Okay, Okay, I'm done being done.

Kind of. I can't promise anything.

Because I'm a corporate drone, let's update with bullet points. I've been a citizen of a corporation so long, that when I am in a hurry, I just naturally gravitate towards the bullet point. This is officially the death of the grad student inside of me. Goodbye, longwinded narrative prose. Goodbye soul.

• Have you ever seen that Office where Michael tells the office that they are getting laid off, make fabulous plans for the future, are excited about the change, and then find out they aren't getting laid off in the end and feel totally deflated as a result? That was me last week. I still have my job. Whoopee.
• I fully realize how whiny that statement is. A lot of people would like to have jobs.
• My boss's last day, however, is December 31. I am incredibly sad about this fact. He is one of the few things I truly love about my job.
• The Kid's down-titration of meds is causing some major behavior issues. Or perhaps it is the fact that he's really obsessed with Christmas and isn't sleeping.
• The Kid's doctor is still certain that we drop meds without adding anything else. Issues will sort themselves out.
• I very reasonably and calmly informed the school of what's going on with the meds, and although they were initially very against the dropping of meds, I've gotten them to understand the impetus to do so, and how very vital it is to the health of The Kid to do so, although they still don't see that we had periods like this with the meds too, because we all think in frameworks and cause and effect of the easiest identifiable thing.
• We meet tomorrow afternoon to discuss how best to handle the behaviors we're seeing.
• They assure me they are not talking about a change of placement. I realize how fucked in the head I am still from the previous school's inability to create behavior plans and follow IEP's, because I find it hard to believe that they are this professional and willing to work with me to keep The Kid in school, to keep him safe, and to get him learning instead of spending time outside of the classroom calming down from anger.

Okay, I have to go to work. It also snowed like crazy this week and remained below freezing so driving sucks right now. I really hate snow. I'm not over last winter. I am dreaming of Hawaii.

Love Letter to Denver

Dear Denver,

I've really only known this city. I was born here. Grew up in its perfect climate. I only left for five years, but came back to raise my family. This is my city. This is my home.

I have snapshots in my head of those days when I realize how much I love it here. Almost all sunny. Sometimes with rainbows.

There are the days, at Bronco games; sunny, warm December days, climbing the ramps to my seats, feeling a crowd of Denverites collecting to enjoy the day and our sport and some coors light. I look over the edge of the stadium, either facing west, to our mountains, or east, to our city, and just feel so lucky to be a part of this life here. We've got it good.

There are the hot summer days, the sun lasting late into the evening. I take the Kid to Liks for ice cream and then the musuem to run through the dancing fountain on the west side. This is my favorite place to see Denver from the steps of the DMNS.

There are my every day walks from my office west to the Union Station, the quick jaunt (which is never so quick) to the Tattered Cover, or the north route, insanely more interesting but arguably less safe, up to 22nd St then east toward the federal courthouse and back.

There are the nights out, I love to go out in Denver, to the dive bars on Colfax or the swanky spots in LoDo (but never, ever on Market Street, except for El Chapultepec), the neighborhood bars all over the city. I love to go out in Denver because jeans are perfectly acceptable attire for a steakhouse. I love to go out in Denver because there's always something new, but not so much new that you need entire magazines to navigate the city. It's a managable size, is all. My head wraps around Denver, and I love it.

I love that I know too much useless trivia about this place that I could never ever learn if I went somewhere else. Like, The Buckhorn is liquor license number one. The Cruise Room is number two, and is an exact replica of the bar on the Queen Mary. Or that the city's distinctive houses are all built with brick, partially because the city burned down a few times, but also because the city was run at the turn of the century by the bricklayers (or rather, the bosses of the bricklayers). I love that I know the streets and the locales and the city like the back of my hand. I can't imagine not working downtown, and if that all changes, I'll need to make special dates just to hang out down there. I wish I could live down there, but that's a different story entirely.

I love being a native of this place. Really. I love how my family made it here, between my dad's family, Paddy working on the railroad and all, or my mom, California dreaming in the sixties but just not quite being able to leave Colorado once she arrived here along the way. I also love that my family is still here (with one exception), that we're freakishly close and all love to be here for these exact reasons. The Broncos, the sun, the mountains, the sun, the history, the city, each other.

Denver is not a city with a whole lot of character of its own. It's newish, the architecture speaks to its boom and bust cycles. We like beer, we love sports, most of us like bikes and/or skiing. Apparently, a lot of us have dogs, and are skinnier than say, Indianapolis.

