back in cool

my trip was great. a little scary and eerie at times. but great. I was supposed to go to Houston for a little while. Rita changed my plans a bit.

thanks everyone for your concern. really didn't mean to worry anyone. just wanted to get down the craziness and scariness of being nearly alone on a tiny Texas highway, with the only cars going the other way being long convoys of National Guard troops.

the craziness was somewhat forgotten while trying to stay cool in the sun in over 100 degree heat for three days. but now I'm home and safe and cool. I'll write more and read more as soon as I have time.

Rita please

...be kind.

driving away from Houston. National Guard convoy driving towards. there's long lines for gas, little water, even 100s of miles from the coast. crazy. scary.

tribute to the Big Easy

I am heading down south. away from the craziness that work has become. and although I was somewhat hoping I'd have a story to tell about a non-setup by a friend. he bailed.

so, as I don't intend to post much (if at all) while I'm gone, instead of new stories, I'll leave you with a few pictures of the city where my best friend grew up.

a tribute to the Big Easy. to the vibrancy and vitality that emanates from the city and its residents. a resilience I don't believe can be eroded, even by feet and feet of water.

(click on the thumbnails to view larger images.)

Bourbon Street & the French Quarter






The Garden District






Jackson Square & St. Louis Cathedral





Cemetaries





my humble version of a thank you for hospitality. the hospitality that New Orleans and her residents has extended to me many times... hopefully the rest of us can show a little Southern hospitality to those who call(ed) her home.

what is wicked?

what is good? what is not? we all grew up knowing the witches from West and East were wicked. and the other, the one that started with G, was good.

but what if they weren't always that way? and what if they weren't even that way when a little girl from Kansas blew through town?

we went to see Wicked* tonight. it made me question things. it made me happy to know that there really isn't the definitive line between good and not-so-good that we were taught as kids.

so what was that I was going on about last week about not being good? of course it's all just shades of good, anyway. and, well shades of wicked, I suppose. and it's interesting and a bit liberating to identify with both at the same time.

* it was excellent, and I very highly recommend it.

can't always be good

I was being good. I have to work, too many things to finish before my meeting tomorrow. I can't hang out tonight. we talked for a while. he was very persuasive. still I didn't waver. I told him to call if he got off work early this weekend. he said he couldn't promise anything, but would try.

we hung up. as I set the phone down I felt it. the tug. I really did want to see him. I'll be gone much of the next month. I may not get to see him for a while. then the text: plleeeeeeeeaaaassseee

I caved. after all he did say please... and work will still be here (ridiculously early) tomorrow.

inspiration reborn

I think I've said before that I'm a bit of a photo nut. I was reminded of how much I love photography tonight.

J and I went to see John Fielder do a slideshow presentation on his new book. another comparison of historic photos to what that same place looks like today.

it was inspiring. although Fielder's not originally from Colorado, he appreciates the beauty of my home state as much if not more than most Colorado natives.

and he's a really nice guy. I often visit his gallery store to stare at the magnificent prints on the walls. the prints I will not be able to afford anytime soon. various times when I've been in there he is there. he always takes time to talk with the gallery guests.

I've talked with him about his photography, my own, and about the possibility of going on one of his workshop trips.

I would love to go on one of his multi-day hiking trips, where he imparts his landscape photography wisdom on the participants. but I have a better chance of affording his prints in most cases than a workshop.

everytime I talk to him or visit his gallery I get this little tug. a tug to shoot more pictures. I have always loved taking pictures. and given I live in what I consider to be one of the most beautiful states, I have great subjects to work with, which require expending little effort.

I have taken countless cool pictures of Colorado, some are included in this post. more were included from a little hike near a mountain lake a few months ago.

but I've taken many pictures of equally beautiful but vastly different places. I've shared some from San Francisco.

tonight I was inspired to find the others, and work on some posts about them. I have cool shots of London, New Orleans, Washington D.C., San Diego, New Zealand, Mexico, Canada, Florida, Oregon, Texas, Hawaii, many Colorado spots, and I'm sure a few more locations that I'm forgetting about right now.

I've decided that I'm going to look through my boxes of photos, find the best of those, digitize any that need it, and do more photo posts. those are the ones I enjoy looking over again and again. perhaps you do, too.

I'm also headed on a few trips in the next few weeks, and I plan to take bunches of photos, perhaps some with this in mind.

so tonight I was inspired again to do what I love. take the opportunities I have been given to shoot some more pictures.

and in case you are curious, the photos in this post are, in order from top to bottom:

1) Aspens turning on Rollins Pass.

2) Beginnings of the sunset over Colorado Springs.

3) Sunset looking west from Denver.

4) (not sure of exact peak name) near Berthoud Pass.

5) Sunset over Breckenridge.

just another family dinner

the whole family was at dinner. I got lucky enough to sit next to my grandma. she and I talked quietly while chaos ensued around us.

we were celebrating three birthdays. my brother's, sister-in-law's and mine. my adorable nearly-two-year-old niece was dancing and laughing and entertaining us.

the chaos reminded me of something. one of my roommates spent Thanksgiving at our house one year. her husband ends up in Denver from time to time for training. she told him he should decline any invitations to holidays at my house. I thought that a little harsh.

but apparently not all families talk non-stop. apparently not all families take turns telling hilarious stories about their siblings, somewhat shocking the aunts and parents around the table. apparently there are quiet family dinners.

we've never had a quiet family dinner. with only the four kids and my parents it was always a bit loud and chaotic. add in a little extended family, and the chaos grows. the one-upping increases.

back to the birthday dinner. there were only ten of us. but ten is more than enough to create chaos. we made waitresses frazzled, caused the manager to check on us repeatedly, all the while, most of my family is oblivious.

my brothers and sister are all very much of the opinion that being a little too assertive gets them what they want. for my oldest brother and my little sister, it pretty much always has. somewhere along the way the second oldest brother decided that was the way to get what he wanted in life. be, well, a little more selfish and a little too assertive. so at dinner, they're all telling stories, louder and more important than the last.

somehow I missed that gene. the one that causes the desire to be louder and more demanding than my siblings. I can be assertive when it's really important, but I never felt I needed to be the center of attention.

that's why I sometimes feel that I might be my grandma's favorite. I listen to her. I talk to her. I don't talk at her, like my siblings sometimes do. that's why it was so nice to sit next to her quietly talking.

it was a good dinner. great to see my family. another birthday celebration. another slightly-less-selfish wish. another little self-realization. I'm glad I missed the standout gene. I like my quiet place in my family. although I love all of them very much, sometimes I'm glad we're not too similar.

shame on me

another amazing mountain wedding. drinking, dancing, and talking with good friends. drinking, dancing and flirting with a cute boy.

while we were dancing we talked. he told me I was a great friend. he told me I was beautiful and amazing. he told me he loved me. he was drunk. I was certain he meant that last one in the friendly sense.

back at the hotel, in the room I was sharing with him and another guy friend, we're trying to figure out which room the after-party is in. the bride and groom were the ones in the know.

I was about to hang up the phone after a botched attempt to call their room. (got the groom's sleeping dad instead, since the newlyweds hadn't checked in yet.) my dancing friend pulled me onto one of the beds with him.

I sat back up. ignored his arm around my waist. talked with our other friend as he called the newlywed's cell to get the scoop. they were going to after-party in our room.

we waited for them to come down. one friend fading on one of the beds. my dancing friend on the other. arm still around my waist. still pulling me toward him. I gave in a little this time. rested my head on his stomach. he ran his fingers slowly through my hair.

ring ring

I sat up. it was the groom. they were hungry. did we have anything. no, then they'd be down after they found something.

one still fading on one bed. the other, his arm still around my waist. pulling me closer. kissing my neck.

ring ring

I sat up again. it was the bride. they were tired. afterall it was midnight. would we mind if they bailed. of course not. it's their wedding night.

the other fell deep asleep. we were left to our own devices. he pulled me back to him. closer. this time he kissed me. it was more amazing than I remembered... and the memory was rather amazing.

he wanted more. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

in my mind there were many reasons. his previous reaction, a sense it wasn't right. I told him I couldn't with our friend in the room. he said he understood.

then more kissing. still amazing. eventually the alcohol got the best of him and he passed out.

