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thing the vet recommended was to use newspaper instead of corncob or walnut
hull litter in the cage, so I scampered out to the mailboxes in the morning
to buy the week's supply. I like
getting my news on-line, but then the Travel section had a front page
story about Cuba and Hemingway and the Colorado section one about whirling
disease (in trout) for RDC and I read
the whole of Section A, giving me a lot more depth than most web articles.
The first
third of "CBS Sunday Morning," which we missed, must have had
a story on Mel Tormé because the closing credits were to the
strains of his singing "Just the Way You Look Tonight" (or whatever its
title is). So I sang (what I know of) it in the shower, and RDC asked
if that was the song they sing in "Peter's Friends." Yes indeedy.
When in 1993 we
first rented "Peter's Friends," which we could hardly avoid doing considering
its cast, we watched it and liked it so much that, going for a walk afterward
in the New England summer gloaming and talking about it, we decided to
bring the tv and vcr into the bedroom and watch it again before we fell
asleep. RDC rarely likes a movie this much, and it is one of those treat
things like having cake for dinner. So when it was on Bravo Friday night,
even though it was 11:30 and well past my bedtime, we watched it again
and I stayed awake until the last 15 minutes. I was so proud.
Then we
went to Rocky Mountain National Park. The day before I had seen Ben's
car's odometer with its tenths-spot and griped that our new car
did not have one. "Have you pressed the button yet?" he asked. It was
probably my equivalent of his bald eagle question.
I was just about to pull into the road when I saw a button next to the
digital odometer. "What does that button do?" I asked RDC, who said not
to press it and then pressed it himself, turning the odometer into a triptometer
with a tenths-spot! Yippee!
So I drove. I can shift into fifth just fine but not out. Searching for
fourth, I overcompensate toward second or reverse. So RDC put his hand
over mine on the stick to guide me. No one's done that since I learned
to drive standard in eleventh grade. But I still can't find fourth.
Eight-nine point six miles later, transmission intact, we were in the park with a stop at the Estes Park Safeway for sandwiches and Fig Newtons (the hiking food of champions). We ate our sandwiches in Moraine Park, a spot we've been meaning to visit in June since we lived here. It's meant to be awash in wildflowers. Maybe the sixth of June was early, though; the aspen were just coming into leaf.
Oh, speaking
of aspen, last weekend HAO
went to Aspen for the first time and was surprised. She thought it was
beautiful, wonderful, much different than what she expected. What did
she expect, I asked, Rodeo Drive, as I had dreaded? She couldn't quantify
what she'd expected to see but I'm glad she liked what she saw instead.
At the
trailhead we saw a Steller's Jay, which I examined through binoculars
even though it was only about 20 feet away. This one had particular a
vivid mustache and eyebrows (they have white streaks on their black faces).
And a snowshoe hare! At first just I pointed and hissed "Bunny!" and thought
that this was the Neapolitan Mastiff of rabbits.
Then I realized it was a hare, turning brown on its back but still snowy
white underneath and with feet so big even Blake would be proud to call
them his own. That was only the second hare I've ever seen; the first
was also in this park but about a month earlier in the year (and three
years ago) and still all white. This one was charming but eluded the camera.
Oh well.
We hiked up to Emerald Lake. It's only 1.8 miles each way, but steep
enough that the return journey takes much less than half the total time.
We passed Nymph Lake and Dream Lake. I resolved to swim in Dream Lake
in August. I want to swim in a lake, any lake, over 11,000 feet this summer;
Dream Lake is a good candidate. Nymph is too shallow and only .8 miles
out (meaning an audience); Emerald would be the best, nestled under glacial
cliffs, but it's much higher. Nymph had snow around it but its surface
was open; Dream had ice in parts and lots of snow around it; Emerald was
still completely covered--rotten but present.
We saw a few ground squirrels and chipmunks and I had one of my Lenny
fits. Cockatiels smell nicer, but mammals make for better petting.
We met a couple from Wisconsin at Emerald Lake and talked on the way
down. RDC was in the lead and I behind and then the other two. RDC said,
"It's raining!" and I lifted my hands up over my head but felt nothing.
Our companion confirmed rain on the water off an iced-out part of Dream
Lake and complimented RDC's powers of observation. I turned to them and
circled a finger over my crown, mouthing oh, something about a bald spot,
implying greater rain sensitivity in the affected area. They laughed,
and I ran back up to RDC and tickled him under his wings, apologizing.
It was obvious enough what I'd done and he threatened to throw me into
the lake because after all he's not actually bald anywhere. Yet. (It's
the "yet" that made the jest obvious.)
In the morning I'd turned back to the house about a quarter mile out
because I'd forgotten my fleece pants.
Boy was I happy I went back for them. It wasn't so very very cold, even
in the snow, as long as the sun was out, but I made short work of some
of the steeper sections by rolling down them. Shorts would have made that
extremely chilly.
Driving back through Estes Park, we passed a pub we'd never noticed before,
the Gaslight Pub. It can't be any fun to drink there. The bartender
puts your drink on the bar, you turn around, and the drink's gone. Or
a half-full beer is replaced with a full one. The lights, of course, are
unsteady.
On Friday
morning I got email from SEM,
who's rejoined western civilization. I responded to him Friday night,
when I had time to write (unlike the quick am check), and who called while
I was online? Right. So I emailed again Sunday (the next time I was online),
and while I was online, who called? Right.
We have to get another phone line. Or I have to spend less time online.
CLH used
to bitch that RDC was always online and she was sick of getting a busy
signal and whine whine whine (like I was never online myself). We got
voicemail, which is way cool, and she hasn't griped about that since.
When we got the cell phone, I gave her the number (with strict instructions
about its being not for our parents' knowledge) and she said she hoped
we were ashamed to be seen in public with it. More to the point, in the
course of the conversation I learned that she never knew that every time
she's left a message, it hasn't been on a machine in an empty house (like
we go out that much) but voicemail that picks up when the line's
busy--which was her original complaint. I told her I hoped she was ashamed
at how ignorant she is--hadn't she ever noticed the slight change in the
ring as the call switches?
So I posted nearly two weeks of entries and felt all connected that way,
but I missed the first two opportunities to speak with SEM since oh, last
summer. Tonight I'll call him, if that esoteric address included
a phone number.
My
sister sent me something for my birthday that never got here. Last she
knew the package was headed back toward Boston and she suspects she got
the apartment number wrong, as she has for all written communication in
the three months we've lived in the different place. Usually the office
assumes you'll figure out for yourself that you've been sent something,
but I inquired at the office enough times that they called me at home
when a package arrived. So I checked in the office after work, and indeed
the delivery address was to our previous apartment.
But what's this? Return address Amazon? Has my sister found the web?
Her SO must have access; has she used it? I am so proud!
And I ripped open the box and there lay a wrapped book and an envelope.
The envelope admonished not to ruin the surprise but to open the present
first, which goes against my grain, but I obeyed Amazon: Harry Potter
and the Chamber of Secrets. !!!!! I asked CLH for The Life and
Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. I've been reading about Harry
Potter and yes I wanted to read this, but how'd she know? I ripped open
the envelope.
I love RJH. He always
gives me the best books. He is the dearest man.
How did he know I wanted to read the Harry Potter books, if my
own sister didn't? Just because he's RJH. He's had a finger on the pulse
of my funny bone for--goodness me as I reckon up--almost ten years now.
Zounds.
And
I still have CLH's present to look forward to! Wheeee!
Folding
laundry is much more fun with Blake. He comments upon and compliments
not only the tie-dyes now but the regular t-shirts too. They're all so
pretty!
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