My love for Denver is not really about Denver. Its about my life, because it's here, in Denver, and that life is so rich, it's all love, all over.

I remember driving home from college with my sister Peggy after I graduated. I was really not looking forward to spending the summer in Denver. A lot of my friends had moved. Shannon had a baby. I had broken up with my boyfriend. I could not abide living in this cowtown, and couldn't wait for the day I left again to go to Ireland. I hemmed and hawed and I don't know how Peggy didn't shove me out of the car somewhere outside of Topeka (it's hot in Topeka, you know). I finally explained all of my resistance to the place to Peggy, and she got it, but she also funadmentally disagreed with me, because she recognized the city for what it was, namely, HOME; and so, as we made that turn on I-70, early summer and the thunderstorms that accompany it, we were treated to and explosion of sun out of the clouds, those God-rays, the shafts of light, and rainbows. Plural. I tried to be smug, but I knew, I was happy to see it again. It was my home. Always was, and always will be.

When Writing Every Day is Getting a Little Too Hard

I'm scheduled to write a love letter to Denver tonight. Unfortunately, I had a little too much fun last night with Denver and I'm really freaking tired and I just want to go to bed. I should have written my love letter on a bar napkin last night.

We went to a few bars on Colfax last night. Started at the Cheeky Monk, a newish place specializing in affordable food and incredibly expensive belgian beers. Next, we hit the Red Room. Then the Satellite Bar. There was good, adult conversation. There were scrumptious beers. And a juke box with Metallica. I'm kind of amazed that I'm still awake right now.

So, I spent the day today watching football, trying to facilitate The Kid enjoying his last day of the five day break provided by Thanksgiving, cooking. The Kid spent a lot of the day playing with a neighbor, between our house and the neighbor's.

Also, he wrote out his Christmas wish list. It's kind of ginormous. I told him to just write down everything he could think of, and santa will surely find one or two things to bring him. I hope that The Kid understands that I really mean he's only getting one or two things on his list. No worries though, I've already got one of these hidden in the hope chest under the blankets, waiting to be set out on Christmas morning. It'll be the bestest Christmas ever.

Snow Sucks

Remember how I used to be all, "I love snow, it's peaceful and it makes you slow down?" Yeah, I'm over the slowing down. I've never wanted to believe in the prognosticating powers of a ground hog as much as I do today. Please, Jack Frost, get the heck out of Denver and go back to Buffalo or Minneapolis where you belong.

I can't begin to tell you how happy I am that it is 2007. 2006 was a challenge, to put things in the most optimistic way possible. But in 2007, things so far are good for The Kid and I. Four whole days into 2007, and I can tell you all is well.

Why do I love 2007? Let me list the ways...

• The Kid is kicking life's butt right now. He is calm, when he is not calm he is reasonably redirectable. He's "graduating" from Hospital School tomorrow and will head back out into the public school system on Tuesday.
• My sweetheart of a cousin very randomly gave me his copy of Veronica Mars Season 1, and that will only lead to girls nights, which are always a good thing. Shannon? I can smell the champagne and nail polish, yo. Will you braid my hair? Peggy, you are so invited.
• While I'm still fighting the insurance companies to pay our huge amount of claims from 2006 and no psychiatrist within our shrinking insurance network will provide care for The Kid, the lead attending at the hospital The Kid has been both inpatient and attending school called me today and agreed to provide us ongoing psychiatric care at a reduced rate at his private practice. He said he cares a lot about The Kid and wants him to succeed. Me too, Doc, and thank you.
• I'm enjoying work again for the first time in months. It's the thrill of the hunt, I think. Like, today? I brought in about $30,000 of potential new business, and I'm feeling like I am back on top of my shit there. And, I don't want to cry as I drive into my parking garage, which is always a good thing.
• I am fresh off of visits from so many of my favorite people on this earth over the week between Christmas and New Years, only to be anticipating a visit from my favorite Tiger on earth, Jaci, next weekend. I have so many great friends, my family is the best, this just has to be the best of all possible worlds.

Does it ever warm up in this country?

The coming superstorm has come and superstormed all over us. The city of Denver has been ransacked. Chaos reigns in the streets. I fear that I will never get out of my parking lot:
The Kid screamed in anquish:

Okay, not so much anguish. But at some points in his trek about the snow covered condo complex we call home, all I could see was the blue hood of his parka. It was up to his head, yo.

