Garden

Official gardening season has begun, as it always does in Denver, on Mother’s Day. The primary reason is that usually, but not always, we are past the very cold days of winter. The second is that the Denver Botanic Gardens Spring Plant Sale is Mother’s Day weekend. I, and many other people, go every year and buy lots of plants. Then we are forced to become gardeners for the next week as we struggle to put them in the ground before they can die in their little pots on our back porches. 

Every year I swear I will show self-control and only buy what is on my list. Every year I enter the Gardens and all my good intentions evaporate. I suppose this wouldn’t happen so quickly if I actually took the time to write down my list. Or if I actually sat for five minutes and really thought about what I needed and did not need. But the Garden Sale begs for you to enter and explore and discover and how do you do that if you limit yourself to what can be listed on a piece of paper?

The Botanic Garden has introduced me to some of my favorite plants. The first year I went with my cousin, Christine, we came across a plant, Nicotiana sylvestris (flowering tobacco), which we had to buy because her maiden name and my mother’s maiden name is Sylvestre.  Also, we both had space to fill and it grows big, but mostly the name was irresistible. And so I planted it in my back yard and it grew and grew and grew. The plants grow between four and five feet high and several feet wide. The leaves are big and they have white tubular flowers. Best of all, it seems to not care very much about soil quality. Another favorite is the gazania, which is from S. Africa and is low growing with daisy-like flowers. I love the name and it is drought tolerant. 

Of course, there have been problem plants. I could not resist the adorable little plant with the pretty serrated leaves. The tag said it would grow up and have yellow flowers and it wasn’t finicky about where it was planted. I convinced Christine to buy some, too. I put it in my yard and it immediately attempted a hostile takeover of the flower bed. Not to name names here, but it was tansy. I’m pretty sure the reason Christine and her family went to live on a boat for a year was to escape it. Consider yourself warned.

For the first time this year I did not go to the garden sale. It felt very odd, like I had missed an important holiday, but I  have managed to survive. It helps that Christine did not go either. Christine has the excuse that she had classes to attend. I was busy at the barn and it just seemed a bit much this year to fit it in. On top of that, Laurence and I swear that we will be having the backyard redone, but, of course, we can’t really agree on what, exactly, needs doing. So, I think I am sticking with some vegetables and annuals this year. 

Despite not attending the sale, I still feel that the season is upon me and I have begun cleaning out my beds. A job that would be much easier if I had just done some of it last fall. So far, everything seems to be taking longer than it should and at this rate I’ll be lucky to be planting in August. Thank goodness for the perennials, they cover a multitude of ills and bad planning. 

Since the sun is still shining I think I will head outside and pull more dead leaves and debris out of the garden. Mostly though, I think I will just enjoy the fine weather.

(If you would like to read about Christine and her family's adventures the year they lived on a catamaran you can order the book her husband wrote, "Skirting the Shore," by Adrian Martin, on Amazon.)

Books and Movies

Since the last week was so horrific I have decided to completely ignore it and instead share some things that have made me happy in the last few weeks.

First, of course, would be my awesome new Tesla. I still love that car. I love driving it, I love the color, I love the endearing way the door handles ease out as you approach the car. I particularly love the feature that updates the car over the internet. You go to bed one night and the next morning there is a message on the computer screen that you can now set the car to start charging at a particular time. Good for those who have lower electricity rates at two in the morning. (Denver does not.) And, not mentioned in the message, but found out over the next few days, when you save your seat position it now includes the side mirrors!  Yay! No more Laurence messing up my mirrors! Our marriage is saved!

Michael Pollan has a new book out, “Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation.”  Just saw him on the Colbert Report and the main message of his book seems to be not to worry about what you eat as long as you cook it yourself. (The example he gives is french fries. Not good for you, but easy to order in a restaurant. Now if you cook at home, how often do you make fries?) This easy rule comes as a great relief because his previous book espoused the message, “Eat food, mostly plants, not too much,” which seemed a bit difficult to follow.

I am a big fan of Mr. Pollan’s ever since I read his book, “Botany of Desire: A Plant’s-Eye View of the World.” He discusses apples, tulips, potatoes and marijuana. My favorite thing I learned from this book was that if you plant apple seeds, none of the trees will be the same. You cannot plant seeds from a Macintosh and get a tree that produces Macintoshes. You will get all kinds of different apples, most of which will not taste very good. All of our apples come from grafts. It is a wondrous thing to contemplate. 

Another of my favorite authors has a book out.  Mary Roach has just published, “Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal.” I have just started it, but already I am hooked. So far she has covered saliva (amazingly we have two types and she covers both!), the stomach fistula of one Alexis St. Martin, and the crunchiness of food (including fruits and snacks.) Along the way she points out that people who have a disorder or injury that will not allow their voice box to move so that they can swallow would rather have it removed and be mute than not be able to eat properly. She also gives advice on that age old question: If you had to be swallowed whole by an animal, which animal would you choose? I do not think I am giving too much away when I tell you that she recommends picking the penguin. Truly, I cannot wait to head into the intestinal tract. 

      Anyone familiar with Ms. Roach will no doubt have read her book, “Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers.” This book is a must read if you have any ambitions at all regarding your life after death. Always wanted to go to med school? Volunteer as an anatomical teaching aid. Car safety your thing? You can go to work as a crash test dummy. Law enforcement? The FBI is always looking for a few good men to study decomposition. The mind boggles at the career opportunities.

      And last, I have a movie recommendation. We rented “28 Days Later,” I loved it. Of course, I do enjoy a good zombie movie so if you do not like zombies, I think you should probably rent “Groundhog Day” instead. As to “28 Days Later” it starts out with animal liberationists in England liberating the wrong animals, in this case rage and virus filled chimps. One bite and twenty seconds later (no kidding, it is very specific) people become homicidal zombies who run way faster than the traditional shuffle we have come to expect. This makes them scarier, but luckily, they still succumb to repeated blows to the head. This is particularly good news for the Brits because they lack any good access to guns. The movie follows the trials and tribulations of four of the survivors, one of whom awakens from a coma in a deserted hospital with no knowledge of the epidemic. It was directed by Danny Boyle of “Slumdog MIllionaire” fame and I’ll admit we watched it because we are probably going to go see his new movie “Trance” at some point and just felt like watching a Danny Boyle movie. So, if you like post-apocalyptic zombie movies watch it. If you don’t, watch “Groundhog Day.”

Tesla: Early Days

Leaving the Service Center

 I have just finished wiping down my new Tesla. Earlier I hosed it down to get the dirt off it because I had to drive it in the snow on Monday (which was supposed to be sixty degrees and sunny) and the mud on Tuesday (because the damn snow melted.) Then Laurence took it out  and said it looked worse with all the water spots on it, so I grabbed my new car washing spray that I had previously purchased and went to work. It looks much better now but not as great as if I had hand washed it.