I got up to brush my teeth and noticed it was nearly 2. when I climbed back into bed, he was just awake enough to pull me into him. to fall asleep in his arms. enveloped by him. it felt wonderfully comfortable. like home.

eventually we all woke up. the guys were talking about the night before. the drunk one couldn't remember how we got to the hotel. did he drive? the other and I laughed. we would have walked if he'd insisted on driving.

he said he didn't remember anything after dancing. I guess the amazing kisses will once again* be only my memory.

fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.


* the last time he said he didn't remember how we got to my house. or where his car was. implying he didn't remember the rest. yes, my drunken dancing friend and OhThoseEyes are one and the same. so, what is it with people claiming to be so drunk they don't remember things? no one takes responsibility for their actions anymore...

silent Sunday

it was an eerie Sunday. I was sitting with TheDog at the coffee shop. the world seemed slow, if not on pause. even TheDog seemed melancholy.

was it everyone's way of remembering the tragedy that occurred four years ago? was it the sadness and sense of loss perpetuated by Hurricane Katrina? (or was it just that there was finally regular season football on tv?)

I sat reading part of the paper, part of a book. reflecting over the craziness in the world. the hate and blame and finger-pointing that never seems to end.

I'm a natural mediator, a middle-child. I don't like conflict. I like for everyone to get along. I've always tried to do my part to facilitate hand-shaking instead of finger-pointing. compassion instead of hate. understanding or at the very least willingness to accept another point of view instead of closed-mindedness.

how will the countries and religions of the world ever learn to live in peace and listen to other points of view without hate and contempt, if individuals cannot do the same with their neighbors who live next door?

instead of blaming everyone else for what wasn't done, will people ever learn to appreciate what has been done and find out what they can do to help?

at least some are reaching out to thank those who have helped recently.

Dear America

A little something I came across that captures the resiliency and spirit I've seen in my friend who grew up in NO and experienced in my visits there!

Perhaps we can all do a little something for someone who may need a little bit of help this weekend and beyond?!

---

Chris Rose: Louisiana ambassadors say hello

Dear America,

I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.

We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.

And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.

First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.

We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.

Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.

We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.

You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.

We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.

But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.

Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.

Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?

We can't really explain that. It is what it is.

You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.

The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.

We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.

When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.

But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.

OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.

But what the hell.

And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.

So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.

That is our promise. That is our faith.


Chris Rose [a columnist for the Times-Picayune in New Orleans] can be reached at noroses@bellsouth.net.

hopes and expectations

I got a chance to catch up with one of my good friends from high school this weekend. we'd lost touch for a while, then ran into each other at the grocery store a while back. we live less than a mile apart.

this past weekend we decided to go for a hike on the extra day off. and although our hike got rained out. we wouldn't let it ruin our day, and decided to grab coffee then dinner instead.

we talked and talked. so many years to catch up on. so many big and little stories to share. even some stories from strangers.

we got to talking about where our lives were. if we were where we thought we would be at this point.

she said she (and her parents) always assumed she'd work for a few years after college, then get married and have kids.

I used to think I wanted to get married to a guy that would stay home with the kids so I could have a career. my parents always told me I couldn't get married until I was 32. I needed to make my own way first.

both of us finished college, went to grad school and have done fairly well in our careers. we've both had good and bad relationships along the way.

she asked me if I was happy with where I was in life. I answered with a definitive yes. I aked her the same. she answered that in some ways she was, but she wishes she were married. she wants that, expects it. and the kids, too.

she asked me if I expected more. I answered that I didn't so much expect more as hope for it. I do hope to find someone to share the rest of my life with, and maybe to have kids with. but if not, I'd be content with my life the way it is.

somewhere between those questions and our lists of who we were looking for, I realized that our general outlook on life was vastly different. and the biggest difference was that between our hopes and expectations.

she's not happy with where life has taken her, or where she has taken her life. her expectations haven't been met.

I am happy with where my life is. sure I hope my life becomes more and different, but I don't expect anything.

maybe that's why I'm happy with my life, and she doesn't seem to be. when you expect something and it doesn't happen, you feel slighted. when you simply hope for something and it doesn't happen. you continue to hope for it, maybe even work a little harder to turn your hopes into reality.

I hope my friend learns to be happy with where she is, yet not lose hope for something more.

----------

later, I got to thinking about what would happen if I lost everything I have worked so hard for, my house and my career, like those in the New Orleans and other places hit by the hurricane.

sure I would be sad, but as long as my friends and family were alright that would be all that would matter. I think that's what happiness is. loving and feeling loved. and I do, even if right now it's not by one special guy.

(im)possible wishes

over delectable seared ahi tuna and scrumptious steak, the topic turned to Hurricane Katrina, what else.

one of my friends and bosses stated his opinion that perhaps individuals living in a bowl, mostly below sea level were asking for it. I was astounded. he admitted perhaps it was a heartless view.

he wondered how anyone would choose to live there. he's never walked among the beautiful homes of the Garden District. he's never had a beignet at Cafe du Monde. he's never wandered under the balconies of Bourbon Street, with people all around reaching up for beads.

he's never felt the vitality of the city. the sense of home those who have lived there most of their lives feel for the Big Easy. the hospitality often offered to visitors.

his best friend didn't grow up there. didn't get married there. perhaps if he had, if his best friend had, he would feel more compassion.

after another friend said her company was matching all donations, and after a few too many celebratory drinks I asked if my company was even donating.

open mouth. insert foot.

his wife looked shocked. he laughed. he has a way of dispelling my sometimes inappropriate work-related comments. he was my friend first, before he became my boss. and he treats me as a friend first. luckily.

we talked about why the levees broke. they were built for a Category 3 storm, not the 4 that Katrina was when it hit New Orleans.

another engineer friend explained why engineers don't design for the worst case scenario. why they look at probability of occurrences. otherwise it would be too expensive too build anything. if the worst case always had to be considered.

J inquired about my friend who grew up in NO. I passed along the stories she had told me. her family and friends were fine. just lost as to what to do next.

I had a great conversation with my most politically opposite friend. she went to school in NO and has friends that still live there. we talked about FEMA and the government's response.

she agreed with me that we should all focus on helping those that need it, not on pointing fingers. there will be time for assigning blame for things that didn't go right when the water has been pumped out. when everyone is safe. when pets and people have been reunited with those that love them.

when it came time to blow out the candle. my typical, somewhat selfish wish was forgotten. this year it was a much more wide-reaching wish.

perhaps it has already come true a little. my company donated a decent amount to help the victims of the Hurricane.

I hope everyone puts aside their differences long enough to help one another. tries to understand before passing judgment. I know it was a lofty wish, but perhaps if everyone were to try just a little to be compassionate before angry, it could become reality.


if you are able to, please help. there are links at the top of the page that are a few of the agencies that can help. every little bit helps.

Joseph

I have many stories to tell from the last week or so. but as I am not always one to follow chronological order, I'll start with the end, and Joseph.


on our way to the restaurant, we passed him. he was sitting on a bench, obviously one of Boulder's many homeless. he commented on how beautiful TheDog is and gave her a few pats as we passed. we said thanks, and wished him a happy day.

as we sat on the patio trading silly stories, he walked past. stopped. and returned to pet TheDog. again exclaiming what a beautiful dog she is.

his name was Joseph, and he started to tell us that he missed his dogs. he had five. most were still with his ex-wife and ex-car.

he began to tell us a story of his 230 pound, St. Bernard and Great Dane mix named Namath. (yes, after Joe.)

one night, Joseph stopped at a bar for a quick drink. when he left, some surly individuals followed him out to his truck. but before he could reach it they began to stir things up a bit. he couldn't get to his gun in his glove box.

he called to Namath. Namath simply stood up in the back of the truck, and the surly individuals took one look at the gigantic dog, and retreated. that night Joseph bought Namath a steak, in appreciation of the dog saving his life.

