Pieces of perfect

We stayed at this little darling hotel on the quiet end of town. We walked through the rainy streets with bags and no umbrellas to get there and if the warm colors and adobe spiral staircase weren't welcoming enough, the staff was. They knew our names from the moment we walked in the door and offered us everything from directions to umbrellas to comfort us. The manager, whom I nicknamed Pavarotti because he was singing when we walked in, helped me reacquaint myself with Spanish. It turns out I can find more than the beer and the bathrooms when I'm in Mexico*.

It was an interesting place to see the fusion of different cultures. It always amazes me how if you take the time to talk with people and make the effort, you'll get an amazing response. You go from feeling slightly lost and very out of practice to knowing that yes, even with the barriers of language and culture differences, you can make friends anywhere.

Like the young lady at a small bakery we stopped in for dessert one day. Though it was simply apple pie, there was something oddly magical about her teaching us to call it tartleta de manzana as we ate it and read magazines while Springsteen tunes floated out from the back room. It was a fantastic contrast that settled me. One step up, two steps back, indeed.



The sky also happened to stay in a constant state of bright blue, of which the thought only causes me great discomfort today. It is fifty-four degrees (F) in Colorado right now and I didn't see blue sky all day. Call it nature but I think it's Colorado's karmic way of getting back at me for pining after others.





Mexico, and likely any place if you'll let it sink in, is filled with detail. And just a couple steps away from the mainstream, you'll see this more and more. Little things people do and say that show an effort to be unique. An effort not only to stand out but to do it in a way no one else does. We should each be so lucky to have these efforts noticed. We should be so lucky to always try to make the effort at all.


I must admit, was not enough time. But when is it ever? I took an entire week off running (not to mention every other endeavor) and I have to say, for the first time in a while, I really miss it. I miss the open road and the air being stolen from my lungs. I miss the sweat and the way it clears my mind. Oddly, though I so badly believed I needed to be taken away, I missed my feet being on the ground. And if we know anything at all, we know it won't be long before I'm floating again anyway.

* See Me: 101, #70.

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Last week's guessing game answer: C. I made it up. And if the above didn't make it obvious enough I will just explain by saying I think it would be nearly impossible for me to be friends with someone that so decidedly hated warm weather. There's just a certain basic level of understanding that must occur between friends.

I'm normally not a huge fan of pink

However...

Of course it would happen on a day that I have so much to share

I have to go do some big, supposedly important work task thing. Apparently, there's this job here they pay me to do and I need to go do it.

So, I'll save all my secrets until tomorrow and in the meantime, I'll leave you with some photos that are sure to entertain. Well, entertain me anyway.

Really?

Me too.


Lily

Anyone got a guess?

No words

Thanks for putting up with the shameless kid promotion. I just can't seem to stop pointing out how adorable he is.

Now who wouldn't want to run down this road?

(Look closely, those are balloons. Isn't that cool or am I just too easily amused?)

An open road. Few things entice me more. Even sleep-deprived, in pain and having skipped breakfast, I couldn't wait to run down this.

What sight makes you feel like hitting the road?

And a good day to you, sir

"Do I have time to get some coffee before this meeting?"

"The coffee machine is gone."

"What?"

"Why do you care? You don't even drink coffee."

"I do today, brother, I do today."

You know when you, a 27-year-old woman, start calling your coworkers 'brother' that it's an off day.

And today was a textbook off day. The kind of day where you feel like everyone is looking at you like you've forgotten to wear pants. But they're too nice to say anything so they just stare and think "thank God that's not me without pants." I was so off most the day that all thoughts popping into my head about what I need to write about and how it ought to just start spilling out but isn't were superseded by the thought that maybe I really had forgotten to wear pants.
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So, instead of agonize over writing and thought organization and trying to come up with something with purpose or intent, I will just post some photos and call it good.

I Love You, Mom

Happy Mother's Day to a mom who taught me to see the beauty in everything.