This is not good. I am not one to regularly clean my car (although I keep vowing to, I don't really mean it.) My van would go months before I'd drag it to the car wash and run it through the express wash. I think of cleaning my car as a chore unless it is a hundred degrees outside and a water fight is involved. Somehow, though, with this car I feel compelled to do it. I am not sure I enjoy doing it, but it feels wrong to let it sit in the garage all dirty.

Part of the reason I want it clean is because people notice this car. This is not a complaint, everyone loves to hear how cool and lovely their baby is and I am no different. The point is when someone notices your baby and she has jelly on her face and a dirty diaper you feel like a bad parent (even though she was spotless and smelled great not five minutes before, I swear!) So I cleaned my car.

Now it's not like I did not know people would notice the car. I did. I read the Tesla forum and the owners comment on this all the time, I just thought that they were, perhaps, just a bit, exaggerating. For the record, they were not. It is ridiculous the amount of attention the Tesla gets.

A sampling:

Half a block from the service center, where I had just picked up my brand new car, I stopped at a red light. A man in the passenger seat of an SUV rolled down his window and motioned me to do the same. He wanted to know what kind of a car it is and told me, "It is a beast!" (Which it is.)

At the grocery store a man came up to me in the check out line and asked if I liked my new car and how did it drive? (This was a bit embarrassing because I had parked it on the far side of the lot and, because I wasn't used to it yet, had kind of slammed on the brakes and parked it at a weird angle.)

Driving with my windows down a guy stuck his head out the window and yelled, "Nice car!"

Another time at the grocery store Laurence and I were in the car, about to pull out, when a pickup truck drove by and the driver took a picture of the car.

Driving down the road a young man with a beard and tattoos driving an old beat up car pulled up even with me, got my attention, and gave me a big grin and a thumbs up.

Waiting to pick up Stephen from school four young teenagers told me how cool my car is. Of course, I let them sit in the car and showed them some of its tricks.

At the car shop to buy some mats for the car the clerk asked me what kind of car I have and when I told him I had a Tesla, two of the three on duty clerks immediately left the store to check out the car.

An older man and woman in a car next to me turned their heads as they drove by to look at the car. I was afraid he was going to drive off the road.

I have owned this car for only twelve days.

Luckily, I have enjoyed showing people my car and answering questions. I just hope I become immune to the attention and don't feel bad about not washing the car. Now excuse me, I have to go put on nice clothes and fix my hair so I can drive my Tesla to the grocery store.

A Very Good Day

While at the barn today Laurence called to tell me Tesla had contacted him about the delivery of my new car! (I really am not an exclamation point kind of person, but it really really needed one.) I handled it pretty well, I screamed at my friends, Tracy and Devon, "MY CAR IS HERE!"  (Several weeks ago when I went onto my Tesla account and saw the scheduled delivery window I could barely breathe. So, you know, improvement.)  Luckily, the horse Devon had turned loose in the arena did not seem bothered by the outburst.

My lovely (that adjective is directed at you, Laurence) green Model S has left Fremont, California, the only home it has ever known, on a truck heading for Colorado. It will arrive this week and I get to pick it up on Friday afternoon. I'm not sure I will be sleeping between now and then. I have calculated the hours until the appointment (65 hrs and 45 min) but that cannot possibly be right. It feels much longer than that. 

The only drawback is that our outlet for the car has not been installed in the garage yet. I can plug it into the regular outlet with an adapter so it isn't a huge problem. Unfortunately, I will have to back my brand new scratch free perfect Tesla into the garage. (The outlet is on the back wall and you plug the cord into the back of the car.) Maybe Laurence will back it in for me. Of course, then I run the risk of never getting to drive my car again. I've been on the Tesla Forum. You would not believe how many people have begged their spouses to try the car just once and then regretted it because now they have to share. I'm sure Laurence will give it back, I think. Perhaps I'll just practice backing the van in. I have nothing else to do till Friday.

Meanwhile, back at the barn, I had a horse to saddle and a riding lesson with Devon. Poor Raymond, the horse, I'm sure he thinks he is going to be forgotten once I get my new car, which will not happen. (Although, I do have to admit, I did toy with the idea of changing his show name to Tesla, but since he does not accelerate nearly as well I dropped it. Tracy did point out that he probably jumps higher than the car can, so that's a point for Ray.) I got Ray and myself all ready and then went into the arena (which is indoors) and started warming up. 

My lucky day continued. Instead of working on transitions or jumping or whatever else we always do,  Devon saddled up Dot the school horse and we went outside to ride in the snow. We had had a big storm on Sunday so there was lots of snow on the ground plus it was snowing again. We went into the little field next to the outdoor arena.  I have never ridden in the snow before and in my mind's eye I kept seeing the Budweiser commercial with the Clydesdales galloping through the snowy field. We were much less spectacular. Ray was his usual self and simply lifted his feet high to step calmly over the snow. No high spirits or beautiful slow motion running for us. We did trot a bit and I was just getting up my nerve to canter when Devon mentioned she'd seen a horse hop through the snow like a big dog once so I figured trotting might be good enough. As it was after about half an hour I could feel Ray's gait change from nice high steps to more of a trudging sensation. Devon and I called it quits and took the horses back in. Ray, after being unsaddled and brushed, was delighted to find more hay had been added to his stall in his absence and I left him contentedly chewing away.  

Then I had lunch, ran some errands, returned home and now I am just waiting...

64 hours and 45 minutes to go.

Tesla

Nikola Tesla was born in Serbia, moved to America, invented and promoted alternating current, became a nemesis of Thomas Edison.

Elon Musk was born in S. Africa, moved to America, co-founded PayPal (made a fortune), co-founded SpaceX (sounds like what it is, develops space vehicles, currently making runs to and from the Space Station), co-founded Tesla Motors (named after Nikola, see above.)

Tesla Motors, based in Palo Alto, California, designs, manufactures, and sells electric cars. So far they have produced a roadster and a sedan (Model S) and will be starting deliveries in 2014 of an SUV (Model X.) They are not a subsidiary of another car company, they are a brand new company. Tesla is not the model name, it is like Ford or Honda. (I may be over-explaining here, but people aren't really sure what I mean when I say Tesla. After all, when was the last time there was a new car company that wasn't from Asia? Never mind, just googled American automobile manufacturers, at least eleven have been started since 2000. Apparently I am just not in the know.

The point of all this, though, is that Tesla cars exist and I will be getting one!! And it will be dark green, for those of you who care about such things.

