This is for me, but you’re welcome to come along.
Ken sits in the warm light of a floor lamp, reading. That’s my husband. Hair mussed. Intent. He brought slippers. I brought flip-flops.
The Airbnb checks the important boxes. Welcome snacks and coffee. A bouquet of red carnations. Extra towels. A drawer full of spices. Reading lights at every seat. Power strips, galore! Did I mention a drawer full of spices? Olive oil.
We wandered around CU campus one day. There are so many new buildings, I struggled to partner what I was seeing with memory.
As for geology, the Flatirons are one of Boulder’s most distinctive features. How they show up between buildings in the near distance, disappear, and then show up again is both surprising and wonderful. They’re an imposing reminder that we are, in fact, at the foothills of the Rockies.
There’s one of them below — woman in long white parka for scale.
Boulder is a dog town. Climbing the path at Chautauqua, were we the only ones without a one? Close. The climb was moderate but I was huffing and puffing. “It’s the altitude,” I asserted.
Ken scoffed, but I turned and waved at the view below us. “It’s at least 400 additional feet.”
The afternoon light at Chautauqua offered visual glory: slabs of shadow, illegible foregrounds, clouds trying to tell us something. I took a lot of pictures.
“I could die here and I wouldn’t mind.“
Husband: “Well, I’d mind. I’d have to carry you down.“
Dinner at The Boulderado. It’s an old place, a hotel. In all our years of visiting Boulder, we’d never set foot inside. From the Airbnb, it’s a 10 minute walk and in the crisp air of late December it feels good. I forgot my gloves.
I also forgot my Daily Pages, so I’m writing in an errand/reminder notebook — in between independent bookstore addresses, random passwords, instructions on how to sign in to cure ballots in Nevada. Sigh. I’m not over it. I’ll never be over it.
December 31 — breakfast at Foolish Craig’s. I ask our cute Gen Z waiter, “How are the grits here?”
“Well, my mother’s from Mississippi, so let’s just say they’re good-for-Colorado grits.”
But it turns out they’re awful with a gross tapioca-like consistency.
I’m honest with him. “I’ve been to Mississippi, Alabama, and South Carolina, and these are something, but they’re not grits.”
So now you know, I’m a grits snob. Honestly, the grits I make at home are better. A lot better.
Lest you think me unpleasant, I refused a swap out for home fries and said the delicious sandwich was gonna be enough (and it was — sausage and egg on brioche with pickled red onions — wow).
When asked what we were doing for New Year’s Eve, I tell him, “Snacks and Beyonce Bowl.”
“Nice!”
I feel seen. Partly because Ken has no idea what Beyonce Bowl is.
I’m wandering a little befuddled at times. I almost don’t recognize Boulder. Is it because we’re staying north of Pearl on 18th St. instead of on Arapahoe somewhere? Or maybe sleep deprivation is getting to me.
Or maybe it’s the overlay of an imagined city. For a couple of years, I wrote many fictional scenes set here. Contemporary scenes, set during lockdown. There’s a band of wild women who appear and disappear, all wearing orange linen tunics. They show up in the fields near Chautauqua or over by the library, and they dance. Wild ecstatic dancing. And then they melt back into the landscape. Nobody knows where they go. Nobody knows who they are, even. Maybe if we tool over to Boulder Creek and campus, the imaginal map and the real one will overlap? (Yes, they did — to my great relief).
Notes written on New Year’s Day 2025: Who goes there? What ghost? What friendly ancestor or malignant spy from the future? We have our work cut out for us. Number one, learn to run alongside the apathy and despair. Number two, stop telling yourself nothing you do matters. Number three, self-care. Number four, write.
For for instance, write about the Irish psychology of sabotage.
(Wait. Haven’t I already?)
I enter the New Year with some of the usual questions. What do we share online and why (like this endless post)? Do we spill? How much is revelation and how much curation? I’ve often thought over the years that absent social media I’d be more productive or maybe even, happier. More contained, certainly.
Hard to say. I value the visual record. I love my online friends.
Speaking of online friends, this is directed to you. Last night, I dreamt that Jude was highlighting Saskia. She’d figured out how to animate Saskia’s extraordinary inked creatures. I was amazed. “Saskia will be famous now,” I think and also feel a little jealous.
Note: Saskia tells me she has animated her work. So maybe in the dream, that’s what Jude is sharing? In any case, here’s the link:
http://www.saskiavanherwaarden.nl
As a writer in my Tuesday group invariably announces after reading: The End.
Great post Dee! Love these faces and now I think I need to go to Colorado. Artie has been there, but I have not. It looks great!
So what is the scoop on Irish psychology of sabotage? I think I need to know about this.
It’s something a psychologist friend casually announced recently. I need to find out more. I was talking about my sister and how it felt like she was trying to take me down with her.
Funny that! I think it’s a family trait! Yikes. If you learn more let me know. My therapist is gone for the foreseeable future so I have nobody to ask. Must fall under the misery loves company heading.
I’ll do a little digging.
Hey Dee, this was a fun-filled post!
And I love that you shared your dream, especially as I was in it;-)
It would be great if Jude could animate my figures, however that is rather a big ask, so I will definitely have to continue my attempts myself…….I have made a few very short ‘ moving images ‘ which are on my website http://www.saskiavanherwaarden.nl, if any of your followers are interested
Thanks for the link Saskia. I should have provided and will put one in the body later. So maybe the animation was memory and she was sharing yours? That may be a better telling. In any case in case you can’t tell, I absolutely love your work.
