What not to give your golden retriever for Christmas…

This is not an exclusive occurrence.  Colby is a walking orange shag carpet in serious need of raking.  Things tend to stick to him.

I let him back inside after he did his evening business.  The room smelled suddenly peculiar, actually quite awful.  Some thing was hanging off his caboose.  I sent him outside hoping the problem would shake itself loose and I went back to pretending to work on thesis stuff, but mostly goofing off with NPR’s 2012 Winter Music Preview.

He was finally welcomed back inside.  The coast seemed clear.  Straightening up the living room — more procrastination — I found some trash to pick up, sort of.  Dark brown, rope like and fuzzy.

What not to give your golden retriever for Christmas…

Rope toys are fun to retrieve

Rope toys are fun to chew on

Rope toys are also fun to eat

but not to pick up

Colby in Taos, NM. Click image for more of Colby.

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7 year itch…

I’m happy to have found someone like Heather and happier yet that she’s apparently unaware that there are several better options out there. If you spill the beans, consider your next and last meal as a brass knuckle sandwich, pal.

You are probably aware of my pursuit to join the club of the over educated. During this ordeal, I’ve had to sequester myself many times in my man cave to power through some part of this process.  Ok, so my creative “process” is probably 80% napping, supporting the Popsicle industry, and watching Netflix. After all that, um work, this last fall I victoriously waded my way through wrappers of various food-like items to declare a new paper draft ready for submission. The periscope went up to check the month and see if I still had a girlfriend. Heather says “Ooo, another paper on the ignorosphere, I mean Space Weather. That’s nice honey. By the way, we’re going to look at the houses at Steel Ranch this afternoon.” I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.

Dream neighborhood…

We have been living in a dream neighborhood for the past 5 years. Similar interests and ages, block parties, chauffeured birthday bar hoping with Dan the Van Man, animal-house-sitting during vacations, … etc.

party van to dinner for Heather's birthday

Mass exodus…

With sadness our neighbors turned friends started moving on, toward better jobs, and newer homes. The for sale signs went up and Mike and Asna’s and Dov and Ashley’s homes were sold in what would be considered record time for even a seller’s market which we are clearly not in. The neighborhood was refreshing itself. Nice new neighbors moved in, but it wasn’t quite the same. “Under contract” signs reflected the finale of an era finished and moving vans overtook fading memories.

After almost two years of scouring through zillow and realtor.com listings Heather says “I just can’t find anything in our price range that’s worth upgrading to from what we currently have.” It’s worth noting that our requirements were:

• Louisville or Boulder
• On the RTD bus line
• 3 bedrooms with main floor bathroom
• Big ass garage for Rob’s tinkering and toys
• Kitchen with island and lots of countertop

So off to Steel Ranch we went; I pessimistic and Heather full bore. She innately knew something I didn’t. Houses are just places to store crap. Communities are the petri dishes of bond forming lifelong memories and it turned out we knew quite a few people moving to Steel Ranch including Mike and Asna and Jason and Andrea. Within one week we’d decided on lot #6 – a north side home on a curve with a mountain view and far enough from Louisville’s train track. Yes, Rob counted strides to the train, measured the garage and scouted the climbing route to the upstairs – you know, the important stuff.

Lot #6, just like monopoly

The house market gods smiled as we rode the coattails of W. Sumac Ct’s momentary popularity and sold our house to a nice young couple from Boulder. We must credit the efforts of our former neighbors and their value boosting comps and most importantly my cousin Becky for her priceless realtor knowledge. If you want a no B.S. realtor who doesn’t drive a Jaguar, then head on over to Becky Crockett.

Foundations of a new era…

Watching, no, experiencing the construction of Steel Ranch has been rewarding. So long as you wear a hard hat, you are welcome to climb, crawl, spy, envision any home site any time. Yes, I’ve figured out where our pool table, climbing wall and fire pole will go.

Day 0, empty slate

Day 20, pile of dirt

pile of dirt

Day 40, foundation forms installed

foundation forms

Day 50, foundation completed

West view

drainage

You can keep up to date with all posted pictures using this RSS or by frequenting the main Treece construction photo site.

Thanks for reading.  See you on the north side.

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Epicurious

Can you believe we’ve been together for 7 years now?  We’ve truly racked up an impressive number of good times.  Today was no slouch.  After putting up with my degree pursuit and other shenanigans (e.g. dead mouse) for another year, it’s safe to say I more than owed you a cooked meal to start things out right.  These spiced pumpkin pancakes were awesome!  While, I still don’t know what “fold the egg whites into batter” means, it seems breakfast didn’t suffer from my ignorance.

After indulging and loading the GPS with route info we pointed our gas hog toward Rocky Mountain National Park for some good old backcountry fun – Lake Haiyaha to be clear.  Ok, so the skiing kind of sucked and you managed without snow shoes, but it’s safe to say the snacks were dee-lish and the crowd-free trail, blue sky, warm sun, and crisp mountain views were pretty rockin’.  I think I hit more rocks than turns made.

Lenticular - winds are a'comin'

Signpost

Otis Peak and Thatchtop

Dinner at Ahi’s

For anyone interested, the “first bite” program is a great way to exchange some dough for a multi-course wine paired meal that generally doesn’t disappoint — so long as your left brain  is too mellowed out by the 3rd glass of wine to criticize the lofty bill. I guess when you’ve been with someone a long time you might start thinking like them, dressing like them, etc.  We both ordered the exact same 3.5 course meal: scallops ceviche, cabbage with tangy sauce, tamales, then Mexican donuts and chipotle ice cream to finish.  I’ll skip the chipotle next time… the rest was superb!