Laurence put down a deposit before Christmas (as a gift) so that I could test drive one, which I did in early January. Now, unlike other car manufacturers, Tesla does not have a lot of dealerships. They have one  in Palo Alto. In Colorado their equivalent is a storefront inside (yes, inside, near Stride Rite and the food court) the Park Meadows Mall. They have a white Tesla Model S sitting there plugged in. To test drive you go out into the parking lot and in the covered area there is a charging station and a silver Model S plugged in and ready to go. Of course it was the performance version (I will be getting the regular model) and can go from 0-60 mph in 4.4 seconds. (The regular model does it in 5.6 seconds. I do wonder if I might need that extra 1.2 seconds one day, but Laurence is fairly emphatic that I won't. Sigh.) It is an amazing car. Quick and nimble. I fell in love with it, despite Laurence heckling me from the back seat, and I quote, "Oh my God! You're driving one of the fastest sedans in America at 30 mph!" In my defense, we were on regular roads and I was driving someone else's car. Highway driving was crowded and moving at 50 mph so what did he expect me to do? Of course the person from Tesla was also urging me to go faster, so maybe Laurence had a point.

Anyway, even at 30 mph it's a fun car. And, with the back seats folded down it has enough room for my horse show trunk. And with a 300 mile range I can make it up to Estes Park (for the big show) and back. And when you approach the car with fob in hand the door handles, which have been retracted for aerodynamic reasons, slide out. And when you open the hood it is just like a Volkswagon Bug, no engine! Just trunk space. See? Even when not moving the car is fun.

So after driving the car and loving it and tallying up the pros and cons and adding in a healthy dose of why not? I opted to get one. Of course, nothing in this world is straight forward. I had to configure my car. This entailed a trip back to the mall to talk to the ever helpful Tesla personnel and figure out if I needed the bigger battery (yes, major range anxiety here) or the Active Air Suspension (again yes, you push a button and the car raises up two inches!) or the Sound Studio Package (no, not sure I could hear the difference in quality and also do the Car Talk guys really need to be on 12 separate speakers?)

But then we had to figure out the color. Here is a major problem with Tesla not having a dealership, there are no cars on the lot to check out the colors. All they have are these color panels. We knew what the white and the silver (actually a lovely soft grey) looked like, but what about the blue or the red or the green? A paint chip does not tell you much about what your wall will look like once painted and that's how we felt about the color panels. The Tesla person who was helping us handed us several panels and pointed us towards the door so out we went to the parking lot to see how the colors looked in the sun. Then Laurence had the brilliant idea of matching the colors to actual cars in the parking lot. We found a Mazda that was close to the dark grey, and a Honda that was similar enough to the red, and several makes that had a very close match to the blue. We couldn't find the green and we'd probably still be looking if security had not driven up and wanted to know what we were doing. We explained but he still looked at us funny.

Back inside we returned the panels and sat in front of the computer to configure the car. We settled on (and by settled on I mean I chose) green (Laurence preferred the silver) and picked out all our options. Then we pushed the button and waited for the estimated date of delivery. Everything we'd read and everyone we'd talked to had a waiting time of at least six months, but it came back Feb/Mar. Yippee!!!

So then I went home and waited and waited and waited for Tesla to call. This weekend I logged onto the web site and they had posted my delivery window dates. Between March 2nd and March 16th the car will arrive!

So now I'm at waiting and waiting and waiting. Laurence and I already cleaned the garage in preparation for the electrician (to install the outlet needed) and in anticipation of the new car. I have gone on the Tesla web site and read all the forums. I have looked up who Elon Musk is. I have annoyed my brother by pointing out that I will have a Tesla soon and he will not. I really must find something constructive to do.

I think my car will never get here.

Van Gogh

Earlier this month we went to see the exhibit "Becoming Van Gogh" at the Denver Art Museum. Let me just say that I have never been to such a crowded exhibit in my life. It was packed. So packed that the museum is taking the unprecedented step on its last weekend of remaining open from eight in the morning on Saturday until midnight on Sunday. Of course, it is completely sold out.

The exhibit focused on Van Gogh's becoming, well, Van Gogh. Works covered the entire span of his career from his early sketches (which should give any aspiring artist hope because they were certainly not his best work) to some of his masterpieces. I loved it because while great art is nice to look at, seeing that great artist's work progress from the my-little-nephew-can-do-that stage to the ok-I-give-up-that-is-so-far-beyond-anyone-I-know stage is a revelation. The exhibit is a wonderful example of Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 hour thesis, that anyone practicing something mindfully for 10,000 hours can become a master. (Which of course leads a person to the uncomfortable conclusion that there are only so many 10,000 hour chunks left in their life and oh-my-God! what am I going to spend it on? And why didn't I know this when I was twenty?)

So, to distract myself from thoughts of how I may have squandered my hours I will now describe for you some of my favorite parts of the exhibit.

Van Gogh used a perspective frame. This was a frame that showed the lines of perspective (think of the Last Supper with those diagonal lines drawn on it.) You place the frame in front of you and look at the landscape you are drawing through it. Then you use the lines as guides. He also had a grid frame. Same thing, hold it up between you and your subject and then transfer what is in each little square to the corresponding square on your paper. I'm not sure how this simplifies your life, but Van Gogh was a big fan.

Van Gogh copied copiously from other artists. Of course, how else do you learn a new technique if you do not copy and practice? But it is still a bit jarring to see it. The fun part is that sometimes, especially as the exhibit progresses, his work is so much better than the work he is copying.

Van Gogh did not love color in the beginning. He had to work and learn about color. His earlier works have very little color in them but as the exhibit unfolds it becomes more and more important. One of his techniques to strengthen his color sense was to use yarn. He would take two colors of yarn and roll them into a ball so he could then see how the two colors affected each other, thus simultaneously improving his ability to paint the colors side by side without mixing them and endearing himself to all the knitters.

Van Gogh was friends with Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. And they took an art class together in Paris. The class consisted of learning to draw the human figure from plaster casts. Since he and Toulouse-Lautrec were assigned seats behind the plaster casts because, apparently, they did not draw very well, we are treated to sketches of the backsides of nude women. For what it's worth, in a side by side comparison of sketches Toulouse-Lautrec's seem a bit better than Van Gogh's. The exhibit does not mention which students in their class sat in front of the models.

Van Gogh's ears were not referred to once. An odd omission since that is the first thing anyone thinks of when they think of Van Gogh. Not to worry, though, I looked it up. As we all know Van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to a prostitute. (OK, I didn't know that. I knew he cut off his ear and sent it to someone, but I did not know she was a prostitute. Nor did I know that because she was, understandably, horrified she alerted the police and they found the artist before he bled to death.)  He supposedly did this after an argument with his friend Gauguin. Well, good news! According to two German scholars none of this makes any sense at all and they have put forward an alternative theory. Instead of Van Gogh chopping off his own ear with a razor and sending it to the unfortunate woman, Gauguin, who liked to fence, cut off said ear during their quarrel and then Van Gogh sent it to the poor woman. No explanation of why he would send his ear to anyone, which, really, is the least understandable part of the whole story. Neither Van Gogh nor Gauguin could admit to what really happened because cutting off someone else's ear with a sword was illegal and Gauguin would have been jailed. That was the last time Van Gogh ever saw Gauguin.

