September 2009

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Here are the reasons why our trip to Denver included so much talking and driving, the reasons why it is always so, for that matter.  Whenever we head back to Colorado, we, quite literally, fill our days with special people.  This trip was no exception, driving hither and yon to catch up with friends from the present and past.  Though acquaintances from the past played an even larger role this trip, as Facebook has brought us back in touch with the multitudes from our school days.

Unfortunately, the hubster was only with me on the first leg of the trip, as he doesn’t have much time off from Boyd’s just yet (March 9th, I’ve got my eye on you!).  Pictured with him are Lance and Eric (all with such handsome baby faces!), good friends from junior high and high school.  The trio played on the tennis team together, and Eric was the best man at our wedding.  This was the start to my super sore throat, as we easily chatted, ate, and drank the evening away at Lance’s former place of employment, Riever’s.   Thanks fellas!

If you’ve been with me for a while, you may remember a certain jerk I referred to back in this post.  Well folks, here he is.  “That Tim Brown,” as my dad used to say.  We got re-acquainted on Facebook late last year, oddly enough, at the hubster’s urging, as I was a bit weary.  I know – the man is a gem.  Anyhoo, we had a fantastic time, gabbing away, eating at my favorite Greek restaurant – Pete’s Central One, spending the afternoon at the awesome Denver Art Museum (love the architecture –  the old from my memory as well as the new, a delightful assortment of sharp angles and lines), and enjoying a cool drink and some crisps at Pints Pub.  A very fine day among friends, indeed.

Here’s another fella I’ve talked about before, Steve White, my longest lasting school crush.  We also chatted like mad, zipping through our personal histories of the past twenty-one years.  It turns out I was right about him, too.  All those math skills and not asking me to be his girlfriend translated into a life full of contentment and success with a lovely wife, adorable son, a passion for cooking, and a career in advertising.  I could not be happier for him.

Finally, some ladies!  Stacy and Kari.  We have yet to figure out why we weren’t best friends in high school, as we have so very much in common.  One of those mysteries of youth, I suppose.  We spent our time at one of the best independent book stores in the world, with one of the best names, as well, The Tattered Cover, and their adjoining, and quite delicious restaurant, Encore.  Of course we chatted gaily, and laughed at each other’s expense, and reveled at how marvelous it is to be in touch again.

This lovely portion of my visit was the one I never thought would happen.  Dear Maura, on the left, has a very busy and demanding job that takes her to all points in the Denver-Metro area.  Luckily, the stars aligned and we met, along with Chrissie (who shares my passion for yoga, even teaching it) and her cutie pie of a son Sam at a shopping center in Arvada.  Oh, the places you’ll go!  I know I sound like a broken record, but we delighted in each other’s fine company, as well, and laughed at all the people wanting an Einstein Bagel.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many desperate souls banging on doors after closing time.  Seriously people, it’s just a bagel.

And now, for the big night!  This was the large, though not as large as we’d hoped, group of fine folks from Arvada High School, former home of the Redskins, now just the Reds, as, well, you know, it isn’t terribly kind or PC to say such things.  Ignorance was bliss back then.  This is Ann (my best friend in first and second grade – more about her later), Karen, and Mike.  They’ve all turned out to be such exceptional people.  I am proud to know them.

This is a sweet story – Garrett and Adina secretly liked each other in ninth grade and even shared a dance way back when.  Now they are long-distance sweethearts (she lives in Nebraska) after quite a rough and tumble divorce for Adina.  It’s nice to see something wonderful happening between them!

Hello Jessica and Don!  Jessica and I shared a passion for the color black (no pastels for us!) and clove cigarettes in high school, smoking and enjoying infectious chatter at Paris on the Platte in days gone by.  I am happy to say the chatter is just as infectious as ever – she is a good friend.  As for Don, we used to read to each other during our free period in high school.  He was (and still remains) Tim’s best friend, thus serving as interpreter and go-between in our rather complicated relationship.  Bless his heart, he’s one of the kindest men I shall ever know.

The whole gang, including Mike’s terrific wife Erica on the far right.  It was a highly satisfactory evening for reminiscing  and getting to know the people we are today!

A New Routine

Good morning gentle readers.  I hope you had a good week!  Mine was a whirlwind of driving, talking, eating, laughing, hugs, kisses, more talking, definitely more driving, and sleeping in my grandparents gigantic bed.  In all, it felt like the pictures, a tall glass of delicious boba tea drained, quite magically, in an instant.

It was a week of infinite blessings, of good cheer and camaraderie, of seeing people I hadn’t in ages, and appreciating the wonders of technology that brought us all together.  Life, quite simply, is GRAND.

And now, today at least, I’ve got to figure out what to do next.  I need a new routine.  My body is finally ready for a little more vigorous exercise.  I want to get the self-publishing ball rolling for Polite Society, finish the short story I started before I left, as well as the novel I began last year (The Sometimes Sordid Tale of My Penmanship).  My generous mother-in-law Martha gave me a beautifully bound book of paper, much in need of drawings and watercolors, and my precious Portland friends now have their kidlets in school, so there’s time during the day to be together.  So much goodness, I tell you.  I just need to get it all on paper and figure out a way to do it all, as Mary Poppins would say, “In the most delightful way!”

So rather than recount my Colorado adventures (don’t fret, this will be done), today I am setting my intention to arrange my time so that I can be all that I can be.  Maybe there’s something you’re wishing to organize?  I say, let’s go forth together!

I’m longing to see.

Time for a blog break, gentle readers.  I’ll be back next week!

In the mean time, be well.

Your friend and fellow traveler,


I do not come from a perfect family.  I am not the perfect child.  I don’t call or visit terribly often, rarely send gifts, and can be quite blunt in my assessment of my parents.   In their defense, it has rather little to do with the way I was raised and much, much more with my own wacky Gemini-ness, as my Mom and Daddy did a good job with me and my siblings, all things considered.  We are decent, kind, hard working citizens of the earth.   As well, I love them very much and do not, at all, look forward to their passing.

It is from this same, quite honest, point of view that Christopher Buckley explores the living and dying of his own rather unique parents, the rather famous socialite Pat, and father of the modern Conservative (with a capital C, in his own words) movement, William F., Jr. or Bill, though I can’t really utter the latter from my lips, as it seems too plain for such a dandy of a wordsmith, too vanilla pudding.

As I had hoped, the book is also a rather good time.  In between the sadness and tears, I found myself laughing out loud (no exaggeration – the fellow on the blanket next to us at Vicky Christina Barcelona gave me and my book many a concerned look) at his parents idiosyncrasies.  His mother was an extraordinary dresser and an even wilder liar, sometimes wickedly so.  Yes, liar – and so bold about it too!   As for William F., save for the rules of the Catholic Church (oh how he despaired about not being able to see his Jewish friends in the afterlife), had no qualms about breaking other laws that seem quite logical to me.  Along the same lines, these are people raised in the time of better living through chemicals: popping uppers and downers without a care, smoking cigarettes and cigars, eating whatever they wished, and drinking, oh the drinking!

It is a rather singular approach to grief, love, and letting go of the people who brought him to earth, told with with wit, warmth, humor, and heartache.  I highly recommend it.


We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.

Luciano de Crescenzo

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