Traveling

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What better way to spend Thanksgiving weekend than with a bit of travel?  The hubster and I made the three hour trek with the greatest of ease, relishing the sunshine and all the wonders of our favorite city to the north.  Here’s a bit of what we saw by day.  Night time photos next week…

This is what Mt. Rainier looks like when you drive by really fast.  Zoom!

I love photographing bridges…

Leaves fall like anywhere else.

Making friends.

Olympic Sculpture Park

Wandering Rocks

Tony Smith

Typewriter Eraser, Scale X

Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen

The handsome hubster keeps his ears warm while looking at art.

Love and Loss

Roy McMakin

This Eagle has landed.

Alexander Calder

We feel blue.

Let it shine.

Rose hips and habitat restoration on the Sound.

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer – it’s digital.

These are a few of my favorite things – art, bees, flowers, and words.

Hello gorgeous.

Fish.

Details like this are the tops.  How long do you reckon this has been here?

The Seattle Public Library

Rem Koolhass, Architect.

Through the mesh.

Evocative.

It means what it says.

We saw twirling square dance dresses – do-si-do.

Volunteer Park Conservatory

Oxygen rich, warm, and humid.

Smells like heaven.

Cooper and Sohn at SMITH.

Another bridge and beautiful sky.

Happy 87th Birthday Grandma – we love you!

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Hello Everyone!  Will you look at that grin plastered on my face?  It’s me, quite giddy that I’ve bridged the twenty years since I’d been in the presence of my friend here, someone very dear to my heart, Ann Balderston.  Actually, now she’s got another “B” name but will always be Balderston to me.  We met in first grade, and though I have zero recollection of our actual meeting, I feel fairly certain that it must have been like lightning striking, because we were pretty much attached at the hip for the next two years.

Every day, on my way to school, I walked to Ann’s house and picked her up before spending the day at Thomson Elementary.  As we both had Ms. Weiss (my favorite elementary school teacher – I had her in first, second, and sixth grade, lucky me!), we’d spend the whole of the day in each other’s presence and rather happily, too, class, lunch, recess, walking home.

As one might expect, I would, quite often, spend the afternoon at her house, playing house, or with dolls, creating wonderfully imaginative schemes to keep us entertained for the ages.  It was such a special time in my life, full of magic.

Part of that, I’m sure, stems from the many firsts tied to our friendship.  She was, my first best friend, the first person to whom I told my secrets and dreams and felt a deep spiritual connection.  It was at her house that I first heard a foreign accent in person, for her mom, ever so sweet and kind, was from England and spoke like someone out of the movies.  Also, it was at Ann’s that I first had tea with milk (and lots of sugar), wax beans, and SPAM – such an adventure!

On another magical occasion, my very first sleepover, I remember sitting in my night gown at the table in the kitchen, sipping tea while Ann’s mom told us a story of some sort.  I wish I could remember what it was about.  We retired to the basement and our sleeping bags and giggled well into the night.

Quite appropriately, it was with Ann that I first found my love of dancing.  This was well into second grade, and being the time that it was, our school was hosting an afternoon fundraiser in the form of a disco.  We played Abba record after Abba record, dancing queens holding hands and twirling around her living room getting ready for the special day.  Sadly, my Dad decided I was too young for such adventures, so Ann went solo, and I imagined us spinning like tops under a glittering disco ball.

Then, as it happens with magic, the spell wore off.  Ann’s family moved to Florida, and I to other friends, other wonders.  She did return the next school year, but by that time we were different somehow, and though nothing happened to make us drift further apart, nothing happened to keep us together either.

But now, in the ever sweet present, we have found each other and a bit of that magic again.  It seems, on many levels, we’ve led parallel lives, both with sweet husbands, cats, bubbling concoctions, gardens, and peaceful, earth-loving ways.  I guess some things don’t change at all.

