He whispered “you’re ridiculous” exactly as he had a thousand times before…just not recently. As each of those words bounced off of my memories of his crooked smile, his bright eyes and the curls in his hair when it got too long,  I felt again, exactly as I had year after year after year. Comfortable.  Calm.  Happy.

He said, “can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“When we’re old or whatever, what moment will you remember us by?  or how will you?”

And I said, “this one.  or the one where you showed up to take me to breakfast with coffee in hand, exactly how you knew I liked it–black.  Or the one when we were singing in the car at the top of our lungs.  Maybe a moment we don’t know yet, I guess I don’t know.”

And then I asked him the same question.

And he said, “There was one time, we were watching a movie.  And you fell asleep so I grabbed the blanket and covered you up.  I kissed you on the forehead.”

I think about the entire state that lies between us while I sit here, in his socks that I swore I would throw away…  How would I tell him.  I have to tell him. I think I decided in that very moment that I have to tell him…and I will.

I can’t wait to go home for Christmas.  To take a break from work for six entire days.  To see my friends and my family.  I can’t wait to drink lots of wine and play lots of cribbage and soak in the cinnamon and loud conversations and ridiculous nuances that the family has nearly perfected. 

I also can’t stop listening to this : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8dQrrkqLbg&feature=related

Sunday.

Snowstorm.

Mimosas.

Love Actually.

Sweats.

Homemade Veggie soup.

Nap.

“There aren’t enough of them,” I said as we stopped below the dimly lit street light.

He looked at me confused as we weren’t counting anything and we didn’t need anything and we weren’t in search of anything aside from a nice evening and enough wine to make our blood warm. Because it’s a cold night in Colorado. And it seemed like a good idea. 

I smiled at his perplexed stare.

His eyelashes sentenced stray snowflakes to a stay in limbo.

And I watched as one melted on the tip of his nose.

“The nights are too short,” I said. ” And soon enough we will have to sleep and get up and do it all over again.  And I don’t want to.  I just want to be here, watching the snow fall and the moments pass and the wine.”  Yes, the wine. Find the wine.

And then he looked at me and said, “you’re sweet.  And you’re right.  There aren’t enough minutes.”

And I laughed to myself, because I was talking about the snowflakes.

I was so excited to get home tonight.  I couldn’t wait to get out of traffic that doubled the length of my evening commute.  Watching the red tail-lights stacking upon each other much like flourescent dominos, I nearly lost my mind for the 45 minutes i sat, going 6 miles an hour. I was looking forward to a nice big glass of the German Reisling the company is unveiling come the new year of which I had a sample bottle in the fridge.  I couldn’t wait to unwind, breathe deeply, and go to bed early.

When I came in to the kitchen tonight to heat up the soup my friend (who doesn’t think I eat a balanced enough diet and so provides that which she approves of at least once a week) brought me today, I noticed the green envelope on the counter with very familiar handwriting on it.  Anyone who knows me knows I love mail.  Especially unexpected mail. 

And the card was beautiful.  My friend Tiff sent me this great note.  The art on the card was divine, but the story on its cover was even better.  It said ” she packed up her potential and all she had learned, grabbed a cute pair of shoes and headed out to change a few things…Her heart glowed with a degree of happy assurance.”

This card and the sweet note inside made my night. It made me so, so  happy. I have missed my old friends so deeply since I made this move and taken on this new life.  To have sweet reminders of why I am so grateful for them is one of the greatest things.

I am happily assured.  I am still learning what I love and what I want out of my still newborn, not even crawling yet, really, Denver existence.  I know I miss my friends and sometimes I am lonely, looking for the right relationships…but when it comes down to it, I think I am on the right track to build.  I have a great foundation including one of my best friends in the world whom I have known for years and the others I have met–the ones who have adopted me right into their circles, families, traditions.

It’s a good life.  And  against the Christmas spirit glowing in our house, I am reminded…and it’s so, so sweet.

