High Country Stampede

The High Country Stampede Rodeo was one of the highlights of my trip so far. Tony and I, and his friends Nigel and Pam (and baby David), watched the happenings with rapt attention, only distracted by the dinner that we shared. Good stuff, that rodeo.

On the way in, I took the best photo all month.

On the way out, we told our best jokes, and here's one of Tony's:

Why didn't the lifeguard save the hippie?
Because he was too far out, man.

I likelikelike it.

Then it was lateness and bedtime and readying for the last long leg back to Portland. Will share details on that stuff soon-ish. xo.

lost and found

I've lost those hazy, lazy boiling days, and as I write, find myself up high in the Rocky Mountains, panorama stretched wide in front of me, on Tony's deck.

Spent yesterday with Rina, hiking dogs around in Boulder, eating burritos at Illegal Pete's, and window-shopping on Pearl Street. Also spent a good part of the day searching for my lost keys, and had almost given up until a friend reminded me I might say a little prayer to St. Anthony, and quietly I did: St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come around. Something is lost and needs to be found. And then, as a little addendum to that prayer, I prayed that if the keys were lost forever, please might I be graceful and let them go easily.

Naturally, I found them twenty minutes later.

With car-keys in hand, I was ready to drive to Fraser to Tony's place. It took awhile, winding my way over Berthoud Pass and down again. Then there I was at Mr. Terreri's condo, seeing my old friend for the first time in six years. Like most of us, Tony's grown better with age: still unshakably himself, still effing funny, still strong and still snarky, but he's softened up a little bit and grown up a little bit, and is warmer and gentler than I remember.

Rina and Todd came up for the evening, too, and we all laughed and joked about crazy old days, and did some catching up. Daydreamy talk about how to change the world, and hopelessness, and the greed of our culture, and how-could-we-change-things late into the night. Asking where our heros are. Learning about this one.

Good sleep, solid eight hours.

Chilling today, checked out a sub-par art and craft show in Winter Park, and headed to The Pub (yeah, that's what it's called) for some lunch in the sunshine with some friends. Now it's naptime. Need to get some rest before we head to..........

.........THE RODEO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Omigod. This is the luckiest thing that's happened in quite a spell.

rolling rolling rolling

My fantasy of deep sleep was replaced with big, slow-moving, raging thunderstorms that kept me up, and kept Vesta quaking, well into the wee hours. I'm not complaining, though... I love a good thunderstorm, and haven't seen one since Sturgis!

Woke up early today, walked V. around in the motel grass for her morning self-care rituals, and returned to the room with more chigger bites than you could shake a stick at. Aargh!

Drove on through Kansas with Boulder in my heart, and though I was tempted to stop at Prairie Dog Village, tempted to drive the extra hours to the worlds second largest ball of twine, tempted to stop at the Custer cavalry museum, or at various other highwayside attractions, I decided instead to take a side trip along secondary roads to seek out local life in the flatlands.

In a tiny town that isn't even named on the map, whose name I wrote down and promptly lost again, I stopped to walk around and take some pictures. Soon I was approached by a local character with wild hair and a face whose skin resembled polished, knotty wood. "Did you just take a picture of that house?" he asked me. I was a little scared, afraid he might tell me to get the hell out of there or smash my camera or something. I told him that I had, and the guy smiled as though this were the most thrilling thing to happen in a long time. I got the complete history of the place (it was once the home of the local newspaper), and some nice morningtime chit chat with this kindly gentleman. He was pleased at my off-the-70 approach to Kansas explorations, and I was pleased that he was pleased. Thank you, sweet sir, for making my day.

Kept on keeping on across lovely Kansas-- Kansas, I adore you!-- and into Colorado where I felt, at a rest stop, dry air once again. So good to breathe and walk outdoors without fear that I will swoon. (Swoon is such a buttoned-up, old-fashioned, romantic word. Don't you just love it?)

The front range appeared before me , and soon I found myself in Denver, checking in with Rina at the Children's Hospital and making plans for the evening. I had some hours to kill, so made my way to a dog park in Boulder, returned some calls, found a wireless hookup and then headed to Rina and Todd's place, in the shadow of the Flatiron Mountains. We walked dogs, got dinner, and now here I am, real sleepy, in a comfortable bed in their comfortable house, my old friends sleeping in the next room, my dog beside me, and my eyelids heavy heavy heavy. Must sleep.