Joseph also told us of the difficulty with which he had his loyal companion, Namath, put down at the age of 13. how hard it had been for him. and how he asked to have him cremated and kept his ashes, still.

he is now homeless. he lives in a tent in the park at the base of the Flatirons. he has a fox for a friend. her name is Foxy Lady. he had a moose for a friend. his name was Bullwinkle.

Bullwinkle stopped coming around. Joseph asked the park ranger if they had seen him. they told Joseph he had been shot by a poacher. Joseph asked if the caught the man that did it. they hadn't. they only had a truck type and color.

Joseph took it upon himself to hunt the truck down. he confronted the guy. asked him if he enjoyed being a poacher. the man stood, a much larger man than Joseph, and asked Joseph what he was going to do about it.

as Joseph began to shrink away, the park rangers walked up behind him. the poacher was sentenced to five years in jail.

Joseph, apparently out of stories for the moment, asked if we had licenses to be so beautiful. we laughed.

he apologized for continuing to talk even after our dinners came. we told him to not worry, asked if he needed anything. he insisted he didn't need anything. he had everything he needed.

and then with tears in his eyes, Joseph told us that although he was tough, (after all, he served his country in two tours of duty), he missed his dogs. terribly.

then with a few more pets for my beautiful blonde dog, he wished us a long and happy life. and walked up the hill.


I know the profound affect my dog has had on me. but it was so incredibly touching to see this older, homeless man shed a few tears for his departed friends. he neither wanted nor needed anything from us. except maybe someone to listen to his stories.

sometimes in the face of all the chaos that life has become, particularly recently, just listening to another tell their story is perhaps the most generous gift we can give another.

Joseph, I wish you a long and happy life, and I hope more Namaths and Bullwinkles and thirty-something women have the great privilege of hearing your stories and knowing you, if even for a brief moment.

older looks good on you...

Thanks for all of the birthday wishes! I had a fantastic birthday and a great weekend.

I have stories of dinners and drinking. nieces and pups. family and friends. possible goodbyes and wishful returns. hikes and laziness. a man named Joseph. hopes versus expectations. a little rivalry. and more news from my friend from New Orleans.

I will get to them as soon as I can...


(and no, Jeremy, I didn't injure myself *knock on wood*...
and yes, Katie, I went to the Black Crowes and Tom Petty concert at Red Rocks)

how many candles?

there's something special about the angle of the sun at this time of year. the sunlight has a special glow. I love it.

is it just me? is it only because it's when I first was?

so far my birthday has been great. last night kicked it off with another outstanding show on the rocks.

today, phone calls, e-mails and cards from friends, letting me know they're thinking about me. flowers arrived at my office just as I did. beautiful. blue, pink, and purple.

I had lunch with my friends from work in the sun on a beautiful Colorado day. then cake at the office. I picked angelfood with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. perfect.

I'm grabbing a drink with a friend right after work. having dinner with the girls. then more drinks with everyone that can make it. the celebration continues through the long weekend.

you know, this turning older thing isn't so bad.

old(er)

we've been trying to see each other. either I'm busy or he* is. we never seem to be free at the same time.

finally got to see him last weekend. I actually think I've missed him. I'm not supposed to miss him. that's not what this was supposed to be about. he said he wanted to see me more. maybe he's missed me too. it's a little strange.

he was teasing me about the age thing. he remembered I get old(er) this week. no guy I've ever dated has remembered that without significant help. he said he wants to do something to celebrate. I said that would be great, but no plans were made.

he hasn't called. I have plans to go out with friends. I suppose I could invite him along...

* 24

submerged

I just got off the phone with my friend. her family is alright, her friends are alright. I know not everyone was as lucky.

her parents got out of town early. a friend is stuck in a hospital with her boyfriend and dog.

her grandparents lost their home. her parents don't know how badly flooded theirs is. the water level is going to rise even more. more people will lose everything.

the beautiful and eclectic Big Easy will never be the same. the pictures hint at the devestation. water up to rooftops. destruction in every neighborhood.

lives are lost. both those that have passed, and those that will never be the same. lives measured in pictures and by outstanding architecture. none of it spared.

the residents there and in Mississippi have no homes. no food. no water. they have nowhere to go. my cousin is down there trying to help. they have no place to move these people that have lost everything.

they really could use our help!

rising waters

as I write this, the massive hurricane, Katrina, is battering a beautiful city that is very dear to my heart.

I've been to New Orleans several times, for Mardi Gras, to visit my friends who grew up in Louisiana and for a few weddings there. it is a truly unique city. the buildings have stunning architecture. the area is rich in history. I've taken walking tours of the French Quarter, the Garden District and the cemeteries. I've been to many locals hang-outs as well. it is one of my favorite cities.

on the cemetery tour my friend J and I took a few years ago, we stopped by the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square. the tour guide was talking about the hurricanes and tropical storms that have hit the area. describing that part of the reason they bury people in tombs in NO is because the city is below sea level. and during these storms, the water table would rise enough to cause caskets to float. creepy. and intriguing.

being an engineer I found this incredibly interesting. the city now has huge pumps to keep the water table low enough to alleviate these problems. the city is protected from the waters of the Mississippi River by large levees. the guide then specifically mentioned tropical storm Frances. the last major storm that hit the area. a nervous laugh escaped me. he asked why I thought it was funny. I explained that it wasn't funny, but that I was in this very cathedral when Frances was abusing the city.

in 1998 when Frances paid a visit to New Orleans, I was there. luckily that hurricane was downgraded to a tropical storm before it hit the beautiful city. many of my close friends were in NO for the wedding of my best friend and roommate in college. many of us got into town on Thursday for bachelor and bachelorette activities. those that waited to drive in on I-10 on Saturday didn't make it to the wedding. the highway was closed by then.

we had an amazing bachelorette party, with dinner, other typical events, and meeting the guys on the bachelor party out on Bourbon Street that Thursday, despite the somewhat rainy weather. and the rehearsal dinner was extremely fun on Friday, even if we did get a little wet from the light rain. no one in NO seemed to be worried in the least about the storm. so we weren't either.

on Saturday, our other roommate and I got up very early, showered and headed to the salon to get our hair done. the rain continued. the stylist insisted on using a can and a half of hairspray on my hair, despite my pleas not to. apparently she was the only one truly worried about the storm and was trying to make my hair hurricane-proof.

after getting our hair done, we stopped for a quick sandwich on the way to the bride's parents' house to finish our wedding preparations. the person behind the deli counter said something wholly inappropriate about the deluge of rain on a wedding day. we ignored her, grabbed our sandwiches and continued on. luckily the bride wasn't with us.

at the house, we all got dressed and the photographer was there to take some photos. however, there were a few snafus. the flowers were late in getting to the house. but they finally arrived. the organ player and other musicians couldn't get to the church. someone found a portable cd player and some cds. we were waiting for the vans to take us to the cathedral. they were late.

we couldn't get in touch with the boys to let them know we were indeed coming. the phones were down. the photographer had a cell. but there was no one to call. one van arrived. between that, the bride's brother's and the photographer's SUVs there was enough room to get us to the cathedral.

despite the fact that some roads were closed and people were being urged to not drive, we began the slow drive to the Quarter. back roads were taken to avoid closures. alternate routes were taken when roads were too flooded. when we finally arrived, the bride was carried into the church to keep her dry. all of us bridesmaids had our skirts hiked up past our thighs and were carrying our shoes to avoid getting soaked in the water that was higher than our knees.

finally, when we were inside, the bride shed a few tears. she hadn't let any of the little things affect her. but she was so happy to finally be there. and despite having been very worried, and completely left in the dark as to why we were late, the guys were just happy we had finally made it.

to quickly fit the ceremony in between masses, we started the ceremony the second the mass ended that was supposed to be after the wedding. we were only two hours behind schedule. we began to walk down the aisle. all you could hear was the occasional click of a heel on the floor. as the beautiful bride was about a third of the way down the aisle, beautiful music began. someone had finally found a place to plug in the cd player.