Which brings us to the end of the exhibit and Van Gogh's death. He was thirty-seven years old which surprised me considering how much he accomplished. Now, again, we all know he shot himself and, again, we are all wrong. Since the gun was never found and the angle of the wound was odd and Van Gogh gave conflicting statements, people who study these things have come to a new conclusion. Van Gogh was shot by a friend's teenage son during a quarrel. Yes, yes, I know, shocking. You would think he would have learned from his encounter with Gauguin not to argue with people holding weapons, or at least to choose a better class of friends. And yet, he did not and we are left with some great works of art and the itch to know what he would have painted next and whom he would have quarreled with if he had lived.

Global Warming?!

Before anyone gets on my case, no I am not a global warming denier. I totally believe the world is warming one tiny degree (obviously Fahrenheit, not Celsius)  at a time. I also trust that the climatologists are correct that even a few degrees can have a huge impact. I do not understand why a change of several degrees can melt glaciers, but I assume that, like financial takeovers and moving the world, leveraging is somehow involved. I don't particularly worry about not understanding it because I don't understand electricity and, yet, the lights go on every time I hit the switch. (Except, of course, when I don't change the lightbulb, but I really hate changing lightbulbs and I get that it's the lightbulb that's the problem, not that the electricity has somehow stopped working.)

As for the idea that humans bear the responsibility for warming the planet, due to green house gases, carbon emissions, etc. Well, I'm pretty sure they're right on that, too. I'll even go out on a limb and say I'm 98% sure they're right. The 2% is my insurance in case the scientists are somehow wrong or even not quite right. I can then say, "Y'know, I always had my doubts..."

The real issue I have with this whole global warming thing is my dashed expectations. I mean, the scientists said, "Global warming!" I took this to mean, "The world is getting warmer!" I like warmer. I hate the cold. A lot. To me the idea of a warmer planet is a thing of beauty. I imagine Hawaii, but everywhere. I was looking forward to milder winters and longer summers. I even toyed with the idea of buying a huge, unnecessary SUV just to hurry things along. The thought of the oceans rising doesn't bother me, I live in Colorado. I'm pretty sure nothing's rising a mile high.

So, I was ready and eager for global warming. Then the scientists said what they really meant was that while the earth was warming, this would result not in better living conditions for those of us in the mountain region, but in climate change. Change as in hotter summers, harsher winters, severe drought in some places, severe flooding in other places, severe weather events (like a Hurricane Sandy), as well as the usual no more glaciers.

Talk about a let down. I do feel a bit betrayed by all this. I mean, I believed them. As difficult as the idea that people can effect something as large and seemingly immutable as the temperature of a planet is, I did try to wrap my head around it. And while I did not go out of my way to educate myself on the subject (I have not seen "An Inconvenient Truth") I did not hide my head in the sand. The least the  scientists could have done was be clear about where we were heading. Not the warm paradise of my dreams, but weather on steroids.  My only consolation, I never bought an SUV.

Scuba Diving

The word "scuba" began life as an acronym. Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus. A miracle of technology allowing us to swim under the water for an extended period of time. Using it we can explore coral reefs forty feet below the ocean's surface. We can wander through forests of kelp. We can sit on the floor of a bay in the evening and watch manta rays swim above us. We can leave behind the harsh gravity of the earthbound and weightlessly fly in any direction we choose.

The world scuba diving opens up to us is wondrous and precious. Unfortunately, it is also terribly, terribly wrong. We are not adapted to the underwater environment. It does not want us there. The oceans are populated with horrible animals ready to sting, bite and drown us. (Yes, drown. And it is those cute, anthropomorphized dolphins I'm talking about here. We've all heard the stories about the drowning person a dolphin holds up and pushes to shore. Well apparently they don't necessarily know we belong on land. There are stories of them pushing people out to sea.)

On the physiological level scuba diving opens us up to all new levels of horror. The deeper you go the more gas dissolves in your bloodstream due to the pressure of the water. As you come up you must go very slowly to allow time for this gas to be released safely through your lungs. If you don't, the gas can be released pretty much anywhere in your body and cause godawful problems. Cerebral embolisms for instance. Also, decompression sickness, that would be the bends to the rest of us. The graphic example given to explain the bends is to think of what happens when you shake a soda and then unscrew the lid. That is what happens in your body. And if that weren't bad enough, if you forget to exhale while ascending, the air in your lungs will expand due to the decreasing pressure and cause a lung expansion injury (counter-intuitively, this can collapse your lung.)

Oh, and don't think that descending does not have its share of problems. The most obvious would be not clearing your ears properly and rupturing your ear drum. You can also mess up your sinuses. The weirdest thing, though, is nitrogen narcosis. This sometimes develops as you dive and manifests as lightheadedness, poor judgement, decreased coordination, hallucinations and ultimately death. The cure is easy, simply stop and head back towards the surface (slowly!!!). This assumes, of course, that you have any sense of what is going on and can correctly locate which way up is.

As I said, we are not supposed to be spending large periods of time underwater. My husband, though, begs to differ. A couple of weeks ago we took a scuba diving course. I thought, since I am a good swimmer and like the water, that it would be a piece of cake, that I would enjoy it, that I would have a wonderful, new, expensive hobby. It did not go well.

I read the book and did the homework. The classroom part went swimmingly (hee, hee!) Then we trooped into the pool area. We changed into swimsuits and struggled into wetsuits (which I love, because it keeps you warm). Then we learned how to put on the buoyancy vests and weight belts (are you seeing the contradiction there?) We assembled the tanks and regulators and smeared de-fogging goop in our masks. Then we got into the pool. This is a ten foot deep pool with a ledge on one side that is only about four and a half feet deep. We stood on that and practiced putting our faces in the water and breathing through the regulator. Easy! Cool! Look at me, I'm breathing underwater!

Then we all had to sit on the ledge. This puts a good foot or two of water over our heads. I can't tell you what changed. The only way to describe it is an overwhelming sense of wrongness. And despite what you might think, I was breathing just fine before the anxiety hit. Fear of not being able to breathe was not the issue. I know I can breathe under there, I just wanted to escape. And when you are anxious, of course, your breathing goes right to hell. I would manage to get my breathing under control and then have to wrestle with the wrongness issue again. Luckily, it resolved itself when I couldn't stand it any longer and stood up.

The instructors were very kind (which makes it worse in a way, because you're feeling shaky and scared and more than a bit idiotic and the niceness just confirms all three emotions.) One of them helped me get used to being under water gradually and that helped. Anyway, I made it through the weekend without any more anxiety attacks. I had no problems with any of the exercises requiring the removal and retrieval of my regulator or my mask. I did, however, feel my heart start to race when we did the just-so-you-know-what-it-feels-like-to-run-out-of-air-we-are-shutting-off-your-tank-under-water exercise. (I know, one fun thing after another.)

