Yesterday, I was a Liar.

I went and got all bloggy about how we are here and it is official and blah de blah but I completely jumped the gun, folks. I forgot The Most Defining Factor in all this relocating: Neil's playoff beard!

The Playoff Beard, or Neil's at least, began months ago. The original deal was that he would shave it when we closed on 1475. It became a monster, really. He looked very religious. He looked a bit overzealous. He also looked like he was ready to drink any Kool-Aid that was passed his way.

There was a small attempt at management, once. He went to a barber who trimmed the beard up pretty nice but botched up the haircut in such a way that I think my career is pretty much secure. It's clippers with a guard, barber guy. are you drunk? is it that you aren't drunk? what gives? cos it's beyond me.

so the hair....all of the hair....it grew. and it grew past the close date in SF. Then it grew past the close date in Denver. but today we found the clippers as we unpacked and i am happy to announce that i now recognize the guy i married almost one whole year ago.

join me for a photographic account of the metamorphosis, won't you?

before:
and i helped!




gross!
grosser!

then we took it outside for my turn to have at it.
this is my interpretation of the Caesar:

but more importantly, this in my interpretation of Neil's dome:
he looks good, huh? it's good to have him back.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Seriously:
Okay. We moved. We moved to Denver after....get this...2 years (?!) of planning to do such a thing. I know we have been in the actual town for almost 2 months but as of 4 pm last night, not only are we in the actual town, but we are here in the house that we own *with* all of our belongings, as well.

After having our stuff stored by PODS for 3 months, we were beyond ecstatic to see the PodZilla show up yesterday for the drop off. If you ever get the chance to watch a PODS pick up or drop off, pull up a chair and get ready for some deluxe entertainment. It's science people, and it's awesome. Anyways, about forks: At the time, back in SF, it seemed like a good idea to store all of our silverware but 2 sets. We are two people who only use one fork at a time, each. Why would we need more than 2? because we are dumb, is why. 2 forks? who does that? What if you lose one? What if one gets all crusted with egg and needs to soak but you forgot and now it is dinner? Then Neil gets to eat spaghetti with a spoon, is what. awesome.

So i was all ready to open the POD and get all functional with forks and our dining room table and our Cuisinarte (thanks, Bhores!). Clothes! My Kerastase hair conditioner! Our bed! So many things! But dig this: I knew I was home when i saw Neil unload this beautiful Asian chest of Carole Kramer's, that Corina was unbelievably kind enough to put under my care. Then i saw the plant stand of Mom's that I wrestled with the thought of making room for. I decided that it wasn't a high priority item. I was wrong and Neil knew it and there it was! This really is our home! ugh, as if i don't cry enough already. thanks, neil. no seriously, thank you with all of my heart. you are sneaky in the best way i know.

We are tired. We are about half way done unpacking. The dogs have no idea what could possibly be happening *this time*. Remember, we first put everything into storage and moved into the basement (now a beautiful man cave) in SF. Then we drove for 2 days and moved into the oven, i mean Rental. Then we moved here and Then our stuff showed up a few days later.

Moose never knew Stella but he's digging her blanket crocheting compulsion. And he's color blind, which helps. i mean, Thank G-ma for all the blankies! Pink and gray is my favorite!

click on this and look at that Teeny Tilders Tongue poking out. How tired does a person need to be to ...wait....she's a dog. but still! she's tired! and way cuter than any human when she sleeps.

Can we go outside?

yes!

the back of our house:

the garage, the beard (i think he secretly loves it. it's still here, isn't it? i'm just sayin'),
and the pups.

oh yes, a hammock in the shade:

once we unpack, i'll share pics of the inside. There are some grand painting plans for this week that may or may not involve an incredibly dramatic chocolate colored wall AND a red fireplace (but not on the chocolate wall! heavens no!). oh i know...it's all too exciting for one blog post. spread it out! leave 'em hangin'! oh geeze. i need a nap. and if that nap could last 12 hours, that would be pretty rad.

slipping through the cracks, still

okay, i am average. i've come to accept it. brown hair, brown eyes. 5 foot 4. 34b and 7.5. i'd mention my weight but i am not insane. anyways, on these levels, i am totally willing to admit that i am average. apparently, i am also forced to admit that i am utterly forgettable. what other reason is there for my chronic case of "slipping through the cracks-itis"?