Warren Miller Anyone?

Powder Trip Finalist…

Now generally, I wouldn’t recommend taking your s.o. to a testosterone enflamed ski porn movie on your anniversary.  Well, not unless you’re me and your s.o. is Heather apparently. H, have I said thanks enough times for putting up with my shenanigans?  Probably not.  I guess “I owe you owe you owe you…”  And if you win that fabulous trip to ski fresh pow in Canada via helicopter, then we’ll have to work out some sort of amortization schedule. With only a thin veil of pity, I’ll say I’m sorry for convincing you to run up to the stage to claim your finalist prize.  Seriously, at least three of us thought you won a new jacket.

PBR sells out

Seriously, it does, especially at the Sundown Saloon (aka Sundowner).  This place is oozing character and by oozing, I mean it pretty much smells like B.O., vomit and other things better left unnamed.  However, it’s a pretty darn good way to end a day like today.  Oh, and they do have other bevs on tap these days.  I promise.

Pancake breakfasts

In summary, thanks for being the most amazing partner I could imagine!  Some day, I’ll do as many nice things for you as you do for me and in good faith to that aim, you can anticipate more regular pancake breakfasts.

Addendum from Heather:

First of all — Rob forgot our anniversary a week prior when he accepted an extra ticket to our friend’s guys night Warren Miller show (ski porn). He tried to slide out of it gracefully a couple of days later by admitting his folly to our friend while I’m in the same room. The friend realized that Rob’s in a bad spot (his eyes darting to me and back to Rob over and over), but really wants to get rid of this ticket so offers to include me too in this evening of boy-ness. He warns me that it could ‘get pretty rowdy’ but that we could leave at any time. Thankfully, Rob and I planned a full day of fun and food beforehand, so I didn’t mind hanging out with a bunch of dudes at WM late in the evening.

We arrive at Walnut Brewery, where the dudes were convening beforehand. We walk over to our friend’s large table of guys… and I think to myself, hmm not so bad – they seemed welcoming. Then he gestures to the *2nd* table of guys and in horror I realize that I’m one girl for 20 guys, and therefore I’ve completely crashed their guy night. Holy Cannoli (good thing I didn’t say that). Like before, all the guys eyes dart from me to Rob and back when he admits that it’s our anniversary. “Ohhh, well Happy Anniv!” – yeah, Rob’s either a hero or a dumbass to these guys.

That’s not the embarrassing part – it was just funny as hell. That part is coming next.

So we march over to Boulder Theater, the site of many outdoor-themed movies that I attend each year (this has relevance to what’s going to happen). A perk with hanging out with a bunch of dudes is that they tend to hand you drinks without asking, so by intermission I had downed a glass or two of wine at dinner, a beer at Walnut, and another brew (I think it was one) at the Theater. I was on the edge of being seriously intoxicated — you know when  you’re kinda spaced out (you can’t remember what you were doing 10 sec prior) but all the motor functions are still working (i.e., talking, walking, etc). That’s me.

Rob is standing in the aisle, a handful of seats away, slugging more alcohol than I’ve witnessed him do in awhile (he’s not a big drinker). I can’t remember what I’m doing at that moment (it’s intermission), but I wasn’t really paying attention to much of anything, when,  I hear the first part and my spacey brain instantly registers that I have to do something and quickly. Over the microphone I hear “Heather…. <big pause> …. Mc…. <another pause, and this is when my brain registers that it has to be me> Coool, wait, no, Mc..Cowl-a?”. Two well known skiers (to a ski crowd, that is — I can’t remember their names (not Lindsay Vonn or anyone that famous)) are onstage, successfully hacking away at my last name and also giving away raffle prizes.

…Before I continue it’s important to note that during every outdoor-themed movie event (Banff film fest, WM, etc.) there are raffles and there are prizes – good prizes. When your name is announced, you must react swiftly by making yourself known or else your prize will be given to someone else  and it all occurs over a matter of seconds. This happens ALL THE TIME…

So I hear my name, I glance over at Rob who is smiling but not exceptionally excited. I proceed to jump up, scream (a whoo-hoo kind of scream, not the girly kind), and start to push my way through the aisle and run up to the stage (this is the well accepted and most appropriate method). I run (I don’t actually run – you all know that I don’t RUN – maybe more like skip) up to the stage, and the two unnamed ski celebrities are just curiously watching me, clearly bewildered. My stomach start to knot up when I see their faces – uh oh. Then the guy (I know his first name is Chris and he always wears that stupid visor to shadow his face so we don’t all figure out how old he truly is) turns to the audience. This is where I don’t remember as much as I would if I had been sober (thankfully). He snorts a laugh or two and says “well, everyone, this is Heather.” I wave, I think. I may have given a thumbs up (oh I really hope I didn’t, but I think I did).  He then turns to me and says “You’re only a *FINALIST* so I’m not really sure why you’re up here.”  Oh…. no…. I turn to the fully packed Boulder Theater and proceed to scurry back to my seat. I think people were clapping. Some smirking-sympathetic looking girl gives me a low-five on the way up the stairs (I’m thankful I didn’t trip – my usual behavior).

The odd thing is that I don’t think that many or any of the guys were paying attention to what really happened. They all seemed to think that I won a coat. That’s good.

So now I’m a finalist for a spectacular heli-ski trip that I will never go on (since I don’t ski, of course– and I definitely don’t snowshoe from atop very large and steep mountains — more on heliskiing). And I got to embarrass myself a little to boot. It was a memorable anniversary that I will never forget!

Hx

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