After the weekend, which I survived, I then had to apologize to my husband for not taking his fear of spiders seriously. Really, I thought he was just being over sensitive about their eight legs. He told me once they move wrong. I never really understood that. OK, I still don't understand that, but I will refrain from teasing him about it and will remove spiders for him when he asks.

My scuba saga is not over yet. We are required, in order to be certified, to have four open water dives with an instructor. Open water. Open water. Deep open water. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I do not look forward to it. A ten foot deep indoor pool with a ledge is not a vast ocean with currents and hostile animals. Alas, it is not even a small lake or reservoir. You can easily swim from one end to the other in one breath. (Not that I would, because, you know, over-expanded lungs...) I have, however, conquered it and I will attempt the open water swims. I just hope my husband appreciates it the next time I scoop up a spider for him and release it outside.

Quick Note

All right, all right. The only reason I am writing anything today is 1) I have a little bit of time and 2) I feel guilty I have written in a while.

That said, I don't have much to say. I have been very busy, but not so anyone would notice. You know the kind of busy: lots of things to go to (from kids' sports events to school functions to dinner dates with friends scheduled weeks ago), bad weather (it does slow you down), school projects (yes, I know this belongs to the kids, but seriously disruptive regardless), and who knows what all, but nothing to show for it at the end. Luckily, I think the worst is over (unless I have just jinxed myself for being so presumptuous.)

The one thing I did accomplish is my office. It is far from finished and to the untrained eye you cannot tell anything had been done, but I know. The desk is clear and several large stacks of paper have been dealt with. The office is now somewhat functional, meaning I have a place to put paper as it comes in and can find what I need fairly easily. It may stay in this state until after April 15th, after which, I should have time to work on the stack of projects in the corner, paint and look for good shelves and a comfy chair. For now it works. Except I may need to get a space heater. My office being in the basement it stays cool (great in summer, not so much in winter). I could turn the heat on, but that heats the whole basement when I just need to be warm for maybe an hour. Oh, and I have to move the little tv in and set up the dvd player. Nothing helps paperwork like our little electronic friends.

The weather is much better now. It has been in the 50's and 60's for awhile and sunny. I can barely remember why I was so whiny when it was -6.

Well, that is all for now, except for one thing. My sister is in Paris meeting her husband who has been overseas for the last 3 months. Very, very romantic. I can't wait to hear about her trip.

Not Much of Anything

Just a very short post today. Not much has happened in the last week or two. The most notable thing was the sub-zero temperatures that hit Colorado for several days. It was awful. The boys had no school for two days because apparently diesel buses don't like degrees with negatives in front of them and stall out. Which makes me wonder, how do the northern states and Canada cope? Why do their buses run and ours don't? (I'm thinking electric motor warmers.)

We, fortunately, did not get the snow some of the other states did. We had a little bit, but it was the light dry snow you can remove from your walk with a broom. Yesterday it snowed, but again, not much, just a couple of inches. Wonderfully, the temperature was in the twenties. Practically springlike. It will be warmer today, too, in the forties. Yay!!

For any of you who were wondering, no, I do not ride my horse when the temperature hovers around zero. This does lead to the problem of a large cooped up animal who is finally let out of his stall. On Wednesday I did go to the barn and let poor Raymond out. I put him on a lounge line (a long rope, essentially, that allows you to move the horse in a large circle around you) and since the indoor arena was empty (except for Tracy hand walking Summer) I let him lie down and roll in the dirt. Happy, happy horse. He then got up and decided bucking would be a very good idea. Luckily, because I was standing about fifteen feet away at the end of a rope, he stopped when I scolded him. He then behaved very nicely while I lounged him in a walk and trot. Too cold for cantering. Then he got stuffed back in his stall, which he was delighted about because his dinner (hay) arrived just as I put him away.

The boys were figuratively let out of their stalls on Wednesday as well. Stephen had a voluntary basketball practice at school which was handy since it is 10 minutes away from the barn. He was very happy to get out of the house and move. Harrison went to a friend's house and got to be social for a few hours. Both boys were very pleasant the rest of the day. Yesterday they went back to school and my schedule has returned somewhat to normal.

Denver Cattle Drive

It's that time of year again. Longhorn cattle being driven through the streets of downtown Denver. True it's only a couple of dozen steers and most of them appear fairly young and they don't get driven very far, but still the juxtaposition of steers, cowboys on horseback and skyscrapers feels a bit dislocating both in time and space.

Having lived in Denver for the last eighteen years with my husband, Laurence, and as a kid for five years (is that right, Mom?) I had never seen the annual cattle drive. Laurence decided, since the weather was warm, that this was the year we should see it. Since it happened on a Thursday this year I dragged along my friend, Audrey. (We always lunch on Thursdays, you see, and she had never seen it either, although she has lived in Colorado her whole life.)

So I picked up Audrey and we met Laurence downtown. A surprising number of people lined either side of the street. It was noon, so I suppose a lot were on their lunch break. We waited a while and then the cattle came ambling up the street from Union Station. I tried to take a lot of pictures, but only the one I posted really came out well enough. (I have never loved taking pictures and have happily ceded (Laurence would say dumped) that responsibility to Laurence. I am realizing that for a blog I need pictures, so I will have to work on those skills.)

Anyway, the steers walked along surrounded on all sides by cowboys (and cowgirls) like they were some kind of criminal gang. They didn't seem to mind, just out for a stroll enjoying the sun. Following the livestock came Penny Chenery, owner of Secretariat, in a carriage. I'm not sure what came after that because the three of us were starving and took off to get some lunch.

For those of you who have never lived in Colorado the cattle drive does not exist on its own. It is the first event in the National Western Stockshow which began on Saturday, Jan 8th. The stockshow is the largest one in the U.S. Think of it like a western fair without the rides (unless you count mutton-busting where small children in helmets are placed on the backs of sheep and everyone waits to see how long it takes for them to fall off.) It all takes place inside a complex of buildings called the National Western Complex. There is livestock of all kinds, a petting zoo, commercial booths and lots of food.

There are other quirks of the stock show (a steer displayed in the lobby of the historic Brown Palace Hotel) which I will write about next year.

Dog Bites Can

Yesterday morning I came home early from Copper with Piper the Dog. I had a riding lesson I did not want to miss. Laurence and the boys remained in the mountains to ski for a few more hours before returning for their piano lessons late in the afternoon.

I drove straight to the barn and parked. I did look around for horses before letting Piper out of the van but I did not look for the resident peacock. I turned to get her leash and heard the most god-awful racket. I turned and there was my dog barking and jumping in the air as the peacock, clucking away like you wouldn't believe, flew over her head to the roof of the barn. I couldn't believe how large a bird a peacock is with his wings extended. He came within inches of smacking Piper (deservedly) in the head with his claws. She didn't care. She was pretty impressed with herself. The bird continued complaining loudly for another fifteen minutes.