i can't say when it started but i can certainly list its high points. why is it that not one single member of the Tam High faculty ever noticed that i kind of never went to class? Why is it that no authority figure (back when i needed such a thing) ever noticed my glazed over eyeballs? Why is it that I never had to do community service for the moving violation i got which declared such punishment? and my favorite: why was i attending night beauty school for 9 months when all the while they had me in an "inactive" file? sometimes, whether i am in the room or not, i am truly not there. all of you philosophy folks can get busy on that and let me know what you come up with.

have you ever bought or sold a house? it is stressful. add all of my emotional baggage And the fact that this in Neil's first dive into real estate and you have a recipe for some deluxe sleepless nights...(for me, at least). But the one thing that makes it all okay is that when you are in the midst of such madness, there are people who Are Employed only to keep you safe. One is your real estate agent (bay area people please contact Shanis Nelson at Pacific Union for all of your RE needs. She is stellar). The other is (or should be) the Title Company Person.

Here is where my chronic "itis" comes into play. Let's say you had an amount of money that needed to move from one party to the other. Let's also say that this amount is a lot. A LOT. Let's say that the person in charge of this is called the......i don't know....let me get creative...Title F-ing Company Person?
Here is a short list of exceptionally wrong things i have heard from TFCP, on the phone and in person:

• Why are you here?
• who are you?
  
• what's the property?
• i don't have the documents.
  
• I *think* I sent the wire transfer info.
  
• i can't follow up on the wire transfer because i don't have his number and i deleted his email.
• i don't know.
• i don't know.
• i don't know.

so, to summarize, i did it again. i slipped through the cracks. But this time, i did not get the benefit of a clean record by the Oakland Police or some free time to smoke cigarettes in Meade Theatre. I almost got totally f-ed. and so did Neil. maybe it's contagious? It shouldn't be. Neil is tall. He has green eyes. and he can draw. can't he carry both of us? we'll find out tomorrow at 2pm when we show up at TFCP's office to Close The Deal.

But what about our rental? won't we miss it so? i'll make a list and we'll find out.
Things I Will Miss About The Rental On Lowell:

• since nobody ever painted the trim to begin with, and the trim was coming off the walls already, it didn't really phase me when the cat puked on it. that was kinda cool.
  
• it was almost fun when we took TSP to the walls. i would say the color change was something along the lines of "chocolate to cream". smokers are gross and stinky (what?!).
• our neighbors probably had no idea that they were potentially luring their beloved squirrels to their deaths when they fed them on our common fence. maybe they have dogs that like to snuggle with squirrels. ours would rather eat them. I see how there would be confusion there.
  
• having no AC builds character. if you don't believe me, ask your grandpa. and make sure you ask him when it's over 100 degrees outside.
• neighbors with explosives!
• did you hear? neighbors with explosives!
• oh, you are deaf because of your neighbors with explosives. i understand.
  

needless to say, we are ready to move tomorrow. we are hoping that everyone has done what they should have. the funny thing is that if Anyone was supposed to F everything up, it should have been us! But all we are guilty of is being utterly forgettable. (except for the green eyes and tallness and drawing. i married that shit! it's mine! i own it! remember me?!)

Tour Guide Shane deserves a raise

Sunday was a good one. Shane, Hanzee, Neil and I went on a little ghost town adventure. We headed out to Russell Gulch, CO, an old mining town that now, oddly enough, only boasts a frisbee golf course. Seems like a logical progression, no?

Okay, here's a tip: When someone says we will be taking a road named "Oh My God Road", ask if there is an alternate route. It is named as such for a reason. theoretically, 2 cars *could* pass each other on this twisty, gravelly, no guardrail having road. But one of them might lose a side view mirror. Better to lose a mirror than to tumble down the side of the cliff, though. I grew up in MV. I can drive over The Mountain pretty fearlessly. But this was just wrong. I never looked over the side and i leaned away from the drop at all times. I was truly scared and i think i mentioned Valium at least 4 times....sweaty, shakey, no good no fun scared.

leaning towards high land whilst ignoring "the view":

our trusty vehicle on a wider road:

we began our tour of RG at the cemetery. well, first we found this right outside the gate:
maybe there is a better place for an outdoor toilet? I'm just saying.

moving on....The ground is full of quartz and was full of gold. It sparkles. wildflowers pepper the graves. Most of the graves were from the mid 1800s. Lots of children who never made it past 4 years old are buried there. A few families. Some of the graves had plastic flowers as decorations. Some didn't even have headstones anymore. There was one grave where someone had been buried in the 1990's. I wonder if they were one of the few who still lived in the area, or if the choice to be buried there was some kind of version of "coming home". It's a beautiful place. No sterile lawns and groundskeepers. Just nature and memories. well, and that toilet.

