Wake Up Call

I woke up the day after my birthday (the day we were all headed to Black Hawk for a big birthday celebration) to a 3:30am phone message from Leslie.  I can write about it now (that I'm super late on updating the blog) without getting emotional, but at the time our worlds were rocked.

Tommy came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, and just fell over.  He was unresponsive, couldn't speak, couldn't move.  The ambulance took him to the nearest hospital, which quickly determined he had suffered a massive stroke.  They loaded him onto a helicopter to be taken for surgery at Swedish Medical, the premier stroke hospital in the state.  And they told Leslie to say goodbye then, because no one knew if he would make it there, much less into and out of surgery.

I ran to her house to pack her a bag and pick up her pup, and as people began descending upon the hospital, we were one of the many who showed up to show love to this incredible couple.  With hindsight, Tommy is doing just incredible.   He's regained his speech and mobility, he's slowly and surely recovering to his self again.  It's been inspiring to watch.  But it was a terrbile day as friends, helpless in almost every way.

We canceled the trip and remained in shock for most of the weekend.  The Groesbecks came over to spend the Friday evening, and that was when I cried.  I just couldn't believe this had happened: to someone we knew and loved, to someone so young.  It resulted in a group hug which Mike made less awkward with some sort of funny comment I don't remember now.  But I was, and am, so thankful for the life I have, and the friends I have in it.

Kona milked the evening for all it was worth; Max was just confused.

Shadow

Sometimes I feel as though my life is being measured through this window.

Joy

I met Leslie and her (and I guess now my) mutual friend Guy's two daughters at Color Me Mine in Boulder this afternoon.  Emma, 11, and Addy, 7, were both very unsure of my addition to their afternoon outing.  We painted our respective cups (over sized coffee mugs for Leslie and me, an "I Love Daddy" mug for Addy, and a wine goblet for Emma...), listened to Addy go through her repertoire of nursery school songs, repainted, talked, and then left for Boulder Cafe for treats...kids AND adults.

After a glass of wine and some really great queso, the conversation quickly turned to farts (the kids) and disbelief that Addy wasn't going to be paying for the meal (the adults).  After a strange but fun afternoon wherein I realized it had been a long time since I was their age, we headed to our cars and on our separate ways.

Leslie picked Addy up and gave her a piggy back ride.  A few steps out, and for the life of me I still can't figure out what made me do it, I turned to Emma and said "Look here, there is a one-time offer."  I bent down so she could climb on my back and she did so with the biggest squeal of glee that I've ever heard.  We were all four off, Leslie and I acting as pack animals and the girls giggling at both being carried down Pearl Street.  Emma never stopped.  And while Addy squeezed at Leslie's sides and squirmed, Emma was completely still on my back (besides vibrating from laughter), afraid I think that if she moved I'd put her back down.  After two blocks we were all laughing, we just couldn't stop.  People stared and we were breathless and I mentally thanked The Lord I'd worn my flats that day, and we laughed ourselves over ten blocks, almost falling into a heap.

"This...is...the...best...day...ever!!" Emma breathed through the gales of girly giggles into my ear.

And in my heart I meant it when I heaved, bouncing her up and down the sidewalk and trying to keep my voice from catching while my heart was pumping fast, "Yes.  Yes it is."

Itty Bitty House Company

I've been fascinated with the Tiny House Movement for a while...but since the Sunday of Quivas Noah, I've become almost obsessed with getting rid of "stuff".  This is a long time coming, I'm sure...and probably started with the crawl space.  But in my iPad search of available tiny houses, tiny house plans, pictures, etc. this has become my new fav.  The Itty Bitty House Company has made what I truly believe is the perfect combination of form, function, and storage.  I will admit: I've watched the video five times, and each time I find something else to love and appreciate (dog bed space?  a dressing area?  brilliant).

Check it out.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYvHPQL_cm0

Floored

I was really kidding about the Lakeside Property bit.  This is just unreal.

I told Mike hours later, the thing that hit me the most as we wondered if the flooding would stop, if it could reach the house, what we'd bring if we ended up being evacuated was: why do I have so much crap?!

There was a scene in an Amy Adams movie where, at the suggestion of the guy she ends up falling for, she pulls the fire alarm in her swanky NYC apartment to see what her fiance, and what she herself, would scramble to take "if the house was on fire".  It's easy for me to speculate, not having just lost my house to a river, or, like some people we spoke with last night, having a house I can't go back to because the infrastructure of my entire city is gone.  But as we thought about a list of what we'd take if we were told to leave, I was surprised at the lack of "stuff" on it.

That being said, all my legal documents and IDs are now safely stored in a fire/water-proof safe to be grabbed at a moment's notice.  And, we're discovering, fear is a formidable foe to a budget.