Needless to say, back in the van went the dog. After my lesson (which went well, thank you very much) I drove to lunch with a couple of other people. (If you must know we went to Subway, I had turkey on wheat.) I had driven my van and when I got back in there was a very odd smell. Piper was doing her best to look nonchalant which was a dead giveaway. I went to the back of the van and looked through the stuff I'd brought back from Copper. There it was, the half eaten can of dog food I'd packed under everything in the laundry basket (my favorite way to pack going back and forth from the mountains) so Piper wouldn't get it sitting right next to the basket. She did a pretty good job keeping everything in the basket tidy, if the smell and can hadn't been right there I wouldn't have realized her thievery.

Very little was left in the can and truly I was not too upset with her. I know her well enough to know what she is capable of and should have stowed the food better. What horrified me was the condition of the can. It had holes punctured in it everywhere. I grabbed Piper and immediately looked at her gums and in her mouth and her tongue. No cuts or blood anywhere. I could not believe it. She should have been shredded. She did not even attempt to eat the kibble in the zip-loc bag.

Someone seeing the can remarked, "Good thing it wasn't an arm." I was horrified all over again. It is unbelievable what damage a dog can do with their teeth.

I scolded Piper and told her how lucky she was not to be injured. She yawned and remained unrepentant.

Dance Recital

Sunday was the dance recital of my four-year-old goddaughter. This was her very first performance ever. Let me just say right away she was completely adorable. With her red-striped dress with a flared skirt and pill box hat (my husband said it reminded him of a cigarette-girl uniform) and her hair pulled back in a very curly pony tail she hardly needed her dimples to make you just look at her and say, "Isn't she just the cutest little thing ever!"

This was also my first exposure to dance recitals. (For all of you who cannot believe my friend dragged me to her daughter's dance recital, let me tell you, I volunteered. I volunteered despite the fact that I have been attending my own children's piano recitals for ten years. I had a good idea what I was in for.) The recital was staged at Denver University's Newman Center, a very nice place for a recital. Luckily, my friend got good seats for us a few rows back from the stage and in the center. If it weren't for the woman with the large head in front of me, it would have been perfect. (OK, I need to say this, the woman several seats over from me was a complete boor. The first dancers are on the stage, lovely pre-teen girls, smiling and balleting away and this woman stands halfway up and is wildly waving her arms at her husband who now has to squeeze past us and who knows how many other people, to get to his seat. Then, not one minute later, she does it again! I could not believe it, I don't even know who she was waving at the second time because I was so annoyed. And it is not like they didn't know where their seats were, it was printed on the tickets they needed to get into the performance. Jerks. I feel a little better now.)

The next performers were the two and three-year-old set. I'm not sure this age group should stage public performances. Not that they weren't cute and all, they were, but really, their arms barely reach over their heads and they were always a movement or two behind their teachers who helpfully stood to each side and also danced. This I found very useful and reminiscent of the sign-language interpreters used at public speeches. By watching the teachers and then the students you could see what it was they were trying to achieve. Watching these little ones, half of whom looked confused and one or two more about to cry, I couldn't help but think that perhaps waiting a year or two before putting them onstage might be the kind thing to do.

A few groups later the four-year-olds came on. My little goddaughter looked very happy and relaxed (as did most of this group, in stark contrast to the younger girls). She looked out at the audience and spotted her mother. Her face lit up and she stopped dancing and gave a big wave. Of course, all of us waved right back. She then returned her attention to her teacher/interpreter and danced. Quite well I'd say. Certainly better than most of the others. I'm pretty sure she has star potential.

Her group made a second appearance toward the end of the recital. They looked just as cute as before. In between were various types of dancing groups. Some of the children appeared in several dances, each requiring a different costume. I couldn't help but try to calculate how much money that added up to. Predictably all the dancers were girls except for two boys. The boys danced quite well. I realized that perhaps this was because they were the only boys. If you are going to stand out you really need to work hard to not embarrass yourself. Of particular note were the five teenage ballerinas. They were very graceful and serene. It was quite soothing to watch them. The show stopper came at the very end with the various age groups tapping away and enjoying themselves hugely. It made me want to take lessons immediately (which may have been the point.)

After the hour and a half (!) of dancing we met up with my goddaughter in the lobby. We took lots of pictures of her and gave her flowers and she seemed very happy. Only six months till her next recital.

My New Office

A week or two ago I decided that the playroom in the basement, which the boys no longer use, would make a great office for myself. My desk sat in an open space at the bottom of the stairs from the first floor. Also sharing the space is our second fridge and a tread mill (which really does get used, if sporadically.) Shelves and an armoir (in which I keep office stuff) contributed to the claustrophobia. Taking over the playroom would almost double my space.

My idea to put nothing in my new office that I did not want permanently (like the barn red old wood shelves) was quickly dashed for two reasons. The first was everything would not fit in my old office space and the second was I actually needed the shelf space and it wouldn't be until after New Years before I could even think of shopping for new stuff. So now began the giant puzzle of moving furniture from the toy room (an air hockey table, a different set of barn red shelving, various toys and games) to my space and vice versa. And of course, shelves and desks and cabinets cannot be moved with stuff in or on them. My basement looked like everything had exploded, paper and notebooks and dismantled air hockey table parts and books and toys and various semi completed projects everywhere. Mostly on the floor. (Remember, moving everything, so no available surface areas except the floor and the occasional chair.) Only the guest room and bath were spared and only because my sister and her children arrive the day after Christmas (Yay!) and would need them.

I have finally arrived at the point where I have most of the stuff I need in my office actually in my office. Everything else is in the space it will live in. Except the stuff I just remembered that is sitting outside the guest room. Oh, and a bookshelf with the small tv and dvd player. And another small cabinet that I can't decide about. And there might be some other stuff I threw in the storage room. I guess I'll be moving all that later today.

Anyway, when that part is done I feel Phase One will have been completed. Phase Two then begins. Phase Two means going through all the boxes of paper and things that I have stacked in their respective spaces. All the items on the floor (and occasional chair) I just threw into boxes and laundry baskets to sort out later. The bad news is I have a double digit number of boxes and baskets in my office, the good news is I only have to go through it one container at a time. I'm also expecting to get rid of a lot of stuff in Phase Two. (Some stuff has already gone to Goodwill and been thrown out, but that was just the screamingly obvious. Toys for the 5-9 year old crowd (boys are now 13 and 15), books I read and hated, old zoo magazines I was going to read.) Now I have to really look at everything. (If anyone has a good way to tackle this part of the project I'm open to ideas. The main idea is to keep the office functional while sorting through chaos. Leave a comment. Please!!) This phase could take anywhere from a few weeks to several years.

Phase Three will be more fun. The room needs painting due to lots of scuff marks on the walls and a few holes where some pictures hung. Then I have some pictures to get framed and hung and a dog bed (for Piper, of course) to get and a comfy chair for the corner, shelves to replace the red monstrosity and who knows what all. I'll see when I get there.