And while I secretly, or not so secretly, love the weather and excuse to stay in my pajamas at all hours of the day and night, I did not like spending hours trying to dig my car out of this snow, only to realize that my HOA would not be coming to plow our parking lots until tomorrow, or possibly ever, rendering my hard work and sore muscles all for naught, as I will never, ever be able to back into (and then drive out of) the 4 foot drift of snow that is directly behind my vehicle. Or, I will have to shovel out my parking lot my damn self. But at any rate, I will not be making it to work tomorrow either. But I still need to work. So, please, call a whambulance for me immediately.

Also, because of this storm, my playdate with Mr. Lady, Alison and Sarah has been indefinitely postponed. This really sucks because I've not been able to hang out for an entire evening sans children with Mr. Lady for approximately 5 years (I'm so not kidding about this, am I Shannon?), nor with Sarah for any appreciable time since we were in Indiana at a wedding, and her friend and I saw fit to laugh at her when she broke her thumb the night before she had incredibly important guest book duties at a wedding we would be attending the next day. Alison, however, I've seen recently, thank GOD, but I simply don't see her enough. So anyway, I'm bummed about the postponement. However, it WILL happen. It must.

So, I guess, watch what you wish for. On one hand, I've got all the pajammy jam time I've been praying for as of late, but on the other, I'm stuck in my house with an awesomehouseparty.com junkie who is going a little bit stir crazy. He also eats me out of house and home, so much so that he has turned to eating snow to fill his insatiable appetite:

I actually love blizzards, however, for this exact reason: it's the best excuse to be stuck at home for days with just me and The Kid. The Kid and I have had so much time on our hands, we've developed a new sport, Snow Wrestling, and we've figured out that The Kid can "oink" Jingle Bells, while I simply cannot make my pig noise go fast enough to create any kind of rhythm. It's really hard to explain, but it's simply awesome. The Kid completed a charming art project, I've eaten about 3 candy canes today because The Kid always decides at the last minute that he actually does not want a candy cane in his hot chocolate. Basically, all moms need ME time. It's huge, in trying to keep the semblance of sanity in family life. But all families also need US time. For us, this blizzard is a time out. No appointments, no rushing around. (I'm so about to go all Goonies on you here). Out there, it's "their time" (their time!). During a blizzard, well, you get the rest.

Two Unrelated Things

First, I'd like to refer you all to this excellent article in the NY Times.

Second, I'd like to illustrate why I love Colorado.

Last Friday, it snowed. Quite a bit.

We woke up Saturday to a lovely blanket of snow and a clear blue sky. Naturally, a snowman was made:



Then, on Sunday:



I can't articulate it. But this is why I love living in Colorado. But pay close attention to the fact that The Kid is wearing sandals. And climbing on the carcass of our rocking snowman, a mere 18 hours after his, uh, birth. Heh. I heart Colorado, where snowmen aren't built to last...

I'm Not Saying You Should Sweat The Small Stuff...

But that small stuff can sure cheer you up from time to time.

Case in point #1:

On my way to work every day, I walk past the Museum of Contemporary Art in Sakura Square. They have a installation up right now that consists of a motion detector and two speakers on the side of the building. As you walk by, it gives you compliments. "Hey there, you look terrific." "I can tell you are going to have a great day." "Nice shoes!" I look forward to it every day.

Case in point #2:

Going out of town for the weekend and returning to dozens of emails from friends, e-friends and perfect strangers giving me encouragement and good advice.

Case in point #3:

Aspen leaves. I know that most of you who read this blog either live in Colorado or have at one time lived in Colorado (and one of you is headed BACK to Colorado-yea!), so, you already know what fall is like in Colorado, especially in the mountains. But for those of you who don't know, let me give you a quick primer on fall in CO. It is short. Like, it lasts for a few days.

That is, if you measure fall by the brightly colored leaves on the deciduous trees in the area, the decay of green summer into bright oranges and yellows and even reds that trickle down onto the ground. When I lived in Indiana, I was always amazed at how fall seemed to go and go and go. How in October, the leaves on the enormous trees on my school's campus slowly lost their summer chloroform and turned deep reds and oranges and all the colors you'd hope to see in a sunset. More amazing, was how in November I could still see those colors. In the montaine regions of Colorado, there really is only one kind of deciduous tree (I'm no scientist, there are probably others, but when you're talking iconic Colorado, yes, there is only one): The Aspen.