the ceremony was amazing. I began to cry when I saw the groom crying.

once we got to the reception site, they hurried the bridal party into the coat room. the rest of the wedding guests were outside in the rain. they were still setting up. none of the servers could get in.and they were having a tough time getting everything together. in early celebration, the bridesmaids and groomsmen were taking turns sneaking shots out of the groomsmen's presents. little silver flasks.

finally everyone was let into the reception room. it was beautiful. and although most of us looked a bit more like drowned rats than wedding guests, everyone made the most of it. we danced until the dj closed up shop. after the reception was over, most of us even headed back to the Quarter for more late night celebrating. it continued to rain.

the next morning, on our way to breakfast, my other roommate and I convinced the groom's dad to give us the hotel number where the newlyweds were honeymooning. we had to assure him it was for good, not mischief, that we wanted it. I called. in my rusty Spanish and the concierge at the other end of the line's very broken English, I managed to have them send roses and champagne to their room, to be waiting for the them when they arrived. I hoped.

then we sat down to breakfast, outside in the Quarter on a beautiful sunny Sunday. things were still drying a bit. but the city was up for the challenge of getting things back to normal after Frances.

stories were being told of all of the little things that people had to do to get to the wedding. apparently the hotel we were all in got flooded. there was no water pressure. those staying on the bottom two floors had to be moved up. they let those on the floors with no water pressure use rooms on the third to shower. we missed this all since we left so early.

some braved the high waters to drive in, despite the warnings not to. people were carefully walking many blocks in feet of water to get to the wedding, careful to avoid the manholes that no longer had covers because they were pushed off. true friends doing anything they can to make sure they see their friends' get hitched.

and we talked of the amazing couple and how gracefully they handled everything. no other couple I know could have been so cool under such circumstances. it is truly a wedding and storm none of us will ever forget.

this brings me back to Katrina. this is many times worse than the scary rain and mildly strong winds we experienced during Frances. there was a mandatory evacuation. thousands were sheltered at the Superdome. levees were breeched. pumps have failed. areas are under up to six feet of water. water is coming up through the storm water drains. people are stranded on rooftops. areas south of Lake Ponchartrain are flooded. my friend's parents live South of this giant lake. they're saying it will likely be the most expensive storm in the country's history. they won't have water or electricity for weeks maybe months.

my friend's parents, other relatives and friends that live there are all in my thoughts and prayers. as are all of the residents of the areas being affected.

I have seen the resilience of New Orleans firsthand. although a more difficult feat this time around, it will endure after Katrina.

as is obvious, the residents of New Orleans and the other areas including Mississippi being hit by the storm can use all of our help. if you can, please donate to the American Red Cross so those in need can be helped.

Jack on the Rocks

have I ever told you that I love my friends. I really do.

a few of them headed up to Red Rocks early to get everyone good seats. (for those not lucky enough to have seen a show at the most amazing venue in the world, the typical seating is GA in front, reserved in the middle, and GA again near the back. so you have to get there early if you want decent GA seats, particularly if you're trying to sit with a dozen people.)

it was mostly work friends including A & M, their SOs and my friend J. (yes, I work with some very cool people.) we didn't want the seat holders to have to fend off people for too long, so we decided to forgo the typical pre-show parking lot drinking, in favor of over-priced beers and great company inside.

one of my good friends is also one of my bosses and owns part of the company. (when did we get old enough for that?) he bought us all a round of beer on the company credit card. (did I mention I work with cool people?)

the weather was perfect. a cool end of summer evening. not too hot or too cold. the opening acts were good. Matt Costa and ALO. but as it got darker, the anticipation of Jack Johnson's arrival onstage intensified.

some in our group had never seen him play before. I've seen him maybe a half dozen times in Winter Park and Red Rocks and Austin. this show was by far the best Jack show I've seen. and one of the best shows I've seen at Red Rocks.

he was amazing. (and amazing to look at.) he said Red Rocks was the best venue in the world. (of course it is.) how can anyone not love to play there, staring back at the crowd of 10,000 smiling, dancing faces sandwiched between two enormous red rocks that are the sides of the natural amphitheater.

I'm not a setlist kind of concert-goer. but I vividly remember lyrics that speak to me, although often out of order. particularly when he's singing the songs just for me. (yes, insane school-girl crush. a cute guy wearing a t-shirt jeans and flip-flops always makes my heart skip a beat.)

her beauty will follow wherever she goes

being in love with somebody don't make them love you

seems to me that maybe, pretty much always means no

please don't pretend to know what's on my mind

just another night on the town

where have all the good people gone? (we're right here, Jack.)

things can go bad, and make you want to run away

waking up to early, maybe we can sleep in, making banana pancakes, pretend like it's the weekend

if the weather is better, we should get together, spend a little time and we can do whatever

when I wake up, you look so pretty sleeping next to me

I was afraid that if you rode away you might not roll back my direction real soon

oh please just let me please breakdown

she'll pretend she's somewhere else, so far and clear, about 2,000 miles from here

slow down, everyone. you're moving too fast

you can't believe everything you hear

after the band walked off stage, Jack came back with his guitar, cheered on by the lively crowd. he played the entire encore that way.

although it rained a few drops, the stars came out mid-way through the show to join the twinkling of the city lights. I could have stayed there for days, listening to Jack, dancing with my friends, enjoying the incredible music and beauty around me.

but it was home and to bed and a painfully early alarm for work, instead.

Jack on the Rocks (the preview)

what an unbelievably incredible night!
words cannot do it justice. but I'll make an attempt.

disjointed

another evening spent among the flowers and the music. a picnic for three, shared only by two. one friend stuck at work. broke free only in time for the encore.

plans were made for next week. for a low-key celebration.

two down, two to go. one just for me, one just for my mom. the other two? to enjoy spending time with friends.

work is piling up. laundry and packing loom. in preparation for a friend's wedding this weekend.

relax, things have a way of falling into place. enjoy the moments. despite all the chaos. despite the disjointed thoughts. despite feeling guilty for dancing when there's work to be done.

Jonny in the grass

another night in the colorful gardens. many of my friends said they were going. none did. so, tonight was just for me.

I was running late. stuck at work. I sold my extra ticket with only a few minutes to spare. but enough time to grab some coffee and a spot to listen. the coffee was for later.

I've seen him before, but not there. he was incredible, as he always is. the music dancing from his guitar, floating up to the clouds tinged pink by the sunset. it was another perfect summer evening.

songs affect me. the lyrics find their way into my soul.

will I wander this world all alone? most days I hope not. but if that's what is meant to be, I will still be happy.

I will never let anyone lie to me again. I've had enough of believing in the wrong people.

singing a song while sitting at a red light. reminding me of how a moment can change everything.

the loneliness appeared to be breakin' me earlier today. no more. I had a fabulous date tonight. with myself. and I enjoyed every minute of it.

now it's time for the caffeine to kick in so I can get past procrastination mode and get some work done. at least it will be easier with Jonny Lang songs swirling around in my head.

too much, too little

between bachelorette weekends, wedding weekends, concert tickets bought long ago, and friend, family and work obligations, I've begun to feel like I have no time.

no time to grab a leisurely cup of coffee with a friend. no time to take TheDog for a long walk. no time to just sit and relax.

maybe in a couple weeks work and everything will calm down a little... then again, I'll probably complain that I'm bored when it does.

art inspires

it was the last day. the exhibit was ending. I had really wanted to see it. my mom wanted to go with me. but then she broke her knee. I headed down anyway. assuming I'd go alone.

I called on my way. she wanted to go, despite her crutches. she'd seen the exhibit before, but my impatient dad and brother didn't want to watch the video. so she wanted to join me. I was to leave her to watch the video and look around.

she's a member of the Fine Arts Center. so we bypassed the long line to get in. a very nice gentleman at the security desk found a wheelchair for her, so she could go around the exhibit with me. it was a comedy of errors I'm sure to watch the one-handed wonder try and wheel her mom around the exhibit amongst thousands of other procrastinators.