For those of you who would like to see pictures of this mess, you will be disappointed. I do have some pride.

Later.

Thanksgiving 2010

We traveled to my parents’ house in Rhode Island for Thanksgiving this year. We flew Southwest and had an extremely uneventful journey.

We picked up the boys at school on Tuesday and headed for the airport. It would have been close, but our flight was conveniently delayed about forty minutes and we had plenty of time to eat and get through security. Security (and I know you all are hoping for a story here) took about five minutes. Very few people in the line in late afternoon and they had extra workers. Walked right through. None of us were selected for the super special security and simply had to go through the regular machines. I did get a slight pat down due to my bulky sweater, but the woman could not have been more polite. My hair got a quick check, too. No drama, nothing. A bit of a let down after watching the news.

We made up most of our delay time in the air and landed in Boston only a few minutes behind. And let me say something to Southwest here. Ditch your boarding process. I like having an assigned seat, I don’t mind sitting with my family, who cares if your system is more efficient than anyone else’s (or maybe you just think it is, it did not seem a whole lot faster to me.) Points though for having a bit of leg room. I did have a center seat, but since I could move my legs it wasn’t too bad. (Also had a good seat mate. It turns out she had lived in Washington, DC a year or two ago and it was good to compare notes. Happily, my favorite restaurant, El Tamarindo, is still there and the salsa is just as good as ever.)

Actual Thanksgiving dinner was awesome, turkey was good, lots of gravy and stuffing, green bean casserole (yes, the kind made with cream of mushroom soup and those canned onion ring thingees, yum, yum) and much more. My brothers were there with their wives and kids (two each) so it was a nice size gathering.

To those who love a good fight, no drama. I pat myself on the back for this because, really, I had to exercise great restraint when it turned out that my first-grade niece, Katie, not only loves the dark turkey meat (I'm used to having it mostly to myself), but also thinks that banana cream pie is the best dessert ever. The fact that I did not pull rank and snag the last piece for myself instead of allowing her and Harrison (my traitorous son) to eat it speaks volumes. (I am not a dessert person and only like banana cream pie and chocolate pie (which my mother did not make) which just highlights more of my self-sacrificing nature.)

Our return trip was a touch less grueling because we drove back to Newton, MA and stayed overnight with Laurence's brother, Ed, and his family. The next day we flew out of Logan in the early afternoon (again no lines in security) and made it home on time. Our trusty dog, Piper, was delighted to see us and proceeded to whine and yip and tell us all about her time with Karen (our friend who housesits while we're away) and the Goldens (Karen's two golden retrievers, Naia and Finn.) It's good to be welcomed home.

Teenage Moment

Tonight at dinner I was a bit taken aback by Stephen's approach to reading "The Kite Runner." (Stephen is a high-school freshman.) Apparently to make the school assignment more fun he would substitute certain words in his head for those in the text. Amir (the main character) became Avatar, Kabul became Pandora, and money became unobtainium. I hope he doesn't mix them up on the test.

This and That

Today I am in Panera's in Cherry Creek working. Well, I have spent 90 minutes trying different things to make my blog look better. I have come to the conclusion that I need more computer skills than I have or want to make my blog look great. I may have to ask for help.

I do know more pictures would be a start, so I will have to either start taking photos or raid Laurence's computer for them. Any other ideas for my blog improvement project would be welcome.

So, I'm at Panera's, near the fake fire (because it is the warmest spot in the restaurant) and trying to work. I have no ideas for today, well, I do have ideas, I just don't feel like writing about any of them. (Truly, do you really want to read about my children's piano recital? Other than they played brilliantly, better than any other children have ever played before, there is not much to tell.) I have refilled my ice tea twice, just so I can walk around and waste time. For the record, it seems to be card playing day. Lots of meetings, too. People working on computers. It's very inspiring. I think I could get quite a bit of writing done, if I could only think of something.

I would have been at the barn this morning, riding my faithful steed, Raymond, except he twisted a shoe. The farrier I use is at some horse show for the week, so unless another farrier happens to be at the barn, Ray gets to hang out in his stall and chomp hay all week. (For those of you who know horses, I (and by I, I mean my trainer, Rebecca) have removed the offending shoe so he won't tear up his hoof.) Ray messed up his front shoe, but it seems if it had been a back shoe, both back shoes could be removed and I could ride him. I think. I have no idea why no back shoes are OK, but no front shoes are not.

I discovered his twisted shoe yesterday right before our jumping lesson. Luckily for me, but not for Tracy (who was driving a parent to a doctor's appointment), she couldn't ride and I borrowed her horse, Summer. This was very fun. She (Summer, not Tracy) is a small bay thoroughbred. Very ladylike. (Come to think of it Tracy is ladylike, too.) She (again, Summer) is very light and just sails over jumps. We jumped cross rails. (Which look exactly like they sound, two rails crossed in the middle. The only thing lower than a cross rail is a pole on the ground. We started with poles.) I know, not hugely challenging, unless you are a beginner, having irrational jumping fears, or are riding your friend's horse for the first time and are worried about breaking her. (If you must know, I have experienced all three situations.) Summer did great and I did not injure or frighten her a bit.

Tomorrow, in keeping with my blog improvements, I will take pictures of Ray and Summer and add them to this post.

Later.

Update: Finally added a picture of Summer to this post.

Mondrian vs van Doesburg

In October we took advantage of a school break and went to New York City. There Laurence and I tortured the boys with trips to various museums and cultural happenings. One of the places we visited was the Guggenheim, the museum designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

For those of you who have never visited the museum, it is a giant spiral. From the atrium it looks pretty cool (it reminded me of the Baltimore Aquarium which spirals around a giant fish tank), and it's fun to walk up the ramp and into the various short halls that lead into the different galleries. Stephen and Harrison were very enthusiastic and came up with all sorts of "Call of Duty" (a video game where you hunt aliens in various settings) scenarios that could take place in it.

One of the small galleries contained an exhibit by some artist. (Honestly, I have no idea what the artist's name is. I am new to this blogging and failed to bring a notebook to write down this type of thing. I figured I could look it up on the internet, but it turns out you need more info than "some artist at the Guggenheim". I don't even know if it was a temporary or permanent exhibit. Or which level it was on, which is a problem with the ramp. Or even the artist's gender. Anyway, I'll try to do better in the future, because, of course, you are dying to know the name of this artist.) We entered and it was like a library, complete with bookshelves and books, which you could take down and read. (No, I don't remember what the books titles were or what they were about.) Part of the exhibit was roped off and it had a table and chairs, more shelves, and shattered glass (fake it turns out) all over the place.