Who would've thought flood insurance might be a good idea.  In Colorado.  Where it's sunny 300 days of the year...

It's a Zoo Out There

On Sunday, we woke up to a glaringly bright day in spite of the night's storm.  We decided to stop at Falls Park on the way out of town since we had missed the planned opportunity the night before.  It was definitely worth the detour.

Sioux Falls is seriously all about the sculpture.  I like.

 "Oh...wow."  Even Mike was impressed.

 Falls!

The falls were so powerful in some parts that it created foam like there was dish soap coming down the rocks.  But it was natural!

 An old gent also visiting the falls said "I'm a free photographer in my spare time" and took our photo.  Cute.

 Panorama.  Go on.  Click and appreciate.  APPRECIATE!

We drove through Iowa to get to our next stop, which was an unexpected delight!  The short list of states I wasn't sure I'd ever visit is now one state less long.

I think I might've taken this photog shortly before we got pulled over...oops.  Fortunately the State Trooper was kind enough to lower the speed at which we were flying to 1-5 miles over the limit rather than the actual (10-15).  Needless to say the rest of our trip was at a bit slower pace...

We arrive at our next stop around lunch time, and fought for a parking spot as Mike admitted that this might be a more legit zoo than he originally gave it credit.

We ate a pretty terrible lunch at the cafe, but decades later I finally sat by the window at which we dined when I was a kid.  In my mind I picture it as this huge enclosure that domed around the monkey chamber and sloped downward forever.  Sometimes adult perspective is unwanted.  But I still loved seeing it again.

The dessert area and "night creatures" tunnels underneath were probably my favorite.  It is an incredibly well-planned zoo.

We both jumped sky high at this statue.

"Hey, next time we go camping, let's get bear mace."
"Done."

When we visited as kids, there were two polar bears.  One of the zoo visitors started throwing food into their enclosure (I do NOT condone nor recommend this), and the big white bears started showing of in the water, doing what I would consider tricks for more human food.  It was incredible, because you could watch them in the water through mile high glass, or watch them from above.  This poor guy was too hot to do much; I understood.

 Aviary.

 Our view of the rhino atop the SkyRide (worth it).

 Garden of the Senses.

 Wassaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.

Butterfly Pavilion, our second-to-last stop on the four hour adventure!

 Always.  This always happens to him.  He's like a winged creature magnet!

 Last stop: aquarium.  Cursed strollers.

We drove an hour to Lincoln from there, and stopped by what was once a summer stay: my great grandmother's house.  I thought for sure that I'd remember things in the neighborhood or on the way to her home.  But I didn't.  I do remember this, though.  And the basement that both thrilled and terrified my sister and I.  Stacks of National Geographics and cups full of drink stirrers with which we were fascinated.  And the tree we would climb for hours.

I wish they took better care of the yard.

Anything but!

We checked in at the Courtyard Marriott (best hotel of the trip), showered the road off, and headed to Haymarket for the evening.

 We ate dinner at the bar at Lazlo's...

And then walked across the street to Ivanna Cone!  What was touted to me by my boss (who went to Nebraska and whose daughter now goes there) as the best ice cream ever.

 I have to say...it lived up to the hype.

We ended the evening at Brix & Stone Gastropub, where we conversed with the bar tender and a couple of locals still working at the restaurant.  They were apparently having as great a time as we were and so didn't tell us that they closed an hour earlier and only charged us $12.  It was fantastic!

Our final evening could not have been more perfect.

Eye of the Hawk

I was two minutes from the office on a four lane road when I passed a bird that had obviously been hit.  I thought perhaps it was dead, its wings fluttering in the wind the cars made whooshing by it as it sat like a toddler in the middle of the road.  But when I saw its head move I knew differently.  I drove half a mile and realized I wouldn't be able to work unless I took it out of the middle of the street.  So I turned around and drove back, finding the closest parking lot and grabbing a sheet out of the back of the car normally utilized to keep Kona puke from the carpet.

I had no idea how that was going to work, and was especially afraid when I saw its claws.  It was a hawk.  I tried talking sweetly to it as I kept my eye on incoming traffic, picked him up as carefully as I know how, and ran back to safety.  I sat him next to my car, his eye fixed drugged on me, trying again to speak softly and reassuringly to the hurting creature.  The only part of him that moved was his head.

I tried to find Animal Control's number and couldn't, so I called the police who apparently dispatch for them anyway.  After finally figuring out how to explain where I was (I've driven that road countless times to the office and had no idea what the name was), they said they would send someone.  So I sat.  Crying.  Telling it everything was going to be ok.  They called back 10 minutes later and apologized, saying that AC didn't open until 8am.  It was about 6:45 at this point and I was already late.

