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At last, as I hoped, we received our best snow well into spring, two storms in one week, beautifully blanketing the land, finally whitening our most revered neighbor, and sending Juni B. into paroxysms of glee!

I, this morning, with remnants of meals past, made a most delicious bread pudding, not quite in celebration, because it wasn’t as deliberate as that, but certainly elevating the mood of the day.

Sunday with our favorite neighbors to celebrate two birthdays, age four and five. Woot!

Good Monday to you, dear reader. Hello from Saturday’s March on Colorado Springs, where seriousness and a bit of levity walked in harmony. We represented pretty well for a smaller sized city, with about 7,000 women, men, children, and pooches marching proudly for a shared love of our fine nation, the rights of ALL people, and the sacredness of our one Mother Earth. Praise be!

Some highlights:

The black mother and her children, walking with signs that said, “I MATTER!” and the myriad people giving them the thumbs-up.

I (and many others) thanked every police officer present for helping keep everything orderly and safe. Their response? “Thank you!”

The sweet family handing out bagels. The hubster and I shared one. YUM!

The girl gazing at the crowd in awe and exclaiming, “This makes me so happy!”

The signs: The Fempire Strikes Back :: Don’t Tread on My Rights :: I’m Here for the Women! :: Girls Just Want to Have Fundamental Rights :: My Daughters Deserve Better :: A Woman’s Place is in the Resistance.

Our signs were less creative, but no less sincere: Power to the Peaceful! :: Justice * Equality * Prosperity – FOR ALL.

For those who share the opinions of Christy and Chondra on Facebook who felt the march was foolish and are privileged enough to live with security, comfort, and choice, I pray that, should your bubble ever burst, you fall gently on the shoulders of those marching for the rights of us ALL and not in the pit so many of our less fortunate brothers and sisters are currently attempting to climb from.

We are peaceful people who marched to send a clear message to the Administration. We will not normalize misogyny or sexual violence. We will not normalize racism. We will not normalize homophobia. We will not normalize xenophobia. We will not normalize blatant lies disguised as “alternative facts.” Period.

And a final word on No. 45. If he honestly exhibited respect for truth and dignity and TRUE Christian values, I would gladly support him. Over his 70 years on the planet, he has only demonstrated otherwise.


Another glad to be back post for you! We saw Dolly Parton at Red Rocks on Wesdnesday, rolling along home at 1:15 in the AM Thursday morning, a late, late, late night for this pair who is usually in bed before ten.

Hoot and holler was it worth it! I got an awesome hat! I got to see a concert at Red Rocks, the first in twenty-one years. Though I thought it was Pearl Jam we last saw before remembering it was actually Lyle Lovett on the day Jerry Garcia died. He soulfully sang Friend of the Devil to wild applause as his first song, and it made a deep impression, just not a chronological one.

Like much of the past seven months since our return, it brought a whole host of memories streaming back, hanging out with friends, waiting for the music to start, watching wild lightning, getting dumped on, burning in the heat. The shows, of course, the shows! My very first was INXS, in 1986, fifteen years old, thinking I was so cool. Then all the bands: Big Head Todd and the Monsters, the Doobie Brothers, Sinead O’Connor, The Sugarcubes, New Order, P.I.L., Harry Connick Jr., Pearl Jam, and that Lyle Lovett show, too. All of them like it weren’t no thang, when, dammit, it’s Red Rocks – the greatest concert venue in the world! Beautiful, magical, insert a million top-shelf adjectives. Oh, yes.

And then there was Dolly. My goodness, Dolly Parton, seventy years old and kicking ass on the concert stage! Her heart and mind, warm, open, and funny, telling stories. No other band, just her small troupe of fellas that have been with her forever. She played a saxophone, strummed guitar and banjo, picked a dulcimer, blew the harmonica, and tickled the ivories – so many instruments! Her voice the best instrument of all, clear and beautiful and fine. The woman is a national treasure.

For a long time now, the hubster and I haven’t bought each other gifts. We’ve got the love of our dreams and the life we want, so it seemed unnecessary. Until. Until we bought this house and have been working almost every single day for thirteen weeks to fix it up. Knowing that we have about thirteen more. Having that giant dumpster in the back yard for more than two months, big time stinky smelly from a laborer tossing something other than construction waste in it, something oh-so FOUL. Hoping for favorable winds so we could open a window or take a break out back. Yeah, blech.

And then the realization that our birthdays are our FORTY-FIFTH! As a good friend said, halfway to ninety. Holy shit. So we bought a telescope for our mutual delight at star gazing and imagining what if? We looked at Jupiter Wednesday night and three of its moons, Mars, too, from our own, sweet smelling, dumpster-free yard. The wonders of the universe and height of splendor, peeps, the absolute height!

And because I don’t have the attachment for my camera, YET, I snapped photos of my yard gazing while the hubster’s eye was on the sky. Good times, happy nights, and more to come!

Be well…



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