I'd seen Chihuly's ceiling in the lobby of the Bellagio in Las Vegas. it's called Fiore di Como, it has over two thousand separate hand blown glass pieces.

each time I've been to Vegas, I've taken a little time out of my gambling or drinking or kissing random guys to stand under this amazing piece of art to look up at this colorful ceiling. the picture, I'm afraid, does not do it justice.

so when my mom told me there would be an exhibit, I knew I wanted to go. but with my crazy summer, time had slipped away until the last day. and although I put it off, I refused to let it be one of those things I would regret not seeing.

the exhibit was incredible. I truly cannot describe the amazing works that were displayed throughout the Fine Arts Center. growing up I'd taken all kinds of classes there. pottery, drawing, painting, acting. I don't think I'd been in the building since high school. it was like coming home in a way.

the exhibit began with hand blown bowls. based on native indian baskets. there were bowls within bowls within bowls. creating random nests of translucent color. there were the outdoor installations that looked like sea plants or creatures. and the intricately amazing chandeliers and towers.

unfortunately we were only allowed to take pictures outside. but the exhibit website, has some amazing shots of this and other exhibits. admiring his amazing art, after watching the video on the many places he'd traveled to create it, I may have caught a bug. I may have to try my hand at blowing glass next. well, when I have two good hands again.

turn on, turn off

I’ve been tagged by Shannon for the “10 turn ons/10 turn offs” list.
Here they are... (drumroll please)

turn ons:
smiling eyes
hanging out in a tent while it's raining
an arm around my shoulder or waist in public
unexpected light kisses on the back of my neck
dancing
making me laugh
trusting enough to divulge secrets
spontaneous adventures
talking under a starlit sky
a quick wink in a crowded room

turn offs:
rudeness and abrasiveness
smoking
talking with a mouth full
self-importance
name dropping
too much over-eagerness to please
not respecting me or my family and friends
delusions of grandeur
insincerity
flakiness

and although I'm supposed to tag more people, I'm not sure who has already done this one or who would like to... so if you want to be tagged, consider yourself tagged! (I'll even link and properly tag you if you would like...)

what are your intentions?

well meaning friends. assuring me that he's interested in me. that he's not interested in me.

he's not. he is.

I'm certain he's sending signals he's interested. that he's not interested.

he's not. he is.

if I can't rely on my friends' intuition or my own, then what can I rely on?

in my experience guys don't take out billboards when there's a little interest. well most don't. the ones that do are usually the scary ones.

how can I figure it out without feeling foolish like I have in the past? ask them what are your intentions? that's screwed up at least one of my good friendships in the past. wait until they make it blatantly obvious? but do they ever do that?

you're thinking it can't be that bad. no one can be that clueless. well, I can. and to demonstrate this, a few examples of just how terrible a judge of guys' intentions I can be.

I was at the Killers show at Red Rocks last Friday. (killer show, by the way.) on the way in, J and I ran into a guy friend of mine. we were very good friends. but I suspected he was interested, right down to the night he met his now wife. I had thought there was potential for more. apparently, I was wrong.

seeing him, there, reminded me of another guy friend from that same group. I was convinced we were just good friends, until one night after a show at Red Rocks he offered for me to crash at his house. in his bed.

then, later last Friday night, I apparently made a little drunken promise. I was slightly nervous about A talking with TheBaker the next day. so I drank. too much. with the liquid courage I became confident in what I thought were at least somewhat positive signals from him the weekend before. (yes, despite his kissing another girl while they were hammered.)

since she's been bugging me for a while about it. and continues to do so every time I see her. I confidently promised J that if he wasn't interested in me at all I'd do it.

again, I was wrong. I'd somewhat forgotten about the promise. but J reminded me, and now she's holding me to it. so what? so now I'm supposed to figure out a guy's level of interest from a few e-mails?

what is luck?

what is good luck? what is bad luck?

getting a flat tire? bad luck. not having the tire blow out completely Sunday speeding down the highway? good luck.

the situation with TheBaker? bad luck. knowing now that I should move on? good luck.

slamming my entire hand in a truck door? bad luck. the ER nurses and doc hurrying to get me out and back to the wedding on time? good luck.

whatever you call it. silver lining. glass half full. lucky. optimistic. it's really all about attitude.

today was not a good day. not only did the tire fiasco wreak havoc on my work day, but at lunch, A confirmed my suspicions. add that to the fact that I've been dying to go on a bike ride. but I can't with the hand. can't swim yet, can't do half of my yoga poses. just can't. it's frustrating me.

so after being at work late, I finally manage to get my front door open with one hand without dropping my laptop (I have a terrible lock that I really need to get re-keyed).

TheDog greats me. wagging uncontrollably. happy to see me. always.

I leave the front door open as I water the flowers. she sits in the doorway. patiently, but expectantly.

I've been neglected her. but one look at that angelic face and I know exactly what will make whatever luck I've been having immaterial.

a walk in the park with TheDog on a beautiful August day.

I leave my iPod at home. I want the soundtrack to this one to be the birds and people and even traffic sounds.

three things clear my mind like nothing else. walking in the park or hiking in the mountains with TheDog listening to the sounds of the city or the mountains. skiing solo, stopping amidst the trees to breathe in the mountains and listen to the snow.

our walk was relaxing and peaceful. the evening sunlight shimmering on the tree leaves. the cyclists and joggers and people playing fetch with their dogs. these images replace the earlier mental clutter.

what tire? what boy? what bad luck? those things don't matter in the grand scheme of things. they're just the little things. that which inconsequential stories are made of.

I'd rather enjoy little things than worry about them. our walk serves as a little reminder to me to enjoy and appreciate all the good luck and great things that wander into my life.

what did I do to someone in a past life?

currently waiting for AAA to come change my tire for me. no, I am not one of those women that can't even change her own tire. my dad insisted I learn before ever driving a car out of my parents' driveway.

so this morning when I went out, one of my tires was completely flat. I was starting to change it, hit my very bruised and painful hand, gave up, and called AAA. I drove 70+ miles home last night. good thing it didn't lose too much air then.

I guess that's lucky. but I feel like a helpless little girl. and I want to know what in the world I did to deserve the terrible luck I've been having?

broken promises

first, if you haven't read Saturday's post, you should before you read this one.

no, really, now...

or this won't make any sense...


so, back to last Saturday night. when C and I are outside the cabin, he tells me that K and TheBaker were kissing in the bar. he thought I should know. being painkillered and drunk. I start to cry. it's not voluntary, it just is.

I have to go back inside. I walk in. K and TheBaker are still sitting close on the couch, but I can't look at them. I can't let them see me cry. M is half passed out. Atlanta takes one look at my tears and says that he needs to talk to me outside.

he'd picked up on my interest in TheBaker on Friday. he'd tried to help with my courage in that respect. and he understood how sad I must feel for the occurances at the bar. what he didn't know was how K had literally promised me that she wouldn't hook up with TheBaker.

flashback to Vegas:

we had such a great time in Vegas. getting to know A's friends was cool. it's always so much fun to meet your friend's college friends. K was in Vegas, and was quite the flirt, which was fun for Vegas.

she had asked A about the possibilities of single guys at the wedding. A said K knew most of the guys from college, but TheBaker and a few other Colorado friends would be there. A and M had told the other girls and K about my crazy crush on TheBaker. so, K promised not to flirt or hook up with him.

flash-forward to the day before A's wedding:

K meets TheBaker, and pulls me outside to confirm indeed that was the crush. yes, I confirm it is him. so, it's not a case of forgetting.

and back to Saturday late night:

sure I was sad that it had happened. but I was really mad that I'd considered A's friend to be my own, and trusted her. I felt so betrayed. Atlanta and I talked more, he calmed me down. he helped me find the courage to go back inside.

I try to be courageous. K gets up and goes to pray to the porcelain god. TheBaker is talking to me. I try to answer nonchalantly. I feel like someone crushed my heart.

I eventually stumble to bed. when I wake up my hand is killing me, and I feel like I'm going to die, or at least want to. apparently there is a reason they tell you not to drink with pain killers. but instead of death, slow torture is all I find.

as everyone slowly wakes up, we can hear the girls talking through the paper thin walls. one of the girls (not K) says she feels bad for me, since the drunk baker climbed into bed with her. another says at least she didn't kiss him. to which K says something about if she weren't still drunk, maybe she'd feel bad about it.

at the brunch, I try to act as if I'm ok with it all. but I can't bring myself to go anywhere near TheBaker. and although K's trying to make small talk with me, I have a hard time being even remotely friendly. she doesn't even mention it, much less apologize.

everyone begins to leave. one of the other girls is riding back to Denver with me. she's been friends with them all since college. she's apalled at K's behavior. and can't believe she didn't at least say she was sorry to me before she left.

K did e-mail me when she got back to work on Tuesday. it made me feel a little better about the whole thing. she said she felt horrible about it. I told her already forgiven. what really would come of holding a grudge? I know not to trust her in the future, but I probably will never see her again, anyway.

what hurts the most is it had been so long since I'd even met a guy I liked that much. a guy who could make me laugh, liked good music, was funny. one I thought might be interested in me, at least for a little while. I just felt so stupid.

when A got back to work Wednesday, she heard the story. she was furious with K. she was surprised I'd forgiven her. I told her I'm not good at holding a grudge. she doesn't like what K would do after promising she wouldn't. she was also worried that K would hurt TheBaker with her flirty ways.

and since she was worried about TheBaker, A was going to talk to him yesterday about it. in doing so, she thought she would have to bring me up. meaning things would be in the open. for better or worse.

A hasn't called me. I'm guessing that no news is bad news. I really thought she'd call to tell me how it went. is my ability to judge character that out of whack? should I stop trusting friends and guys so easily?

maybe it's time to move on. move on past TheBaker and certain friends. maybe next time I won't be as shy. I won't give another girl time to move in when I really like a guy. maybe I won't believe friends will treat me as I would treat them.

maybe, but knowing me, probably not. I just wish I didn't feel so completely foolish about the whole thing.

and the saga continues...

when we get back to the cabins, we all hang out and drink some more (why?).

as we all get tired the boys leave, then C comes back. he and TheBaker flipped a coin as to who got to crash on our futon couch as opposed to the floor of the boys' cabin. oh, well.

early (time is relative when you're drinking past 3 in the morning) Saturday morning, M and I were up helping out with the last minute details. running last minute errands, making sure the bridesmaids got to the house for the ceremony.

we get back to the house with lunch for the bridal party and A sends us on a couple more quick errands before we need to get ready. M and I hurry back to the cabins to grab a few things. I grab our list, jump out of the truck and slam the door.

on my hand.

I make it over to the chair on the porch of the cabin. holding my hand up. hoping the excrutiating pain stops. soon.

C walks over, prepared to make fun of my clumsiness. then he sees the hand, and stops. M grabs some ice. it's not pretty. it's already ridiculously swollen.

TheBaker walks up. he and Atlanta decide I have to go to the ER. C says he still has to shower and everything, but if no one else can take me, he can. TheBaker pipes up and offers. he's done with all of his cake duties and all he needs to do before the ceremony is change.

he asks if anyone knows where the closest ER is. I manage to offer up that I do, through the tears. C and M laugh. of course I do. actually this ER I've only been to for other people. but they're right, I do know where way too many ERs are.

I'm not sure I need to go. I'm more worried about A and getting all the little things done for her than my hand. M assures me she can get it all taken care of. I make them all promise not to tell A, I don't want to ruin her big day.

TheBaker and I drive away. he kept talking with me, bringing up funny subjects. I think he was trying to make me forget about my hand. hoping I'd stop tearing sometime soon. with every little story, and every great song on his mp3 cd, I fell a little harder. hanging out with him this weekend had been amazing.

after the half hour drive, we finally got to the ER. we check to see how long it will take. to see if TheBaker should wait, or head on back and have someone else come pick me up when I'm done. they think it's going to take at least an hour.

the nurse asks when the wedding is. it's in two hours. they tell me they'll do their best to get me out of there in time. TheBaker stresses to the nurse that I'm in the wedding and have to be there. (although I was supposed to be there early to take pictures with A, I wasn't one of the bridesmaids.) he's so great.

she asks if we're together. I answer that we're friends. he looks at me a little oddly. he says to call someone to pick me up. he'll try if he has time, but his cell's dead. so I'd have to call someone to find him. I say I'll call C. he says something to the effect of of course I'll call C.

but it's a little while after they took me to the back and had me effectively pain killed that I realized maybe he took one or both of my statements the wrong way. after all he thought C and I were married when he first met us. hmmm...

the doc comes in with the x-rays. he says he's amazed, but I didn't break any bones. I said I was happy about that. he said I'd wish I'd only broken something in a week or so. great. but since it wasn't broken. they cleaned out the cuts, wrapped it up and they get me outta there in an hour. right as C shows up to pick me up. the doc and nurses were so extremely nice.

C tells me how TheBaker was impressed with how I was handling the situation. oh, sure. the crying idiot on the way to the ER, I'm sure that impressed him.

we get back to the house in time for C to set up to take pictures and for me to change. as I walk into the room, A notices my bandaged hand and asks what happened. I briefly explain, while one of the bridesmaids helps me get dressed. luckily she had no idea, so she didn't have time to get worried.

the ceremony was amazing. the receptions at the house and the restaurant down the lake equally beautiful. the cakes were amazing. TheBaker can really bake. and they looked great on the platters.

as the dancing gets going, K, one of the bridesmaids, is being a little pushy to get me to dance with TheBaker*. I have this problem with being way too shy around guys I start to really like. with a bit of help from K and one of the groomsmen, we finally do dance. he's a good dancer. and I fall a little more.

after the reception we head back to the local bar from the night before. we dance more. we do more shots. everyone gets pretty tanked. at one point I realize I'm the only girl dancing with a bunch of guys. I have no idea where the girls are or where TheBaker went off to.

the band starts to play some country. I'm not a huge country fan, but after going to school in Texas, I do like to two-step. one of the grooms friends who I've known for a while wants to two-step with me. after the dance, it's time to leave.

TheBaker has reappeared. but I'm too drunk and medicated to worry about the fact that he disappeared. we climb in M's truck. C drives the few blocks back to the cabin, since the girls still have on their heels.

we get back to the cabin. K and TheBaker are on the couch. I head out to the car to grab my iPod to get some tunes playing. on my way back in C comes out. he asks if I'm mad. I don't understand why I should be. he thought I'd seen. he says he should tell me. better to hear it from a friend...

* all of the girls are well awar of my interest in TheBaker. it was talked about in Vegas a few months ago.

what not to wear to a bar

after the BBQ* , the very small town bar was entertaining, to say the least. (the story is long, but well worth the read, really.)

C finally arrived in town with platters in tow. he went straight to the bar, and was trying to save us a table. he called me several times checking on our progress. I said we were on our way.

"on our way" involved getting back to the cabins from A's dad's house. then getting into town. it should have been a short walk. but herding a drunken dozen, when the shepard herself was not with sobriety took a while. C called to say he felt he might have to surrender the table. it was getting ugly. I told him to try and hold out we were nearly there.

we finally got there. I found C, and other people slowly trickled back to the pool room where we were. there was a huge group of us, the table sat about 6 people. shortly after arriving, the table next to us left and said sure, have our table.

a few of the girls started to drag the table the two feet over to the one we were already sitting at. this older "gentleman" in a cowboy hat yells at them: what the hell do you think you're doing.
one of the girls: um, just moving the tables together.
cowboy: move them back. the tables stay where they are.

after the cowboy turned his back to us, A's sister grabs another small table and places it in the two feet between the tables. angrier cowboy comes over attempting to move the table and grabs A's sister's arm. this does not go over well. things are quickly deteriorating. A's angry, A's sister's angry, cowboy is about to blow a gasket.

I, beginning to worry that we're gonna get booted out, step up to the "gentleman" cowboy and try to explain why we want to move the tables together in my best mediative tone. (yes, I'm a middle child, what of it?)

I explain we're just trying to relax and drink a little in celebration of our friends' wedding tomorrow. I finally persuade him to let us move the two big tables together and he walks away, although still a very angry man.

we laugh about it, and soon forget as shots are shared and stories are told and pictures taken.

at one point TheBaker points out that the girls toenails look good. I look at him. he explains no, he's not gay (glancing around to be sure Atlanta, who is, is not around to be offended). I still just look at him. he explains (specifically to me) that yes, even though he bakes and can say that girls' toes look nice he is straight.

hmmm... interesting... that along with his (foiled) attempt to put what I thought was my change from my drink down my shirt is making me wonder if the interest may be somewhat reciprocated? (and it wasn't the change, it was actually my ten, he'd bought my drink for me...)

anyway, back to the entertainment... C returns from the bathroom where he tells me the following story:

so, there's this guy in the restroom and he is telling some other guys
why he's wearing a diaper. yes, you heard me correctly, a diaper.

it's visible, I saw it. no, not that, the diaper.

DiaperBoy told the others in the bathroom that he wore it in case he
was making in roads with a hot chick when he had to use the facilities. ya know,
so if he was about to get a number from a girl, and he had to relieve himself,
he could just use the diapers and still get the number before heading to the
restroom to, um, change.

he also tells the guys listening that the other great benefit is it
makes his package look huge.

I just stare at C in disbelief. he assures me he is relaying a factual account of the bathroom goings-on.

of course I have to spread this story to the girls and TheBaker and anyone else that will listen, because it's hilariously ridiculous!

a little while later all of us girls are on the dance floor shaking it when DiaperBoy walks up. M looks at me and says she's gonna call him on it. I didn't really believe her because M isn't an outspoken person normally. I couldn't have been more wrong.

M walks up to DiaperBoy and says: excuse me, but are you wearing Depends?

I love M. and at this moment she is my hero. but I can't even stick around for the answer. I am dying laughing. I have to tell C what M said.

as I'm telling C, I look over and DiaperBoy is explaining his diaper to the girls. he even whips it out (no, his extra diaper) to show the girls.

I grab my camera... I had to. no one would believe me otherwise.

yes, really. that's it in his left hand.

as the evening's winding down we're all dancing and the angry "gentleman" cowboy walks by M... she "accidentally" hip checks him. wow, that's impressive. I laugh, it was not very hard and harmless.

he walks by again and she repeats her dancing hip-swaying right into him. but really hard this time. I tell her she has to stop. I'm a little frightened she might dislocate the old guys hip. it's after last call anyway.

a drunken dozen or so herding themselves back towards the cabins.

it ends up being TheBaker and I meandering back ahead of everyone else. he's funny and cute and great company to stumble home with... I'm in so much trouble.


* if you haven't read the rest of the posts this week, you should...

apparently chivalry is dead

we now interrupt this tale of weekend escapades to bring you a brief rant...

as I'm walking out of the coffee shop this morning, coffee in my non-wounded and bandaged hand. the gentleman (and I use that term very loosly) in front of me let's the door slam. right into me. luckily I was quick and stuck a foot out so as not to spill scalding coffee or have the door hit my injured hand. it would be one thing if he hadn't seen me, but he knew I was right behind him. another guy walking up to the door just shook his head. probably thinking to himself no wonder some women think guys are jerks...

and now back to our regularly scheduled escapades...

friends new and old

the bridal luncheon was typical. ladies in dresses and skirts, all making nice. bridesmaids opening presents and posing for pictures. the place, however was a little atypical.

the luncheon was the same place the wedding ceremony is at Saturday. a beautiful new house A's dad was building for friends of the family right on the shore of the lake. it's amazing. and the view. wow.

we drank wine and laughed and cried. it was great to see the girls that went to Vegas with us for A's bachelorette party. although I've only known them a short time, I consider them my friends, too.

after we're done wining and dining, we head over to the cabins where most of A's family and friends are staying. I walk into "the girls" cabin and TheBaker is standing in the kitchen. he gives me a big hug. (causing me to grin madly to myself.)

most of the girls have to go rehearse for the big event. M, TheBaker and I and A's friend from Atlanta are left to hang out. TheBaker begins to decorate his cakes. I talk with M and Atlanta. typical good-to-meet-you small talk. then it's time to leave for the BBQ. we leave TheBaker behind to work on the cakes and go over to A's dad's house.

the BBQ is great (except for the groom-to-be and his friends being really late, angering A's dad). A's old professor that I met over New Year's is there we catch up. everyone eats and laughs. we roast marshmallows by the bonfire, enjoy the sunset on the mountains and play drinking games (classy, I know).

TheBaker shows up and sits down with us. people are chatting about all kinds of things. C's name comes up and TheBaker says to me, "I thought you two were married when I first met you."

huh? what? don't you know silly boy to check for a ring? just because a guy from work comes out drinking with A and I often does not mean we're married. he's a great guy, but I've learned my lesson about ever fishing from the company pier.

intriguing, nonetheless. at least he's thought about my single or not status.

the evening wears on, and we wear out our welcome at A's dad's house. it's time to move our drinking party to the local bar. the local very small town bar...

if I can only get past the pass

after a late night of criminal activity, gluing together cake platters, laundry and packing, I had a really hard time waking up Friday morning. however, after TheDog jumped on my chest, getting up seemed like a viable option.

I quickly got everything together, packed up the cheesecakes, dress and everything. M called as she got to our pre-determined caravan spot. I was just leaving my house, so I was about 15 minutes behind her. I figured I'd catch her on the pass, as my load consisted of a wedding dress, whereas her truck was loaded down with lots of alcohol*.

cruising along, listening to my iPod, not a care in the world. then suddenly everyone's dead stopped at the base of the pass. construction. I wait for about 15 minutes, nothing. I call M, she said they didn't stop her, she sailed right through. but they did have it down to one lane. so they were alternating directions.

I wait. cute guy rolls up to me in his too-expensive sedan with tinted windows, we chat, I fill him in on the construction. then I hear what sounds like a child's laughter coming from the radio. no, not the radio, he's got two kids in the backseat. oh, and there's the ring. I've gotten lax about checking. could be the sleep deprivation.

finally. we start moving. I'm behind a few semis and cars. after the construction zone the pass is two lanes. two semis decide to enter into a snail race with each other up the hill, at least 20 mph below the speed limit. it is not my morning.

they're still in front of me on my way down. there's nothing I can do about it, so as I'm coasting down in low gear, I start to think if there's anything I forgot.

the cake platters. A will kill me. actually, A won't but TheBaker will. and I was hoping to impress him.

for a minute I am crushed, all the hard work to throw those platters, and for nothing. I guess I can drive back down to get them after the bridal luncheon.

wait, silly tired girl. C is coming up tonight after work, just have him bring them. I call, he's happy to, particularly since my sister can pick them up from my house when she gets TheDog and drop them by the office for him. great. disaster averted.

I get into town just in time to get to the luncheon. no time to drop anything anywhere beforehand as I had planned since the construction on the pass delayed me by almost an hour. but I'm there and it's time to start celebrating A getting married!

pour me a glass of wine, please!

* lots is a significant understatement here!

... to a blog near you...

since my typing is slow and a little painful, but my memory sucks so I want to get this all down soon, I'll start to relay small stories as I can.

and thanks for the well wishes... I'm fine, really.

coming soon...

I'm not sure if Jeremy jinxed me with his comment from last week's post or not, but the many entertaining stories from the weekend will have to wait until I can type more efficiently with one hand...

what a girl won't do for a little frosting

today was cold and wet and rainy. and although much preferable to the record breaking temperatures of a few weeks ago, the weather and the news* made me want to curl up on my couch with a blanket, TheDog, and a good book.

I couldn't.