Also, more photos from my Colorado trip.  Top to bottom:

The Arvada water tower, The North Wing of the Denver Art Museum (Architect Gio Ponti – gosh, do I ever love this building!),  A horse sculpture and beautiful paintings inside the museum, and the last four of Golden, Colorado, home of Coors Beer (my dad worked there for more than thirty years!) and the School of Mines.

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I’ve got good news friends!  I am back in the world of exercise!  Yay!  And I’m not afraid to show my enthusiasm via exclamation points!  There’s four in a row, eek.  Okay, I’m calm now.  Yes, today was the first day I ventured back to the community center to work out with weights and attend my favorite Nia class, not to mention seeing my old work out pals – so very nice.  After being reassured by my doctor yesterday that I would not hurt myself if I was sensible and listened to my body, I was raring to go.  I halved my pre-surgery workout before Nia and felt really good, certainly a bit weaker, but nine weeks without it will do that.  Unfortunately, Nia class was canceled, so I went ahead with the Cardio Pilates they substituted.  It’s certainly no Nia, but it was fine in it’s own right.  I was able to keep up the pace without feeling like I was going to die and had a good time, too.  Major progress while I inch back to a new normal.  Phew!

In other news, here are more photos snapped while in Colorado, more specifically, Boulder and, even better, while the G-Man was still with me.  It was a beautiful afternoon on the Pearl Street Mall.

Though there aren’t many in the photos, there were lots of people on hand, the diverse mix that is ever so Boulder.  Pictured above is one of our favorite Mexican restaurants ever, Juanita’s, at the west end, beyond the majority of the chaos.  We haven’t been in a while and didn’t even go that day, as I had a hankering for Pad Kee Mao, but it does look just the same.  There is always comfort in that.

We also walked the neighborhood surrounding Pearl for a bit and encountered this lovely wall.  I am a sucker for fine masonry and this handsome fella.

This church is no longer a church but either residences or an architecture firm.   My memory fails to recall which.   I love when buildings that have outlived their use aren’t torn down, especially when they are this pretty.  This reminds me, there was a church on the Auraria Campus in Denver that was converted into an art gallery.  I used to love to visit it.  Having a great reverence for art, it was magnified in such a special space.

Away we go – I snapped this as we were driving back to Denver.  Bye, bye Boulder, see you next time!

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,

Colleen

I was tagged by my friend Amber to post the fourth photo in the fourth folder of my collection.  This is not actually in the fourth folder, but the sixth, because the other fourths were photos I had already posted on the blog, and redundancy is such a drag, you know?  You know?  Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

Anyway, this is me outside the Centre Pompidou in Paris about a year and a half ago.  Something about the lighting makes my head look like a giant melon, don’t you think?  That’s not the only funny bit to this photo, well not to the photo, but to the general story of the day.

This is our first day in Paris, having arrived only a few hours earlier.  We were doing our best to stay awake.  At this point we’d been up for about twenty-eight hours, and as we are neither in college, nor rock stars, this does not come easily.  However, I felt like, this time, I was going to be able to make the whole day without napping.  This time, I shall beat jet lag!

Then we entered the museum, and with the hush of the people and all of the marvelous works of art, the cadence changed.  Rather than experiencing the energetic buzz of the city, people moving, cars honking, scooters swerving, we felt the profound quiet of great art and architecture.  We became part of the ebb and flow of the museum, yet found ourselves set wholly apart from it.  The onset of fatigue was so potent that it set off a crazy chain of events.  First, we swayed like drunkards, no matter how carefully we tried to walk – left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.  Colleen laughs as quietly as she can, Gregory laughs quietly at Colleen laughing, museum-goers give sideways glances at the crazy Americans who should have respect for work that is neither silly or funny.  More laughter from Colleen, then Gregory…and well, you know the rest.

Finally, after we had seen everything we had wanted to see, interspersed with lots of breaks on benches to compose ourselves, we waved our white flags in utter defeat.  Jet lag won again.  We slowly walked back to our apartment, climbed the stairs, and collapsed on the bed, sleeping for four hours.

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