I have no idea what it meant or what it referred to. I do know the explanatory sign made a reference to the split between Piet Mondrian and Theo van Doesburg over their views regarding diagonal versus horizontal and vertical lines. (Please just think about that for a moment. Even if you are a serious student of art, the absurdity of it has to get you.)

These two Dutch artists became friends after van Doesburg wrote an article about an exposition for a magazine. (Apparently he could not make a living simply painting.) The exposition contained some works by Mondrian and van Doesburg was transported, or at least interested enough to contact Mondrian. They corresponded for years, then van Doesburg moved to Paris where Mondrian lived. They hung out together a great deal until "van Doesburg insisted on the diagonal's dynamic aspects." (Wikipedia) This proved too much for Mondrian, who loved the grid format, and the friendship ended. (No worries, it was only temporary. You do have to wonder, though, if they remained close.)

Above is a picture by Theo van Doesburg titled "Counter-Composition XIV." I do not have a Mondrian for comparison because he died in 1944 and his works are not yet in the public domain. (He must be dead for 70 years, so check back in 2014 and I'll have one posted.) This is not as big a problem as you might expect. Simply tilt your computer 45 degrees and you'll have an idea of what a Mondrian looks like.

Initiated Ordinance 300

I know I was going to write about our trip to New York City, but yesterday I was happily reading through my voters' blue book and filling out my cheat sheet for voting (we have lots of candidates and propositions this midterm) when I got to the last item. Initiated Ordinance 300. That was it. No text, no explanation, no summary, no pros and cons, nothing. I had to find my sample ballot to find the text.

Shall the voters for the City and County of Denver adopt an Initiated Ordinance to require the creation of an extraterrestrial affairs commission to help ensure the health, safety, and cultural awareness of Denver residents and visitors in relation to potential encounters or interactions with extraterrestrial intelligent beings or their vehicles, and fund such commission from grants, gifts and donations?

I realize that your first question on reading this is, "What's an Initiated Ordinance?" Lucky for you I looked this up. Apparently it is simply an ordinance that has been placed on the ballot by voters in the City and County of Denver.

And yes, this is really on the ballot.

The ordinance was written and the signatures collected by Jeff Peckman, a writer for the internet publication, Examiner.com. He, apparently, believes in UFOs and believes that we need to pester the government for full disclosure on the subject. A few years ago he managed to get an initiative on the ballot that would "require the city to help ensure public safety by increasing peacefulness." A lovely idea, but it failed at the polls.

On looking this up on the internet, because shockingly, with all the political ads and discussion on tv, radio and in the papers of everything ballot oriented, I somehow missed this ordinance, I found a few articles. Most, if not all, seem to be highly dismissive of the initiative and some appear to be a bit angry. They complain about the waste of taxpayers' money. They mock the idea of UFOs and basically write Mr. Peckman off as a crackpot. They seem to think Denver may not be taking things seriously enough. None of them seem to have read the ordinance very closely.

The commission, made up of seven members, would not use taxpayer money. It would be funded by grants and donations. If you don't approve of it, you don't have to contribute to it.

It also has a very Denver slant. Not only would health and safety be ensured, but so would cultural awareness. We are a very culturally aware city. When Denver International Airport was built a portion of its construction costs were earmarked for art. (And a good thing, because now we have a ginormous blue rearing mustang with scary red eyes guarding the road into and out of the airport complex.) We also have a large blue bear staring into the window of the Convention Center. And in front of the Denver Performing Arts Complex we have several very tall, very elongated dancers. Many people think they resemble aliens of the extraterrestrial sort. So you see, we have a history of art and aliens.

The cultural clause also protects our distinctive Denver culture in case of any overbearing extraterrestrial influx of alien culture. (I'm thinking the equivalent situation would be us and Canada. They do have certain laws regarding movie and tv production to ensure a distinctly Canadian viewpoint. A reaction to the rather overbearingness of our own culture.) I for one would not like to see the tradition of displaying the winning steer of the National Western Stock Show in the lobby of the historic Brown Palace come to an end. Nor the annual stampede through downtown. If the aliens turn out to be vegetarians, this could become an issue. Also, if they are pacifists expect some protests outside of Invesco Field during Broncos games and the Pepsi Center during Avalanche games.

A particularly farsighted portion of the initiative has been completely overlooked. It makes me wonder if those who commented on this live anywhere near a city or have even visited one. "...interactions with extraterrestrial intelligent beings or their vehicles" (emphasis mine) is the pertinent phrase in all this. For those of you who remember when John Hickenlooper was first elected mayor, this was one of his campaign issues. Not alien vehicles, but parking in the city, which is better, but still not great. Any added vehicles could only make things worse. We can hardly assume that our cars and trucks would work for whatever body type these extraterrestrials might have. What if the ETs have car equivalents wider than a hummer? Or longer than a pickup? Would all our parking and roads have to accommodate these larger dimensions? What if they are so tiny our SUVs (highly popular around here) just run right over them without seeing them? Or all our traffic signs need to be lowered so they can see them in their short vehicles? These are not small issues. Car logistics in a city are complicated enough without introducing a radical new style of vehicle and driver. With the arrival of extraterrestrials this will require a great deal of thought and care. Best to start now.

So you see, even with all these great ideas embodied in Initiated Ordinance 300 I'm still undecided if I should vote for this or not. My teenage boys think I should, they love this ordinance, but I am a citizen and I take my voting seriously. Really, what are the chances of extraterrestrials arriving here anytime soon? And even then, they'll probably head to New York City, or Shanghai, or London (hopefully not Pyongyang.) We'll have plenty of time to legislate something then. We have enough regulations and commissions now and while it probably won't pass, what if it does? If this were a constitutional amendment (of which we have many) this would be easy, we have enough amendments that should not be amendments, so no. But it's just an ordinance...so it's tempting.

To get an initiative on the ballot it takes at least 3,973 valid signatures from registered Denver voters. The initiative's website claims it collected over 10,000. This means that at least 10,000 people in Denver, valid and registered, feel that we need to have a commission on extraterrestrial affairs. Or at least feel we need to vote on it. Or that with all the rancor in the election right now we need something to smile about. It is the last item on the ballot, the last thing you see after voting on a close senate race, a three way run for governor, some confusing and angry propositions and other assorted contests. You see it and the sheer unexpectedness of it, the silliness of it, the optimism of it reminds you that we live in a wondrous world and a country of limitless possibilities and that with a little foresight and planning we really can live together well and harmoniously. And maybe even find a parking space. And that, at least, is something to vote yes on.

New Post Coming Soon

Sorry for the lapse in posts. (Notice how I am assuming there exists a vast and demanding readership for my blog?) My life recently has been busy and not so exciting. The family has been settling into our school year routine. This always takes more time and energy than you would think. (Or maybe it's me. I'm not good with change.)

Anyway, we just went to New York City for a few days and I will be writing about that. I just wanted to write and post this to make sure my site still works and that I haven't forgotten how to type.

Writing to you soon,

Michele