These were carved in the 1920's:

We wandered around and found some old mines and a house that was clearly occupied by the Manson Family at some point.

Yes, this is a sign that says "Glory Hole Gold Mine".
Really? You find gold in glory holes? i had always heard differently.

It was a good day.

Side Note: Neil is 2 days away from being able to say goodbye to the playoff beard. We close on SF house on Wednesday. He is ready to say goodbye to the house And the beard and all of the "bear" jokes... we both are, really.

"What are you looking at Tilders?"
Eek!

Denver votes "no" on iceberg lettuce

but it votes "yes" on doing everything but dousing your home in gasoline and throwing a match on it for good luck on the 4th of July.

so the lettuce thing: i have yet to find a side salad that has one single piece of iceberg lettuce. whether i am at an actual restaurant, a brewery, or ordering a pizza at home; spring mix it is! it's The Tan and Skinnies....they rule here. They ride their bikes when it is 90 degrees and they take their dogs to the coffee shops and they like pecans and cranberries in their salads. in turn, i am forced to kind of love The Tan and Skinnies. and i thank them for their lettuce-y preferences.

you know, San Francisco totes itself as something of a food mecca. but i am realizing that this only applies to a certain class of folk. to clarify, if you go to the actual restaurant called Mecca, it's organic applewood smoked heirloom loveliness. but if you are looking to get out for under $40 a pop, it's hello lard soaked iceberg e-coli mojado hot dogs a few blocks down.

Here, you can get out for under $20, easy.... hello, Denver Tan and Skinnies. I like your foods here and i plan to eat them at your incredibly affordable prices for as long as i can.

so, 4th of July. who cares? apparently, every f-ing pyro within sates limits. Denver is hot. Denver is dry. it's been in the 90's for at least a week with no dreamy T-storms to counter it. There's been the steady "pop pop" of firecrackers going all week. Late Thursday night, our "babies having babies neighbors" that live two doors down pushed their young wheelchair ridden child out into the street with their other two toddlers. Beers in hand, they lit off something that i can only call "an explosive". i turned 85 years old instantly and was livid at so many aspects of the situation. i promised myself and neil that i would only call the cops if they did it again. they didn't. apparently, once you lose your hearing from one explosion, you don't need to blow anything else up.


so for the actual holiday, we went to J and Noelle's for a bbq. it was in the high 90's. we hid under a tent and had a kiddy pool that was just for adult feet. we had a grill-off and my shrimp were pretty rad. we played Catch Phrase. Some people just aren't made for Catch Phrase.

Then the fireworks came....you know how when your teenage neighbors set off fireworks, you kind of mock them internally because the actual firework is so lame compared to the good professional stuff? well have your teenagers talk to these teenagers because the crap we saw going off last night from peoples' yards was insane. not safe. really pretty. lock your dogs up and good luck with that sleeping you planned on doing.

cut to 2am. fireworks right outside our window. still at least 90 degrees in the house. dogs barking. me bitching. neil slumbering away. oh he is so lucky i love him so much. so are the dogs. so is denver.

so still with the steady "pop pop" of firecrackers. but i haven't actually ducked for cover tonight so we are clearly off to a good start. i am exhausted, to put it mildly. and i am kind of scared for what christmas will bring. exploding elves? flaming santa hats? we'll see.

What did you do on your 9th birthday?

Matilda did this!:







She loooooves the sprinkler. i had dreams of preserving the lawns here at our lovely rental. The dreams died. Now our sprinkler is nothing but the raddest interactive dog toy evah. what can you do? the correct answer is "nothing".
So Matilda is nine years old today. or at least this is the birth date that was given to her when she was adopted. look at this radness!

Sooooo....9 years means i can no longer blame matilda's remaining bad habits on my mom's loose grasp on dog training. mom had matilda for 4+ years and now so have i. let's review! That barking crap she does? it's my fault now. The fact that Matilda still thinks she is a lap dog? that's Neil's fault! Okay, it's my fault, too. there has definitely been progress, as well. but i can't take credit for that, either. mostly it is just that Moose has mellowed her out. have you been mellowed out by moose yet? it looks like this:
he's one cozy mother f-er.


so, happy birthday matilda. you are a very good dog.

some more cool pics taken by our resident photographer:

rainbows:
clouds:
lightning!: