speed internet, I grow increasingly annoyed with my fellow Nissan driver.

She sits, scribbling answers to a daily puzzle in the paper, smacking her gum. It's getting louder by the second. Smack, smack, SMACK!

I got to thinking, if everyone has at least one annoying trait, what is mine this morning? The fwip, fwip! of my knitting needles? My disheveled appearance? I can't put my finger on it.

Or it could just be that I can't concentrate due to the constant smacking going on just across the room? I wonder.

Ka-ching!

In a Barnes & Noble, I was jonesing for a cup of coffee.

Not a latte, not a frappucino. Just coffee. Regular coffee.

As oddball as it might sound, I sauntered over to the counter, where a teen with numerous piercings and carefully disheveled hair asked what I'd have.

"Coffee. Small, please."

"$1.51."

For just coffee? Sadly, yes.

STOP!

Caught up in conversation, I must have been in a daze while walking out of a Chinese restaurant with my hubby and two dear friends. Either that or the bright Colorado sun blinded me while I was digging for my sunglasses.

At once, three people screamed at me and the basic gist was a screeching "STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!!" I was about to walk underneath a ladder. And some people think superstitions are a joke.

So, what superstitions do you have?

Thud!

Just as clearly as I was brought back to reality with a tickle in my throat, Denver was brought back to the realization that we have not reached spring. Not yet.

The weekend, the last one of winter, teases of higher temps as we sit shivering in the below-freezing atmosphere. We drug out the heavy coats, the gloves, the wool caps and tossed aside the light jackets we only thought would be sufficient.

All I know is I want to get out and enjoy the warm weather. I just have to wait longer until it gets here.

It's coming

It was there. I could feel it. Warm breezes. Hot sun warming the back of my neck. Fresh, crisp air. It has been in the mid-60s and we haven't seen freezing temperatures since last week.

Spring is knocking.

With the windows and doors flung open, I did my own version of early spring cleaning (including rearranging some furniture) with some help from Mom on Friday. We shook rugs, we scrubbed, we dusted, we vacuumed. We walked on fluffy carpet and tidy floors when we were done. But something drew me back into the not-so-fun times of winter.

It was subtle. A cough. A sneeze. A little catch in my voice. Ears plugged up. Rats. I am getting sick. I downed some OJ, got plenty of rest this weekend (like staying in my PJs until 6:30 Saturday night) and my hope is to fight this crap off before it knocks me down.

Many of my friends and colleagues have not been so lucky. Hope they all get well soon.

No time for a movie?

Now you have no excuse to not see a movie. These little 30-second clips are great! Bunnies reenact our favorite movies. (Sidebar: I really wish Silence of the Lambs was on there.)

Fun stuff can be found at the Angry Alien Web site.

I promise . . .

To all my nearest, dearest girlfriends in the world, I promise . . .

* Not to lose touch, no matter how busy I get
* To listen to you, even when the urge is to blurt out my problems first
* To see your point of view; and I know there will be times when I won't
* To not always pretend like I know what to say; silence, sometimes, is golden
* To be there, at 4 in the morning, at 8 in the morning, in the middle of the day for tea - I'll be there
* To not expect perfection from myself, from you, from my loved ones
* To be accepting, loving, and most of all, to remember to laugh

Cell phone nation

Standing in line at the post office near work, I waited patiently - and quietly - to send a package.

Two spaces ahead of me, a familiar noise broke the silence. It was a ringtone advertising its catchy matador theme. The owner, clearly in his 60s, was wearing a letter-style jacket with a southwestern design on the back. He assured the caller he would pick up more W-2 forms.

Directly in front of me, another phone began to ring. Its owner dug through her purse as the music blared loudly from her shoulder bag, and the phone continued ringing until she discovered who the call was from. After that, she slipped into chat mode, passing the time with a personal conversation.

Yet another ring, nothing fancy, began to fill the air behind me. And another. One, no, two more. And all the while, people continued to chat into their phones, not afraid to let the public hear their one-sided conversations.

A person answered his phone while he was making a transaction at the window, and the postal employee looked more than a little annoyed. I bet she was mentally ticking off the minutes until quitting time.

Later I realized had I been carrying my phone (it was at home, forgotten on the counter), I would have joined in the cell-phone medley with a jazzy rendition of Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead.

Copycat

Yes, I am taking a cue from my friend's blog for this post. I'm interested in your lists. If you're up to it, post one in the comments section below.

10 Things You Don't Know About Me

1. My nickname is Doe, as in "Doe, a deer, a female deer." Mom didn't want people calling me Jo as a child. Too boyish, I guess, but the nickname stuck. Just look at my Web address.

2. I want to try skydiving.

3. I used to play the flute.

4. I danced with tap-dance sensation Savion Glover - my dancing idol - in a "master" class at Denver East High.

5. I had a real-life, paying job as a photographer in college.

6. I secretly (maybe not so secretly now!) want to move near the ocean someday.

7. I won several spelling bees in elementary school.

8. I redesigned my dad's restaurant logo 15 years ago.

9. I minored in mathematics at Metro State.

10. As a 6-month-old infant, I tipped the scales at 20+ pounds. Yikes.

Midnight cowboy

Driving home on my usual route around the Drury Inn off Interstate 70, I had a one-of-these-things-just-doesn't-belong-here moment. First, there are dozens of horse trailers stashed along the frontage road by ranchers who visit Denver every year for the National Western Stock Show. Cowboys start hauling their big trucks and trailers a few days before the event begins; a clear sign the January spectacle is near.

But this cowboy, fiddling with his trailer, appeared to be sweeping up a pile of hay from the cold asphalt. There was a plastic bucket by his feet. Light shone out of the open cab, reflecting off his big belt buckle, but he was all about business. And what task could it be that had him still working hard well after midnight? I guess if he was lucky, perhaps he sold his livestock for a hefty price and happily was preparing a clean trailer to take back home.

I hope that was it.

P.S. Yes, I have a goal to knit these nasty little buggers in the near future.

Obedient friend

Walking with my hubby down the street to our favorite Japanese restaurant in Denver, we spied a pained little soul sitting on the sidewalk. Well, lying on the sidewalk is more like it.

Hind legs glued to the concrete (I imagine his tummy was pressed against the cold ground), he gave us a short glance but got back to his real job - staring longingly at the action on the other side of the window. With his grey and black patchwork coat keeping him warm, the weepy-eyed dog just might have been watching his owner eat a hot Japanese meal inside Taki's on East Colfax.

And as we walked through the door dreaming up something yummy for dinner, we heard the little guy say, "Woof!"

It's here!

The tiny, sleek and stylish 2 gigabyte music device I talked about in my 9/22/05 post arrived in the mail last month, only I forgot to share the jubilant news here.

Snap. It really does work!

F---

Shit.

Double shit.

The scarf I have been knitting for months (well, in between other projects) has become my Cursed Project. I bought the yarn in September, fantasizing about a nice, new, colorful scarf for the winter. And here we are.

About three quarters of the way through, I was unsure of what I had been working up those late nights after work by just a few rows at a time. Just get it done, I told myself. Finish it, then wash the entire thing in Woolite, let it dry and see what you have. It should match the designer's picture. (A statement always carefully phrased in a question to myself.)

But after conquering knitting in the round and completing this lovely beret (which fits me better as a skull cap, by the way) it dawned on me the next time I picked up the neglected scarf that I had been working the wrong-side rows wrong. I was purling in the knit stitches. I was knitting in the purl stitches. NO!

Triple shit!

So I sat, unraveling weeks of work, rolling the gentle but overworked purple Cascade 220 wool yarn back into a ball.

Shit, shit, SHIT!

Undercover

When the sun goes down, that is when we get our second wind.

"We" are the night people. We sleep late. We work late. We check our mailboxes at 1 in the morning. We eat breakfast about 11 a.m. We stop at the 24-hour market after work for snacks, or deodorant, or cat food. We are the people who stop to refuel our cars in "the middle of the night," which, by the way, for us is about 5 a.m.

That's when some of you get up for work during your "normal" hours. As a "normal" (but I beg to differ) woman once told me, our kind of people must miss out on all the "fun times." Yeah, lady, I never have any fun at all. (And this conversation took place on a ski lift at about noon on a Tuesday. Not having fun? Bollocks!)

Fun for me happens all the time. It is going to the grocery store at midnight, picking what I require off the shelves and coasting through the almost-empty aisles, occasionally passing one of my fellow "night people." It is making a dentist appointment and not having to take half a vacation day. It is cruising through the mall at 1 p.m. and not having to fight the regular weekend crowds, which I am sure you are a part of. It is never having to hit rush-hour traffic. It is being able to accept that invitation for a beer late at night and not worry whether I can make it to work the next day.

It's freedom.

Don't wrinkle your nose when you hear what time we go to sleep. Don't wrinkle your nose when you hear what time we actually got out of bed. And, most importantly, don't call us before 10 a.m. We love our lives. We love our hours. So get used to it; it is not about to change.

And the best part is, we don't need alarm clocks.

Dreamboat

It has been over two weeks since my return from Fiji, and it also has been nearly two weeks since my last dream of life on the island.

