"America Sucks"

I recently got into an argument with someone when they very quickly, in trying to be smug, spat something nasty like, "America sucks." It surely wasn't the first or the last time I'd hear such words, but something didn't sit right in the quickness of such a remark. I never thought of myself as having any national pride, but The Denver Post's photoblog reminded me how much I appreciate our history as a nation (as messy and wrong as it may be), and how often I tend to pull from Americana in my taste for music, food and thinking (within good reason). Say what you want about her, but America is nothing to scoff at. So hold your tongue, sir. I don't believe you know where you came from — surely not these fine people featured here below:

Via The Denver Post

On Home: 'I've Been Away'

So we're mentally preparing ourselves for a long drive here soon; 10 hours to Kansas City, 12 hours back if we stay in Prairie Home, MO before heading back. I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone but not cram-packing our visits. Married life and multiple sets of grandparents are tough on the holidays, but — put into perspective — are both great blessings.

We were told that the cabin would be completed by January 1st, and as my mom put it cheese-ly: we'll be "home after the holidays." I'm really looking forward to putting all my crap in a space where I can see and touch it. Over the past months I've learned that I don't need a lot to get by, but, damn, every time I go by storage and see my things it makes me feel good. I know that's sick, but to a certain degree my stuff carries a part of me that brings me comfort, no pun intended. I mean, I'm a little homesick and I've got no home — that's messed up. I can't imagine being one of the fire victims here in the Four-mile area. I hope they're getting by and that they have great blessings this holiday too. I am so lucky, and here I am whining.

I was going to post a wish list of stuipd things I'd like this Christmas and then that all seemed really petty after all I just wrote. So instead I'm just going to go to bed with my wonderful husband and two dogs listening to this song that reminds me of the Midwest and all the handsome people I'll be seeing next week.

To Harry

I miss your Country Club. I've been beside myself these past months; I don't know what do with my money, time or need for whiskey—let alone good service or cowboy etiquette. As the song goes: "If you love somebody new, let me find a new love too. Take these chains from my heart and set me free."

I'm sorry, I have no other option but make due and find another to keep me warm—with booze. This new bar doesn't hold a candle to yours, so know that and take comfort in it. To say the least, it's unforgivable for a waitress in a mountain inn to not know what a Horse Feather is. But I've put this aside—I have to take what I can get. I think you'd approve: They've got a painting on the wall that likens the Indian lady you got. They also makes ginger beer (which, I guess, is pretty worthless if you don't know what a Horse Feather is).

Full of Thanks

I missed my friends and family this Thanksgiving, but I know that — in due time — they'll all be sitting at our table with this view of the Rockies in our windows. As the sun was setting, we decided to walk off the mashed potatoes and pheasant by visiting the cabin and playing catch; This last picture is of our backyard, and when we first visited, it was full of wildflowers. Due to the wildfire and winter, it looks a little barren right now, but it'll be back with a vengeance next year — and nonetheless it's beautiful. We miss everyone so much, so we're gladly taking reservations for our cute guest bedroom (which looks out over this particular scene).

We've become accustomed to the high altitude here, so it's nice to know that it's not just the lack of oxygen that makes me all crazy for the mountains; It's really just this freaking awesome. Also, I didn't want to shoot a close-up ('cause y'all just have to wait), but the modest house in the middle, on top of the hill (second-to-last photo), is ours.

On Waiting: 'Slow Hands'

Things have progressed rather badly here. Well, that's not really true. Things have just not progressed at all. We've been in Colorado for a 1 ½ months and we still haven't moved. Something in the air has made it utterly impossible to be patient, understanding, or possess any other various virtues. Being completely displaced from everything and everyone you know, and then having no place to hang your hat is unbearable.

I don't feel like I live here; All my things are still in storage and I've racked up about 50 nights on an air mattress. My dogs are at their wit's end, and acting not unlike these dogs. Bet you can you guess who's "the helper dog" and who's the "simple" one. Thanksgiving is this week and we have no plans, which is depressing and lame, because it's the one holiday we "go all out" on, considering Sean's a cooking fiend and it's my birthday week. Christmas is right around the corner too, and we've got no place to hang stockings, wrap presents, etc.

We are moving out of Ramzy's today though, and that is nice for everyone's sanity; We have long outstayed our welcome here on The Hill. Now that we know we know for sure we are going to be out of a home for another month, we are getting temporary housing — in town, nonetheless! We called someone about a rental property, and he said that times were tough and no one's been biting, so he'd gladly oblige and let us stay for a month. Our new home town is really small too, so it will be nice to get to know one of our neighbors. Jeff's lived there for over 30 years now so he knows everyone and everything (including our next-door neighbor, the guy working on the cabin, and our landlords). He tipped us off and told us about a Sunday happy hour at the the Inn, said everyone in town goes. We're looking forward to next Sunday and getting a crash course in mountain hospitality (whatever that is).

