Denver Giraffes Through the Years

Unsure as to whether even-toed ungulates at the Denver Zoo would hold enough blog-worthy interest, I decided to go for it for sake of enjoying the picture of my brother sporting a Miller beer hat as a plucky nine year old. And Lord knows what possessed me to wear head-to-toe turquoise, thank you 1989.

At any rate, the pictures range from about 1984 to 2012, taken near the giraffe exhibit, and I thought it was too cute to pass up.

1984: King of Pop gets severely
burned while filming a Pepsi commercial.

1986: Hands Across America attempted.
So close!

1989: The Simpsons debut and
Chicago tops the Billboard 100

2012: Last known Pinta Island Tortoise
Lonesome George goes extinct.

2nd Verse, Same as the First

Old Lady Schlink: back in action! Today I conveniently (or not-so-conveniently) informed the hotel manager our temperature regulating unit died in my room. With utmost courtesy they sent the handyman to inspect the damage who found the compressor totally croaked. Repairing this would take weeks, and thus they promptly gave the cue to move myself next door. The same suite that housed my favorite door slamming, bitter teenagers and parental units. Hope karma doesn't come back to bite me in the ass.

So with that said, should I find it weird that the good folks at Town Park Suites already moved a new tenant into our former hotbox of a room? Hmm.

Deets and I make daily escapes from our temporary home, doing the predictable mommy-tot routine of hitting the museum, hiking trails, and  frequenting the bike shops. It's been lonely without Mark, but we are managing.

Hiking up Flagstaff

GrammaK and I took him to Tiny Town, a quaint historic site of miniatures complete with a hand operated diesel train run by overall-clad grandfatherly trainspotters. While he loved the train, I loved the people watching: a Polish family of 6 who smashed themselves into a miniature church, the professional photographer who followed a mom and her lil' Augustus Gloop sized child, and the manic and clearly fastidious gift shop employee who all but alphabetized the souvenirs were my favorites.

Just like Dad, he knows a good
stoop when he sees one.

Yes. That IS Wilford Brimley and Richard Riehle.
Well, at least they should be.

Today's escape was to a wonderful place called Once Upon A Child, a store full of second hand awesomeness. It was absolute mom-crack: child friendly, well-organized, and loaded with cheap finds. Deets sampled the toys for an hour while I scoured their huge collection of books and shoes.

 Those are just the 0-3 months clothes!

What $15 worth of Duplo looks like. SCORE!

Tomorrow's plans? The ZOO! I figured it was time to prove to Deets that elephants do exist...

The Quaintness of Hotel Living

I can't decide who entertains me more at my free Marriott breakfast buffet: leathery Maui Jim who took fifteen packets of cream cheese, the gal who ate four powdered doughnuts with her diet coke, or String Bean Jean who literally grabbed all the Styrofoam plates and stuffed them into her Walmart sack.

My life for the next few months feels suddenly transient as I am holed up in an extended stay hotel for the next few months.  I officially have become the old crotchety lady who complains about the stomping, slamming, and stumbling noises above me. I requested a move thinking ending up next door would be better than below, and the new digs aren't as green on the other side. Nads! Turns out I am up against disrespectful belligerent teenagers who clearly, are not happy to be stuck in close proximity with their equally pugnacious parents. For two more weeks...

Despite intense homesickness and the jolting, brazen politics slathering the Colorado front range, it's good to be back. How I've missed the perfect taste of milk, good beef, and the indulgent pre-washed, pre-cut sweet carrots! And my lovely family. I had no idea how much I've missed my big brother's stories, my sister-in-law's hugs, and my parent's utter delight to hang out with Deets. Yeah yeah, go ahead and gag.

Only in the U.S.
Effort free carrot enjoyment.

Tough guy.

"High Altitude" Training

Typical Traffic Jam. BAAA.

With the pending Colorado departure, Mark, Deets, Jim and I spent Labor Day up in the mountains checking out Lake Balea and the Transfăgărășan Highway. A whopping 6,561 feet above sea level, I thought nothing of the elevation. After all, I'm from Colorado. But I found that a 3 1/2 year absence really kicked my ass as I grunted my way up the trail. It was hilarious, scrambling after the boys like a chimp. In my skirt and sneakers no less. Hey now. If I had pants that would fit, I'd wear them...

Deets dragging mom.

Deets ditching mom.

Dad and Deets laughing at mom.

Now Lake Balea has glacial reputation seeing as how the water originates from a glacier. Check out my friend's winter pics for a cooler taste of gorgeous. If you can't get enough of Romania's stoic winter snows there's an ice hotel built there every year too.


I consider this highway a rite of passage for those prone to motion sickness. Combine that with the ridiculous "high altitude" sickness I experienced, I think I deserved a freakin' medal after I successfully avoided barfing. My cure all solution? Doing it on my bike. No ifs, ands, or buts, I want need to master that road on two wheels. So stuff me into some spandex and grease me up with sunscreen, it will be done.

The road just feels so naked without its bike.

Curvy, eh?