I’m aware makes no sense, so don’t scrutinize it too closely. Cutting through my nonsense, what I’m saying is that I’m currently in Minnesota, having recently come back from a kamikaze weekend in Colorado. And tomorrow, the family and I are taking off for, you guessed it, Colorado.
Compared to my opening statement, that makes lots of sense, right?
Here’s the deal:
Last weekend, a good friend of mine from college who lives outside of Boulder, CO (she’s in the sassy orange halter top in the photo here) was the recipient of a suprise 40th birthday party. Her husband, knowing how wiley she is, threw the party six weeks before her actual birthday; in addition to that, he went through all sorts of machinations, created tangles of lies, and even went so far as to fake a phone call or two in her presence…and if that isn’t the definition of a loving relationship, I don’t know what is.
Because my college years were a floodlit time in my life–when everything seemed heightened and special and life changing and full of promise–making the trip to Colorado for a patio-top restaurant party to honor this friend seemed well worth the effort. Of course, since I was so busy being all floodlit and stuff, I ended up majoring in English in college and then becoming a teacher, which means I now don’t make enough money to pay for such a boondoggle weekend myself. Enter My Benefactress (the brunette in the photo–and if you want to say anything about her like “nice rack,” go ahead. She can take it), the pal who funded the trip. In my defense, I would like to stress that, although she paid for plane fare, car rental, and hotel room, I did shell out on a $6.00 toll road, thus carrying my weight.
The party was gratifyingly fun, the after party back at their house even more so. Stir in some good meals, a lovely run up Boulder Creek canyon one morning, and my introduction to a new drink called a Dark and Stormy (check it, cocktail fiends: put some ice in a glass, squeeze some lime over it, toss in a shot or two of rum, top it with ginger brew [non-alcoholic…kind of a ginger soda pop, available at co-ops or organic food type shops], and, if you’ve got it, mash up some fresh ginger and stir it in, too), and the weekend was outrageously happy making.
I also considered it a scouting mission for the upcoming family road trip. Yup, we’re leaving on Monday, the 18th, and will be driving a huge loop around the West for almost three weeks. First, we’ll head down to Austin, MN, where I used to live, for a visit with a sainted friend; then we’ll head through Iowa into Nebraska, where we’ll stop over in Lincoln for many hours of play in the tremendous children’s museum there (seriously, this is the third time we’ve worked that museum into our trip plans), eventually meandering into Colorado, where we’ll see all sorts of friends in Denver and Boulder (including my sister, freshly back in Denver after her two years in Guatemala); after that, it’s up through Wyoming, stopping to see my great-aunt in Cody, and then heaving over, bravely, for a glimpse of boiling mud pots in Yellowstone Park; after all this, we’ll drive to Billings to help my mom clean out her storage locker there (she’s now a Californian) before we hire a trailer to help us haul our storage locker spoils across North Dakota and back to Minnesota. At that point, we’ll collapse in a heap and stare at the new furniture in despair, as it’s not like we actually have room for it. But how very fun to go get it!
Indeedy, I’ve just been to Colorado, and now I’m heading there again. I do so love the shortness of breath and leathery skin I get while there, you see.
So I’ll be trying to post from the road and check in occasionally. But my trolling through your blogs, which has already taken a hit this summer since I’m never in my office, which is where all the best computer loafing takes place, may suffer even more.
However, I have little copies of each of your avatars framed and hanging in a shrine in the corner of my dining room, and I’m hiring a neighbor kid to come light the candles and incense in your honor twice a week, so I’m certain you’ll still feel the lurve, even in my absence.
Gotta go get the motor runnin’ now.
And, even though I do intend to keep posting with my usual regular irregularity, if you start to miss the feeling of Jocelyn Holding Forth, just come here and gaze upon this photo
The sight of me, mid-monologue, is certain to quash any wistful pangs you might be feeling. I’m here for ya like that.
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