We will all have had enough by the time it's done

The day I bought this camera, I knew exactly how it would be. I knew I'd be the girl walking around with her camera ALL THE TIME. I knew I'd take it everywhere and I knew I'd annoy the heck out of everyone I know because of it. When I was a kid, Unlce Joe was just about as in love with his video camera as any man should ever be with an electronic. We'd joke that he'd "follow you into the bathroom with that thing" if you didn't stop him. He's still a little like that today, though sometimes without the camera. Weird.

At any rate, the point is that Uncle Joe and his camera? They ain't got nothin' on me. And to be honest, I totally love it. I love looking at life through a lens, I love taking pictures of everything I can and I love taking pictures that other people end up loving. It's a joy that I completely expected and yet, a brand new feeling. If that isn't some version of love, then I couldn't tell you what is.

It is a fact, however, that I love the people in my life, too. Therefore following those people around constantly clicking away can get a little old for them. I understand, I've been there. As a result, I'm stuck mostly with inanimate objects and random pieces of life in front of my lens, which couldn't make me happier.

Just today, while walking the dog, I noticed all the yellow that popped up to signify Spring has started to change.

Slowly, the brightness is fading into the little puffs of seed- at least an afternoon's worth of entertainment.

I remember, as a kid, always wondering how a thick, yellow dandelion could turn into such a perfectly shaped round orb.

We called them ghost flowers.

Even the dog gets it.


I took nearly one hundred photos during this walk. I will likely be boring you with them over the weekend. They are mostly of blooming trees and flowers and puffy white clouds, though.

Because even if she's supposed to be my constant, animate subject, even Lola has had enough*.

*This is not just some lucky shot of my dog gazing into the trees, she is actually refusing to look at me.

Little Pink Houses

Last week tried to beat me up somethin' good. There were break ups, office dramatics, sick friends, bad news, worse news and a dog that was just ADR (that's an abbreviation for a technical term commonly used in the veterinary medicine world which means "ain't doin' right." No really, it is). And that was just within my little space of the planet.

Rather than bore myself and nearly a dozen others with my stories of woe, however, I'd rather take you on a walk through Spring.

Growing up, I was the kid that always drew pictures of my house. Some days, it looked Victorian, some days very modern and some days it was clear I was going to grow up and move into Barbie's Dream House. As time passed, I stopped drawing pictures and just started going around town and picking out my house. There was always this wonderful neighborhood with houses no one I knew could afford that I'd go back and visit time and again. It was obvious, though, that this 'hood and money and the money was old.


A couple days ago, while walking with a friend, we came upon these streets again. This time, though, it wasn't the beautiful homes that took my attention but rather, the way each of them was surrounded by Spring.

Picket fences are always that much better with tulips.

Lots and lots of tulips.

And daffodils.

(That's what these are, right?)

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And something else cute that probably has a fairy tale name that I don't know but it sure was fun to play with the image in Photoshop.

Though I drew houses as a kid, I never was one of those girls that got into the whole planning of my future wedding business. While I'll leave that whole story for another day, I will say that aren't these the most gorgeous flowers and wouldn't they be great at a wedding?

And more tulips, which I never tire of seeing.

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Lest you think this neighborhood is all full of beauty and perfection with pink houses and little Pollyanna families filling each and every one of them, I give you a warning sign:

Truth is, I'd put this in my yard in a second.

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The other day, I mentioned having some homemade rum which several of you asked about. I find it both exciting and a little frightening that I received more emails on this than almost anything else, ever. I'm sorry to report that though I enjoyed it, I really have no further detail. I know there's molasses, sugar, brown sugar and water involved. Then, fermentation. Then, running it through a still (which, as I found out today, is not sold at Home Depot. I think that is a rip because what would a still be considered if not home improvement?), maybe more than once. I'm not entirely sure.

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Then, I guess you just bottle it so that you may randomly place it on the desks of coworkers on a Wednesday morning. Which, by the way, would normally be just fine but to do it in a week when office stress is at an all-time high, giving someone liquor that they cannot open or consume at work (or probably have on the premises, come to think of it) is just mean. It did motivate me to call some friends over for "emergency rum tasting" though, and that's never a bad thing.