We got tired of waiting for things to get done in the cabin, so last weekend we took matters into our own hands. We pulled carpet and started cleaning — it felt soo good. The front room actually has hardwood under the carpeting, but we were told that it's wide plank and really cold in the winter; There's a hand dug foundation underneath and it can get drafty without the carpet. I don't think we'll be able to talk them into letting us sand and finish it, so that's a real shame. But the kitchen is coming together! It's nicely-sized, and stove is the star of the show. One of the selling points, actually, when we were looking for housing in the very beginning. It looks kind of like this. The bathroom is really interesting too; Someone had money to spare and went all out by installing a Roman shower/bathtub. So there's no door, it's just this giant tiled corner of the bathroom, that actually has a step-down to form a basin/tub space. I'd take pictures of all this stuff but the cabin is not ready for the world to see it.

This has been a stupid, grueling process (waiting for the house), but sometimes the things you want in life don't come easy or quickly. It is going to be worth the wait in the end, so we can't give up, must persevere! Today is also my birthday, so with that said, things are good.

Let's lighten mood and talk about one of my favorite places here, thus far: Dot's Diner, "Where Folks Get Their Yolks." This place, though as endearing as, say, Town Topic, has a different clientele with organic goods on lock-down; Just look at the chalkboard menu. The kitchen staff are well-tattooed, the patrons are equally as interesting (see: Elvis sitting next to Ramzy), and the B&G sticks to your ribs. What more could you ask for?

The Day We Got Married

Here they are — the pictures from the wedding! Oh, but there are so many more where these came from too! Head over to my Flickr album to see the whole kit-and-caboodle. I apologize for the fact that they are out of order, but who cares! They're beautiful. Thank you so much, Austin.

I can't believe it's all over, and we've been married for a little over a month now. The planning was so much fun and I'm so glad we did things the way we did. After we were engaged, which lasted almost a year and a half, we immediately started preparing.

We bought, borrowed, and inherited various cake pedestals, table clothes, mason jars, napkins, and vintage plates. Everyone had their own little napkin, glass and plate, and that's what we really wanted: a special wedding that felt comfortable, home-cooked (which it was) and thoughtful. I couldn't have done it without my mom (who almost killed herself, worrying about every details), dad, sister, grandparents (who let us host the event on their farm in Lone Jack), friends and other just friendly people who participated in the day.

And what a day it was. First of all, it was hot as hell during the ceremony, which was held at 3 in the afternoon in direct sun. I figured, in late September, we were in the clear — but no.

Our good friend Rachel married us on that lovely heated day. And with exception of dinner, I got more compliments on the ceremony than anything else! Rachel was so amazing: she set aside time for our guests to meet other guests (because we were all one big "family" on that day), gave Sean and I an official moment to soak it all in, and spoke to everyone through the deep root that ties us all together — love. She is so wonderful.

The old-timey entertainment and dinner was fantastic. Composed of all kinds of family recipes, made by family members, with PBR, Old Overholt, tea and lemonade to wash it all down, there were zero left-overs. Everyone was enjoying their dining situation until it began to pour, lighting and thunder.

There was hesitation from the band to start playing because they we're originally supposed to play on the gazebo, but instead they moved to the front porch for a cozy and covered acoustic performance. Both my grandfathers tried to enjoy the music from a tree swing, but the wood rot got the best of them, and they were on the ground before they both knew it; They thought it was hilarious. The night's fiasco's finally ended with an explosion from the bonfire from God knows what. Then we all ran out of fuel and the night was finished with coffee and hot toddys.

I loved everything about this day. Despite all the unexpected hiccups, I was actually told "you guys are having my dream wedding." It was such a dream — I can't believe it's over now. I love Sean so much and I'm so happy everyone was there to witness it. Thanks again, everyone. You all mean so much to us.

Pie and Furry Foot, I Love You

Our landlords said it would only be a month (when we arrived here in Colorado), and God, I hope we're really only two weeks away from moving to our new quaint mountain town. We headed up the canyon for Sean's 26th birthday breakfast, because he had a hankerin' for the General Store's grub, but the secret motivation was to slip-in and see the progress on the cabin — which was none. Awesome.

Anyway, the trip was more than worth the drive regardless. Two reasons: pie and Furry Foot. So the "pie" part is pretty self explanatory. Pie is awesome and the General Store carries a fantastic variety of sweet and savory kinds. Maybe it's the fact that you can cover your pot-pie with green chili (which is like Colorado's ketchup, because it comes on everything) that makes it so good. Or maybe it's the giant wood-burning potbelly stove you sit next to eating it. Maybe the dusty saloon floor or hand-carved rockers... Dear god, who am I kidding. They're pie is just good.

