Yesterday, I celebrated the first anniversary of my Denver move. I’m feeling big BIG love for the Centennial State these days. I’m not known for my clever decisions but coming here definitely makes the top five. And, as much as I have grumbled about him in previous posts, I gotta give credit to MonkMan for intersecting my life and introducing me to this beautiful place; Colorado simply wasn’t on my radar prior to our meeting.
So, last night, I threw myself a little shindig and must have had a good time for today, I’m a bit wobbly – grateful, but wobbly. My little treehouse of an apartment hosted pals from different factions of my life – my go-getter crew from Up The Creek, my fellow Rodents and some blogger pals, including my co-lieutenants, HDW and Kath. (Please note how HDW and I insist on hogging the lens, nearly suffocating dear Kath, who threw out the first life raft here in Denver, bless her cheery soul.)
Here's another with me, Dave and Amy - they'd asked me to pose with the huge wooden Fijian penis that surreptitiously resides in the living room. Sometimes, it makes men nervous though Dave seems quite confident. Hmmmmmm . . .
In preparing for the party, I suddenly became my mother in buying way too much food for a small affair and ending up with a ridiculous surplus. I may have to start a Party Closet like my mother’s (pictured here.) The thing is, if she had more empty closets – there would simply be more Party Closets. The woman already has 2.5 refrigerators and a large freezer full of frozen chicken wings and Swedish meatballs just waiting for the right occasion. When I finally purchased spray cheese late last week, I knew the transformation was complete.
Despite learning my chemistry lessons the hard way (who knew that lemon Jell-O shots and Lime Sherbet Rum Punch don't mix?) I began my second year in D-Town by planting my first vegetable garden. God only knows what will survive but I plan to nurture it and cheer it on best I can. If staring and hovering is what it needs from me than they should all be fine.
Finally, near the end of the day, I decided that enough was enough and treated myself to some emotional closure. I finally sent that gol' dern thank you note to MonkMan, letting him know my joy in living here. It had become a mantra of sorts for me, "Gonna send that fucker a thank you card!" I'd say whenever a new discovery presented itself. His warm response offered sincere gratitude and heartfelt apology. One door closes and another opens - and this one has a better view.