I was curled up in my fleece robe, tucked in beneath my trusty down comforter and the world around me was of no consequence (except, maybe, for the temperature in the teens outside).

Until I heard a faint, distant noise... What was that?

A low hum. A familiar pitch I hadn't heard often.

Seriously, what was it?

It was a boat. Chugging along past the reef outside the front doorstep of our Kukuru bure on the tropical island of Qamea. It was early, and it probably was transferring a group of the resort's staff to work about 6 a.m. I had heard this noise often during our 10-day stay. Like the beautiful birds singing to each other in the predawn silence or an early fit of rain that would tickle the leaves on the native foliage just outside the window, it was a welcome noise that often shook me from my slumber. A natural alarm clock, if you will. And one that I gladly would get used to given the chance.

Then I realized I was in my own bed, covered by layers of warmth to fight off the Colorado cold. The noise I heard? A truck humming along Interstate 70, bracing for the soon-to-come rush-hour traffic.

A boat? It's a much, much nicer memory when I think of it like that.

Irony

After a quiz, I discovered I am a fruity, tropical concoction ... a mai tai! Click below to see what type of drink you are.

You Are a Mai Tai

You aren't a big drinker, but you'll drink if the atmosphere is festive. And when you're drunk, watch out! You're easily carried away.

What Mixed Drink Are You?

Honeymoon central

Click here to view images from the honeymoon Chris and I just experienced.

Click here to see more of the glorious resort. Click here to see more about the waterfalls. Click here for ... nevermind.

Time machine

Two weeks ago, Chris and I experienced the day that never was.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

We were on an international Air Pacific flight to Fiji; we had left Los Angeles just before 11 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 26, 2005. When we arrived in Nadi, the sun was rising and it was Monday, Nov. 28, 5:30 a.m. Fiji time.

The flip side of losing that day -- a day we never experienced, a day we never really were able to live -- was the Groundhog Day-like experience on our way back across the International Date Line. It was in the morning on Thursday, Dec. 8 when we left Qamea, Fiji. It was 6:30 p.m. Thursday, Dec. 8 when we arrived in Colorado. We had been traveling for nearly 28 hours.

(Note to self: Next time you go to Fiji, book a return flight on your birthday, that way you will have more time to celebrate!)

Ch-ch-chilly

Less than a week back home from the tropics, I can't stop shivering.

Everyone says Chris and I missed the worst of the cold snap (and I believe them what with reports of -13 degrees Fahrenheit), but that doesn't make me feel any better. We returned Thursday to 8-degree temperatures and snow on the streets. We puffed out white clouds of hot breath as we huddled together at the airport, waiting for a ride.

And tonight, while walking along Broadway during my dinner break, I double checked all the buttons on my coat and the knot on my scarf - stopping short of hiking up my socks - to find out exactly from where the cold, cold air was sneaking in. The hair was raised on the back of my neck. Temperature? 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Not bad, you say, for a Colorado winter evening.

I'd still much rather have that number in Celsius.

P.S. That's my new goal. Learn the metric system since the rest of the world uses it, too.

S.C.U.B.A.

Fins? Check. Goggles? Check. Weights? Check. BCD? Check. Tank and regulator? Check.

After ticking off this list of essentials for our first S.C.U.B.A. dive, Chris and I took to Nuku Bay off Long Beach on the island of Qamea, Fiji. We spent the morning in the resort's pool with our instructor, Pana, and learned the odd sensation of breathing air from a tank and viewing the massive world below.

After a 5-minute boat trip, we took a backward drop off the side of our dive boat after watching our new pals from Australia go first. Equipped with our buoyancy control devices, tanks filled with about 175 bar of air, we both took deep breaths in and out and began our descent.

The world underneath us is amazing. Hard and soft coral. Anemonies. Big and little nemos. Sergeant fish. Needle fish. Parrot fish. Sea slugs. Sea cucumbers. I even spied an empty clam shell. After 40 minutes and the deepest descent of 20 meters (oops...we were only supposed to go about 12 meters), we were back at the surface after a decompression safety stop at 5 meters.

What a wonderful, wonderful way to begin our S.C.U.B.A. certification process. We hear there is no place else like it to start.

P.S. Sadly, we didn't see any reef sharks, like we did on our first guided snorkel at the sea fan site around the corner from the resort. One was a small white-tipped reef shark, about 4 feet long -- AND FAST! -- the other, a gray reef shark, was catching a snooze at the sandy bottom. Pana tried to wake him from his slumber so we could see him move, and he scooted fast into the darkness of a coral cave. Sensational!