This was a treat to read!
(Yes, you are “seen”)
Chuckled at hubby’s comment, “I’d mind, I would have to carry you down” — ha ha!😂
And your dream!
( Yes, I’m jealous, too 😅😆)
I miss the West
It’s a whole different world out there, isn’t it? The sky so big. Different mentality.
In 1971 I spent a glorious hippie summer living in a tent right outside of Boulder. Up Canyon Road. We hitch-hiked into town once a week to do our laundry and stroll the streets. Hang out in the park filled with other hippies…..Glorious. We had very little money at the time so no eating out but showering at the campus was high on our list. Things you could never do now. I have never been back since then. It was a tumultuous time for sure. Thanks for the memory.
What a great memory! Boulder still has a bit of that outlaw/hippie vibe, but nothing like what it was back then, I’m sure.
You brought back memories of visiting my son when he went to CU. Thank you!
Thanks for reading!
Colorado is a beautiful place and I so enjoyed your photos of Boulder. Before I get into Colorado, let me say that I too know grits. First time having them was when we visited New Orleans and I had shrimp and grits. But I really got into grits when we lived in Tennessee. Our landlord turned us onto using sorghum on our grits and I am a devoted fan. We used to drive from out little home in McDonald, ( I likened living in McDonald to living in a “hollar” as the population at the time was a little over 500 people) to Delano, TN, to visit a Mennonite community who had wonderful sorghum, jams and produce for sale.
In 2017, we drove to Boulder, Colorado to meet our daughter Erika, son-in-law Adrian and grand kids Spencer and Rowena for a family vacation to Rocky Mtn National Park. They took Amtrak from CA to Colorado and after a week in Colorado, we drove drive them to our home in New Mexico for additional vacation time.In Boulder, I remember going out on a kind of mall like street with the grand kids, colorful painted pianos were dotted about the area and both kids played and I danced around the piano. We ate some great tacos from a food truck before driving to Estes Park where we spent the week at an AirB/B. Estes Park is about 5 miles from one of the entrances to the park. Just about every night, deer came into the backyard, no fences, all open, and the grand kids were thrilled. Rocky Mtn National Park was wonderful and the grands were thrilled to be making snow people in June at an elevation of over 11,000 ft.
I love getting more of your history! I’ve been to Estes Park and hiked a little ways in Rocky Mountain National Park. Talk about huffing! I remember joking with a couple from Texas. Also huffing. The mall you mention is Pearl Street and is one of the nicest parts of Boulder. That’ll show up in Part two.
Been to Colorado … seeing your pictures brought back long forgotten memories. So happy you’re having a fun time even with the bad grits.
It was a super nice visit. This time I had to acknowledge that Boulder just isn’t a food town. There is one place that got a Michelin star recently, however (don’t know if they’ve kept it), but we weren’t up for spending that kind of money.
Looks like a great time! Love the shots of clouds and mountains.
Those kids. So gorgeous.
What IS the Beyonce Bowl???? (sigh…)
I think I know what Irish sabotage is, but can’t recall you naming it “the Irish psychology of sabotage”.
oh yes. There’s grits, and then there are really scrumptious southern grits – with mix ins.
Love Saskia’s work!
Thanks for all this 🙂
Why *are* we here?
We want to get a tree swing so we can have a place to think in the trees. Really think!
A grand idea!
xx
Love the idea of a swing! Can I have one too?
Beyonce Bowl was the name given to an NFL half-time show on Christmas Day down in Houston. Beyonce sang from her album Cowboy Carter and had a huge marching band and a bunch of guest singers. It was pure spectacle and quite a bit of talent, of course. I love how she’s owning her Texan roots. Anyway it’s 13 minutes long and you can find it on YouTube or Netflix. It’s worth it just for the gorgeous rendition of Blackbird.
Thank you!!
What a great post! I, too, am interested in the psychology of Irish sabotage and await further developments. I have never had grits, so can have no opinion in that direction. Animating Saskia’s beautiful figures is a great idea/dream!!
Your photos of Boulder are very engaging. I have been there once, in the seventies, so can claim no great familiarity, but I remember the golden color of the buildings, and the dramatic Flatirons. I feel like it is part of my history because my husband was born there. His dad was attending CU after the war and they lived in a quonset hut village set up for veterans. Mike’s dad got his engineering degree and ended up working for Texaco, which is how they eventually came to the northwest. Quite a few of Mike’s relatives lived in and around Denver for a long time.
We have that in common then. Ken’s dad attended on the Xbox bill (but after the Korean War) and also got an engineering degree.
so glad to have been invited along…Beauty Full post…Thank You, grace
I had a beautiful trip here with you! Those clouds!!! Ahhh…
And so much yummy family time and Saskia in a dream and in animation – splendid!
The roller skates cracked me up. The pair almost in the middle, blue with red and white swoosh, stripe design were the ones my kids had. I can see them skating around in the garage, since we lived on a big hill!
As far as why we’re here…I think you hit the nail on the head and agree!
Nancy
That wall of skates was in a casual restaurant and was really original and slightly disconcerting.
such shiny happy people … I smile