"I'm going to have to put this hawk in my car and take him to work with me until they can come pick him up," I thought, even more panicked.  I was readying to do just that, trying to see through the tears, when a maintenance man for the building at which I had parked drove up in his golf cart.  What I didn't know was that he was in search for the bird, he had guessed it was one of the three young hawks that lived with their mother in a nest nearby, that the lady had hit.  She came in and told him, not bothering to investigate for herself (and therefore leaving me to deal with it).  He's saved two already, both of which Birds of Prey had been able to heal, rehabilitate, and set free again.

I teared up again, so thankful for the hope.  He asked if I would donate the sheet which I swiftly replied he could have, took the hawk gently in his arms, pet his head softly (I wanted to do this but was so afraid my touch would hurt him more), and gave me his card so I could find out what happened.

I called at 9am which was too early.  Byron had left the bird with the "office gals" while they waited for him to be picked up.  "I have your number now though so I'll let you know when they do," he said.  I didn't believe him and planned to call him on my way home.

He did call me, though.  They were (finally, for crying out loud), on their way to pick the injured bird up, when Byron went to check on him.

"He had passed."

I don't think he could bring himself to tell me he was "dead".  There are specifics I guess to what you have to do with dead hawks, and it's illegal to be in possession of their feathers, even if you weren't responsible for the death.  "So I'm going to take care of him, like they instructed...but I might bury him."  I was just trying not to cry at the office...they were all already being way too nice to me that morning anyway.

"Thanks for letting me know," I told him honestly.  It would've eaten at me all day.

"I wanted to hug you this morning, but I didn't feel that would be very appropriate," Byron admitted.  And I appreciated both sentiments.

It's just a bird, I know this. And its suffering was what hurt my heart and stung my eyes more than the possibility of its life ending.  But that death has made me think quite a bit about my life since then; the debt we all owe, and will all eventually pay, for having been born as Stephen King muses in The Eye of the Dragon.

While I haven't come to any conclusions in this thinking, it did drive home once again that life is short.  That vehicles of tragedy come from every direction, sometimes when you least expect it and you're flying high with the joys of life or simply crossing one road to get to wherever mundane place is required out of living that life.  Most of the time you  make it safely to the other side.  But one day, you won't.  Something will hit you and you'll sit like a baby in the middle of life, wondering if this is the end.  Wondering if you'd lived it to its fullest.

I hope I don't have to ask; I wish I knew what to do to avoid it.

Inundated

I really don't like Dell.  Since my beginning with the company over six years ago, I've had to deal with five computer replacements, including two that resulted in my hard drive (and subsequently a lot of hard work) being completely wiped out.  I feel as though I'm pretty computer savvy, so I became tight with the Laptop Hotline guys if for nothing else than to learn how to deal with using sub-par computer products when I was so used to Apple computers.  Also, there are weeks I talk to them more than I do my parents.

I wasn't, however, without my wits. 

Every time I sent in my Dell computer with the Apple sticker covering the Dell logo in the middle of the laptop (in protest), they would have to remove it when they sent me a new one.  And because I've been purchasing Apple products since the 90s, I have an abundant supply of the little white gems.  So each time, I'd replace it.

Finally, they just gave up and started drawing worms on them when they would send me my laptop back. 

Ford is launching a new in-dealership program revolving around iPad apps, and the zone managers are receiving iPads to utilize in this regard (miss the boat on that one, but I can't be that disappointed since I already have my own).  So Laptop Hotline has been working on the security and distribution of these bad boys.

Randomly last week I received an e-mail from Bob, my favorite Laptop Hotline genius, asking if I was still in Denver.  My response was that I hadn't been involuntarily separated due to having thrown a dated piece of Windows-based equipment out the car window yet, so yes, I was still here.

A week later I receive this in the mail at the office:

His excuse was they were making the world a better place by limiting the number of Apple stickers on Dell laptops returned.

I think it's Love. ;-)

"I'll never understand the completely random things at which you become ecstatic," Grammes exclaimed.

Shortly thereafter though, he bestowed his own sticker for my cube collection.  "I didn't know you were a sticker person...maybe you could mark this out in red or something..." he said begrudgingly as he sauntered off having presented his offering:

I'm tellin' you, it's Love!  Or at least a strong sense of work-appreciation.  Same diff.

Disenchantment

I've been following this blog for years, love the quirky nature and kooky little ideas.  But when I turned the magazine page to find this, I couldn't help but feel sold out.  Does that make me emo?

Really?!  A tampon ad? C'mon, Katie.