Okay, but Furry Foot. Every time I go to town, I am always left mesmerized. After we ordered (our amazing pie meals), we then proceed to peruse the goods the General Store stocks for the locals and the passing-through. Past the can goods and hardware lies a basket of smudge sticks made of Sage and other dried flora. This is not surprising considering almost all grocers in Colorado stock similar products ("to cleanse the air, home, or spirit"). But what is interesting though is the small stack of paper next to the basket, describing the mix of sticks in hand-writing*:

"Sweetgass - Hierochloe Odorata: When burned, a good purifier, or burn twice a day as a thank you to everyone. Pearly Everlasting - Anaphalis Margaritacea: burning relieves headakes and is cleanser for everyone, also very good for warding off troublesome ghosts. Yarrow - Achillea Millefolium: burning will break up fevers. Red Buffalo Grass: decorative only."

That last description is priceless; After all that: "decorative only". So I'm moved — absolutely moved, and then at the bottom there's a personal note:

"I am the elder who lives in the foothills. In my garden I grow all the plants to heal everyone. Nobody sprays them with any bad poisen. I give thanks to the lives and spirit of each plant, and am grateful for my understanding. I love what I'm doing and I'm doing what I was born to do. Poet, gardener, artist – Furry Foot."

Yes — I am going to live in this town. If not for Sean's mountain-dream sake, I am going to live in this town to meet Furry Foot. Bucket list bullet added. Not to mention, the last picture here is of our new home... in 1893 when it was a gold mining community. Oh my god, I just want to move already.

*excuse Furry Foot's spelling

O You Youths, Western Youths

So we've moved away from our "bower" in Kansas City to embark on new and strange adventures in Colorado, which is nothing short of beautiful and bountiful — of white middle class! Kidding, but seriously: Boulder is a little white-washed. I'm pretty put-off by this… not to mention Boulder is a college town. I never really liked the crowd even when I was in college, and living in the thick-of-it (on "The Hill" a.k.a. Greek Town) as a young professional with a salary and bills and loans to pay, it's kind of annoying. Listen, I was annoying in college too; It has nothing to do with Colorado University's fine student body. It's just … culturally shocking.

I guess I lied a little just now; We don't actually "live" in Boulder—unless you consider sleeping on your coworker's floor "living." Sean and I are basically homeless, living out of a storage unit—but, at least we both have jobs! Right before we moved here, like the same week, a wildfire wiped out much of Boulder and Sunshine Canyon and burnt a corner of our new house. (We're lucky it didn't burn the whole town down, honestly.) Landlord's insurance is covering not only the said corner's repair, but also a full renovate. This is awesome because the last tenant had 3 dogs, a disability, and a filthy hoarding habit. What a blessing in disguise…

Don't let my ranting indicate otherwise; We are loving it here. I purchased Rocky Mountain National Park year-passes, bought an axe for Sean's rustic endeavors in the mountains, and am really enjoying the Southwestern food.

Honeymoon in San Fran

Sean couldn't stop singing this song, which wouldn't have been so bad, but he only knew the first lyric. Anyhow, we literally went to Memphis to get to San Francisco, which sounds like a cute saying for doing something ass-backwards, but it was an unfortunate reality in our case. We enjoyed Bloody Marys and Elvis impersonators in our Tennessee lay-over, and we arrived in San Francisco late that night. We caught the BART to The Good Hotel in SOMA where the concierge was less than helpful, reading online comics as a Finnish tourist needed directions to a "service station". We headed to the Mission district to find a night cap, and proceeded to drink at the first establishment where PBR seemed prominent.

Since we only had reservations for one night, the next morning we packed our sacks and headed north toward the bay. Straight down Market Street, we ended at the port and hopped a ferry to Sausalito where we dined on expensive sea fare and porters. The rest of the day was a hot blur: San Fran stayed a consistent 80-something (sometimes hotter) and we were in-and-out of food comas, beer-highs, train stations, and sweat-spells. Uncle Dan rescued us (and our poor backs) and gave a grand tour before taking us to San Juan Bautista.

We visited the mission (from Hitchcock's Vertigo), avoided the feral chickens that roam the streets, and took Highway-1 as much as possible. The vacation ended in Monterey with lots of tequila, sailing, and ruck sacks much heavier than when we started; Somehow we acquired a 10-lb bag of Masa Harina, wet. It was beautiful and there's so much more to say. California, I can never get enough.