This weekend, my mom took The Kid and I to the Rockies to breathe in the peak of the turning of the aspen leaves. It was so wonderful to get away, to sleep in a mostly empty, clean condo, and eat mountain-style home cooking. In short, I'm rested, and ready for another week.

So, northeast, you can take your big fancy trees with their months of color, the raking and that oddly comforting smell of decaying summer. Here in Colorado, we get our bursts of color for only a day or two, and for the first time in my life, we made the trek up the hills on the exact right weekend. It was heavenly.

Note: blogger is driving me slightly batty tonight and I can't get my photos attached to this post. I have, however, totally stollen the idea from Mr. Lady's fabulous flikr link on her page, and if you want to see what I did this weekend, check out the photos!!!

ARG!

It is 102 degrees in Denver today. Oy.

In order to avoid the heat, we went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I guess it all started with Lord of the Rings, or maybe even the Matrix's second two movies, but there is definitely a trend toward Hollywood making movies that have plots last over several movies. It's not like Star Wars, the first three of which had actual beginnings, middles and endings for each movie, with a larger plot paying off at the end of the third. This second Pirates movie was a lot of exposition for the movie that will come out next year.

That said, I thought it was such a blast. The Kid enjoyed it very much too. Some parts were a bit scary though and he spent a few minutes of the film on my lap with his head buried in the crook of my neck. He let out the single greatest, loudest, blood curtling, scared to death scream at the moment Captain Jack Sparrow met with the mouth of the cracken or craggen or whatever that thing was called. It was good, thrilling moviegoing.

Highly recommended.

Anyway, that's kind all I've got this afternoon, apart from a pounding sugar headache from eating half a bag of sour gummi worms.

Things to Smell about Denver

I'm a Denver native. I LOVE this city. It's a cow-town, but I love it.

You know how people who have been married to someone for a while can be both replused and endeared to a habit of their lover? For instance, let's say the wife likes to hum when she does the crossword puzzle on Sunday mornings. There's a point in the marriage where the husband has to get up and drink his coffee in another room because if she hums one more fucking time... But THEN, their marriage gets to a point where if she does NOT hum while doing the crossword puzzle, the husband gets all disconcerted and starts counting the children and making a serious inventory of his life because something is clearly missing. Then she starts to hum, and he's all good again.

Well, I have that kind of relationship with Denver.

There is so much to list about this city that I love, but to help set the mood, and to justify my deep feelings, here are a few:

• We live on the edge of the Rocky Mountains. To the East: Plains. To the West: Rockies. I love the dusting of snow in the hills, and how sometimes you get this gorgeous reflection on the hills back to the city when the sun rises. I love that I'm a twenty minute drive from a different climatic zone.
• It is sunny here at least 300 days per year. NO JOKE. That rocks.
• I love Mile High Stadium. I love walking down the ramps after the Broncos win, I love getting sunburned at a game in December. I love the view of the mountains on the one side, and watching people on the roller coasters at Elitches on the other. I love the feeling that you get, that you are a Denverite, when you get goosebumps on the season opener, and look out on the city, or the mountains (again, it depends on where you're sitting), and just feel like you're home.
• I love the casual-ness of the city. We are generally more laid back here, and to that, I say cheers.
• We love beer here. Fat Tire, Dale's Pale Ale. Our mayor is a brew-pub owner. We almost had a Coors child as a senator, but he's a punk, and we knew better.

Now for my weird dependent funky love thing about Denver:

When it is about to snow, the city smells like crap. And when I say crap, I mean it. It's like the stockyards of Kansas somehow are mystically transported to the Denver-Metro area. I can't explain it, but bring clouds, and 20 degree air to 5,280 feet above sea level and that's how you make eau de poop.

This morning, it had dusted snow, and all day flirted with the possibility of starting up again. We're supposed to get a good snow in the next day to two days (just in time for the three day weekend, right?). The Kid and I walk out of our house and to our car this morning and it was instantaneous. Oh, the snow poop smell, I thought, and then thought, Ah, how comforting. Yea! The snow-poop smell!

I told The Kid, "hey, it smells like snow!"

No sooner had I said this and The Kid grabs his sleeve and starts gagging. "UGH, mom! It smells like poop out here!"

So, 1) I now know I am no longer crazy and YES, indeed, the city smells like poop prior to a snowstorm, and 2) all is right with the world. Someday, The Kid will come to love the snow poop, ah, yes, he will...