The Christmas lights are sprouting up in the neighborhoods across my sweet city.  The oranges and browns are being closeted and then replaced by the reds, silvers and whites of the next holiday, invoking a new spirit among those living in and around.  The early darkness doesn’t seem so stifling when backlit by these new sprinkles.

Today, as I spent those hours at the coffee house drinking my vanilla latte and listening to the conversations happening around me, I felt content.  At ease.  Peaceful. The employees were putting up decorations and listening to Christmas music. The couple trying to keep their toddler quiet, yet entertained.  The highschool girls studying for their exam.  The two women who had been friends forever, chatting about husbands, lives lived, and time passed since they’d last seen each other. 

I came home.  Poured a glass of red.  Got out the lights.

It was a good day.  As they usually are, in December.

I knew when I moved out of state that I’d be making sacrifices.  I’d be sacrificing relationships, comfort, rent rates and the morning commute.

When it came to sacrificing relationships, I guess I didn’t acknowledge the affect of sacrificing time with my family-with my sister and her girls.  I didn’t forsee how much that would impact my life–my new life here in CO. 

I’m not “alone” for Thanksgiving–not at all.  I have great friends and this incredible family that I’ve built around me in the last five or six months.  These people have scooped me up and filled my holiday weekend with plans that I’m very much looking forward to. I have lovely relationships and people who make me laugh and realize the positive even when I don’t want to.  But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I want to be in Iowa right now.  Prepping for the holidays.  Thinking about the amount of food that will be consumed in good company tomorrow, right along with the incredible amounts of wine and many, many games of cribbage.  I miss them.  I miss my family.  Terribly.  I mean seriously, look at those sweet babies!!!!  I just want to eat their little cheeks!!

So here I sit, missing them, but enjoying a great glass of Italian red, looking forward to tomorrow and the race I’m running in the morning as well as the mimosa party afterwards and the afternoon/evening spent eating, drinking, napping and watching football–it is what it is–it’s Thanksgiving, and don’t think for a moment that I have lost sight of that which I am thankful for.

I know it doesn’t seem possible, but I am, in fact, still alive.  I didn’t fall off a mountain or walk into interstate traffic or get robbed and killed in my new neighborhood that grandpa thinks is just a little “scary.”  It’s not scary at all, really, it’s urban. And there is graffiti. My garage has been tagged wtih the word “mafia“–not by the mafia, I am sure, but likely by a couple of 15 year old boys whose parents didn’t pay enough attention to them  or hug them enough during their most formidable years. They run around with spray paint–it doesn’t automatically mean they’re going to knife me in my alley or that people sell drugs out of their backpacks on my street corner.

The point is, I’m alive and as much as is possible, I would like to come back to this blog.  I’ve got stories.  Many of them.  To tell to all of you.  Funny thing is, I can’t tell them if I don’t write them and you can’t read them if I don’t write them and so this level of communication that we long ago established gets completely fucked up if I don’t put forth the effort. 

So, I have a good four months to catch you all up on.  Four really, really busy months. Lots of random tales of my new life as a Coloradan…  I’ll give you the short of it: wine, new friends, Rockies Games, beers, tears, BBQs, sun, wine, smoothies, mountains, camping, hiking 14-ers, old men, traveling to Las Vegas–twice, gin & tonics,  anxiety attacks healed by wine, loving the job but working my ass off, bike rides, slumber parties, cab rides, trips to Vail, Thirsty Thursdays, out of town visitors, Elk heads, ass grabs, Avalanche games, and lots and lots of laughter. 

Looking forward to being back!

I haven’t posted in a month. It’s not because I haven’t wanted to, because I have wanted to. The thing is, is that since I’ve last posted, TONS has happened.