I had tons of work to do. and I still have to get everything packed to head up to the mountains for A's wedding.

something about the weather was making me a little anti-social. I had started to wonder if anyone would miss me if I didn't show? if I holed up on my couch with said book and dog for the weekend, instead?

I know they would, since I have part of the food for the reception in my freezer. the platters for their cakes. and I'm bringing A's wedding dress. but even knowing I had to go couldn't break the cloudiness.

until I got a call from A.

they are already up in the mountains starting the celebration. they forgot a few things. they left a key and the alarm code for me to get the dress. but there were a few things in their garage that they didn't leave a key for. one being the frosting for the cake**.

but being as I have the bad luck, they asked M to come over and do the risky work. she asked me to come help her break in, so that someone would be there. in case.

we walked around to the side of their garage, lighting our way by flashlight. we got the window out. she carefully crawled through. we're laughing and a little bit nervous. what if the neighbors call the cops?

she's in. she finds the frosting in their freezer. then the tub that was added to the request.

she comes to the door to unlock it for me. but there's no key. so the two of us brilliant engineers contemplate trying to get the tub through the window. it's never going to fit. then it (finally) hits me. it's a garage. there's this crazy invention called a garage door.

we get the stuff out and through the gate. the window replaced. and M hits the button and the door begins lowering. she runs out of the garage. as she passes the threshold the door stops and opens again.

of course, the don't-squash-the-cat-sensor. she tries again. jumping over the beam as she leaves the garage. it works. mission accomplished.

oh, but the garage light is on. oops.

by this time we're laughing hysterically. back at the window, taking it back out. M crawling back through. she flips the switch. pushes the button. jumps the sensor. and is back out. just as I finish getting the window back in.

yes, instead of packing or rainy day relaxing, we spent our Thursday night breaking into our friends' garage for frosting. not once, but twice.

what a girl won't do for a little frosting. or a friend.


* it's a sad, sad day. not only are the Avs losing Adam, but Peter's leaving, too. I really may cry.

** the guy that made the cake was a little worried about the frosting of them last week when I talked to him. I can't imagine his panic at having no frosting.

everything can change in an instant

through no (or very little) fault of your own...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

one moment you're sleeping soundly after enjoying a fabulous home-cooked meal with a few wonderful friends.

a pipe pops out of it's fitting.

the next thing you know you're frantically trying to find the water main after unsuccessfully trying to find the shut-off knob under the sink. you shop-vac up the 6 inches of water in the kitchen. the 6 inches that hadn't soaked through the wood floors into the basement rendering your furnace useless. and the house and your life won't be the same for a long time.

***

one moment you're enjoying your first game of broomball in a recreational co-ed league. you loved playing in grad school, and are happy to be out on the ice again.

a newbie on the other team attempts to get the ball away with an inadvertent high stick. to your face.

the next thing you know your friend S is telling you you should really check out your eye in the bathroom before determining if you can finish out the game. you look. it's not pretty. there's an inch (or so) long split in your eyelid. and it's starting to swell shut. your sister takes you to the ER where the doc tells you you got a mild concussion, stitches you up, and is a little worried that your cornea got scratched. you have friends and strangers questioning "who did that to you?" your date for your company holiday party is embarrassed to go out with you, lest people think he did it. a random stranger offers to "take care of him for you." you still have a (noticable to other people) scar making you question whether you should have let the doc talk you into the plastic surgery he was recommending.

***

one moment you're enjoying your mountain vacation in celebration of your sister's upcoming hitchdom, walking your dog across the street (er highway), carefully waiting to avoid all traffic.

a pothole the size of a pizza decides to swallow your ankle.

the next thing you know you're trying to keep your dog from being hit by a car, trying to gather the contents of your bag before they get run over, and trying to get yourself off the street, although you can't put any weight on your ankle. then you're in the emergency clinic being told that besides needing a tetanus shot for the road rash, you have to be on crutches for at least a week. then your sister gets angry because you're her maid of honor in 6 days, and she doesn't want you on crutches hobbling down the aisle. weeks later you still have pain, since a piece of bone decided it no longer wanted to be a part of the rest of your bone and would rather stick only to your tendon.

***

one moment you're stepping into the shower, just as you do every other day of your life.

a little something slippery causes your foot and leg to slide to one side of the tub.

the next thing you know your sister is attempting to pick you up off the floor of the tub, asking if you're ok. the last thing you remember is the edge of the tub rapidly approaching your face. the ER doc says you've broken your nose, bruised your eye orbital and given yourself a nasty concussion. you can't do your triathlon two days later (although you really thought you could up until about 18 hours before, that vicadin really makes you feel a little invincible). lingering torn (and just plain angry) muscles meant you still had issues with a numb arm and sore neck months later. when the weather changes you still feel it in your eye and nose.

***

one moment you're stopped at a stop light on your way to work. it's a great day. your doctor gave you the ok to actually workout again without worrying about your head throbbing and arm going numb.

a foot "slips off the brakes" (and apparently onto the accelerator with significant force) of the SUV behind you.

the next thing you know you're on your way to the hospital in an ambulance. you're mostly worried about the work you did last night. a letter you need to send out that day. that your laptop was in the trunk, and your work was not backed-up. about your car. then the doc tells you that you're going to be alright, you won't be paralyzed (hmmm, maybe work and a car are not so important if that was a possibility). over a year later you still have significant back and hip problems and pain.

***

you're happily walking your dog on a beautiful summer day.

a loud noise spooks him and he takes off, pulling you with him.

the next thing you know you're lying on the ground. calling after the dog who is out in the street. your knee hurts. you manage to get yourself and the dog back to the house. the doc says you broke your knee cap. you'll be on crutches for 6 weeks. you can't drive.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

all of these happened in less than three years. all but the last happened to me.

my mom fell today and broke her knee cap. she's a school teacher. although she's off for the summer right now, she's supposed to be back at school in two weeks. I can't imagine teaching 25 third graders while attempting to get around your classroom on crutches.

when I'd get down about any of these moments or when I'd wonder, "why me?" my mom would tell me that we are not handed things in life that we are unable to deal with. that the people that seem to have perfect lives are either lying to everyone, lying to themselves, or simply unable to handle adversity.

well, as you can see, my luck is not the greatest. and apparently my mom's isn't either. but I know my mom is strong and will make it through this. after all, I had to get my strength in the face of adversity from somewhere.

and I can celebrate this August 1st as the first in a few years that I did not spend in an emergency room...

being ageless

do I look young? do I just act too young? or am I simply refusing to accept that I am not twenty-something anymore?

my mom came to a girly mom and daughter event with me last night. we were parking as my friends A & M walked by with their moms. my mom exclaims that their moms look young.

I guess they may be a bit younger than she is. I'm one of her youngest children, and both A & M are 7 years younger than me. that would likely make their moms a bit younger than mine. but I never would have thought of that.

many of my other girl friends are a few years younger than I am. of course many are a couple years older as well. maybe both of those are due to the agelessness of my thinking. I really don't think in terms of age.

I've been occasionally seeing a guy that is 8 years younger than me, for around 4 months now. I ran into an old flirtation yesterday, he's also mid-twenty-something. got an e-mail from another that's late-mid-twenty-something.

I wonder if the younger guys and my younger friends think it's odd that a thirty-something wants to hang out with them. I sometimes wonder why they want to hang out with me. then I realize that's just silly, of course it's because I'm fabulous. (and quite obviously modest.)

then there's those few people that think I'm not qualified to be in the position I am in professionally because of how old I look (hopefully not act). sure I enjoy people always thinking my younger sister is older than me, and I like to have fun, but I act responsibly and very professionally when necessary. perhaps my recent promotion shows that at least my bosses believe that.

but I still wonder. maybe I am acting too young, hanging out with too young of friends and guys. I've always been terrible at figuring out people's ages, always had friends spanning a decade or two in age, always enjoyed many things thought to be too old or too young for my current age. I usually haven't worried about it.

why, then, does one comment plant the seed that makes me question if people can have relationships that are ageless? even if they can, should they? and most importantly, should I?