In Like a Lion

How do you know it's Spring in Colorado? It snows. And it's freezing on Easter. It was a wet, heavy snow. More like rain that just decided to be colder, and more spiteful. Like a scorned- dare I say- woman getting her one last gesture in revenge before she was finally chased out by the new love. It was cold and uncomfortable. The sort of cold that, when coming out of the movie theatre late Friday night and having to scrape windows, made me think seriously of moving to the desert. I even dreamed about it that night, hearing over and over in my mind "it's a dry heat."

Nonetheless, it is Springtime. There are certain signs everywhere and though it was cold and likely will be again later this week, I know I'm not the only one who's impatiently waiting for warmer days. And I'd be lying, a little, if I said I didn't at least like this weather to an extent.


Spring weather is very unique in Colorado. And though I hate, hate, hate to be cold, the erratic nature of this transition in seasons fits me. It changes it's mind, seemingly on a whim (though always carefully calculated behind the scenes) and when everyone thinks it's become boring and predictable, it throws something new into the mix. Though, I assure you, if I were weather, I'd never throw in snow. It'd be more like sunshine. And beach chairs. I digress.

I suppose this is why the desert will have to wait. I'm somewhat accustomed to this changing of seasons. It's timing and it's ability to surprise from one day to the next is comforting in a way. It's weather that reminds you to soak up the moments, it reminds you of how to live. It's weather that makes you draw every breath a little deeper, to let those mental pictures of smiles on faces and shadows on the ground sink in a little longer. It's the kind of weather that makes you sit on the porch in the late afternoon, hoping to absorb a little sun in anticipation of upcoming getaways. It's the kind of weather that makes you snuggle up one evening only to run through the grass barefoot and toss a ball around the next day.

Most of all, it has promise. Promise of newness, of warmth and of more. Promise of summer bar-b-ques, outdoor concerts and patio lunches. And really, in my mind, even if I have to endure some window scraping, there's still nothing better than knowing the best, what I love and look forward to most, is yet to be.

Garden of the Happy*

Last weekend the Front Range was finally graced with a couple days so sunny and beautiful, fifty degrees (F) began to make me actually believe that Summer might return this year. Instead of the Winter blues, I was doing some serious Summer dreamin'. And not just the oh-I-feel-the-sun-on-my-face-how-wonderful kind of dreaming but also the oh-I-should-start-bringing-out-the-summer-clothes-and-(insert jumping up and down here) the-flip-flops-too kind of dreaming.

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One of the reasons I love warmer weather is because it gets me out. It relaxes me and allows me to appreciate everything around me more. It's not that I don't marvel at the beautiful place I get to live every day, but when I'm allowed to just sit and bask in it for a while, it makes me wonder why I ever pine for other places. Well, sort of anyway.

I feel like it's a gift to not only have beauty around me but have the ability to appreciate it.

Sometimes, I look around me and think "how can I not be happy?"

While walking around on Sunday, recovering from a great eight miler on Saturday, looking at beautiful things, appreciating things larger and more stunning than I have words for, the thought came to me: I am one of the happiest people I know. Yes, I might be a huge dork for saying so on my blog, but the best part of being happy (as well as the best part of being a dork) is you don't care. That's how good it is.

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If that's not enough, it feels peaceful too. It feels like I can walk down the street and smile at people and not even have a reason why. And so I do, and I like it. It feels natural where as times in the past, it's been more difficult.


Who knows, it might just be a moment. A part of time when I get to take a look around, at the hills and rocks where I grew up and love it for everything I've always known it to be but also things I might never have seen before. It doesn't effect me the same way other places do; it has no high and low tide, it has no shore. I make an excellent beach bum, there is no doubt.

But it does have it's own rhythm and it's own way of comforting me when I need it.

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That seems okay at times, too. With everything else life brings, the 99.99% of things you don't write about on your blog, living in a place that actually feels good and feels like home is really the best comfort you could hope for.

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And if all else fails, I also have, quite possibly, the cutest dog on Earth. That also makes me pretty happy.

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*The photos (except that of the dog) were taken at Garden of the Gods, CO.