I officially ended my last job–turned in the keys and said goodbye to my dear friends and my desk and the doors I walked through nearly every single day for 2 years. The place I spent up to what, 14 hours a day in? It was a hard goodbye. And then, the day after I left the job at the alma mater, I got a new niece! Harper Grace was born and so I extended my trip to Iowa a few days and got to spend a couple of days with the family before flying back to Colorado on Friday night. The next day, Saturday, we moved into our new idyllic house which I am absolutely in LOVE with. Tuesday I interviewed for a job, Tuesday they offered me the job, Wednesday I started the job! It all happened REALLY fast!

The job=wonderful. The commute=terrible. The only thing that pulls me out of the funk known as my evening commute is waking up the next day and watching the mountains on the drive in, and the view out the picture windows of the “office” I work out of (read as: my bosses amazing house’s basement for the next two weeks until we move into a much larger, more suitable environment!) I work with some great people–they’re quite hilarious. I work in the beer industry and all the people I have come into contact with have been super nice. Plus, there is free booze involved, which saves me some money!! It’s been busy and I think it, much like my last job, will turn into a labor of love–where you put in the time and the work, but eventually you can see something tangible from all the hours you put in.

On top of the logistical stuff, there’s been really fun stuff happening, too! I’ve met some awesome people and some not awesome people (I have to say, the best people are the ones I meet that are from the homeland–go Iowa!!!!:) ). I’ve had great conversations and good wine. There’s been volleyball in the park, BBQs, evenings out downtown, lots of bikerides and pizza from the place around the corner, afternoons spent meandering the hippie streets of Boulder and perusing the used bookstores for the latest best finds. Tomorrow we’re going to Jazz in the Park at City Park, and on Monday we’re going to see Office Space on the side of a mountain out at Red Rocks.

There is, however, one HUGE downfall: I miss my friends and family terribly. Hey, you, go book a ticket and come visit, there’s SO much I want to show you!!!!!

But being busy isn’t why I haven’t posted in 17 years. No, there’s always time for blogging, but the one thing neccessary to do so…internet! There’s no internet at the new house and I’m not sure we will be getting any. So for now, you are stuck with these sporadic blogs birthed from a few free minutes to sneak to the library. See you soon, I hope!

It’sbeen kindof a whirlwind. I have spent the last week and a half searching for jobs, interviewing, trying to get settled, learning the city, sunbathing, and packing to come back to Iowa to finish up the job. In the mean time, I got a great tan, spent some time wishing death upon myself as the alititude took hold on top of the first mountain I climbed hiking, had a few vodka smoothies, played some tennis and drank a case of wine with the new roomie. 

We move into our new adorable little place in about a week and a half, so hopefully she does some major packing while I’m away.  I was originally slated to go back to Colorado on Tuesday, but the older sibling is being induced on Wednesday, so I decided that it would be ridiculous to miss the birth of the baby by a day, thus I rescheduled the flight and am now going back to Denver on Friday. We move the next day. It’s going to be crazy.

But probably not as crazy as the debocle of me trying to get home yesterday.

To get from Denver to Des Moines, you have to take a detour to Phoenix.  Fine, you got it.  But don’t take a detour in Phoenix where you have to change terminals and airlines.  Because if you do that, with less than an hour to spare, you will find yourself waiting impatiently for the airport bus and getting really irritated waiting in line for the one agent they have to serve 5,659 people. 

Thankfully, I made friends with the nice woman who was heading to Detroit. I think her name was Diane.  Anyway, Diane’s flight was leaving 10 minutes after mine.  She was right ahead of me to get our tickets, and then was way ahead of me when I got to security.  When she saw me at the back of the line, she took pity on me, acted as though we were together, and invited me to jump in with her about 20 people ahead of where I was.  Thank you Diane. 

The line still took about 28 minutes, and I had only 32 to make my flight.  After getting my ID checked, I begged 5 men in the security line to let me go ahead of them, I graciously thanked them, got my arse through security, grabbed my things and took off running sans shoes to my gate.  I got there just as the last person was boarding.  My toe was bleeding, I couldn’t breathe, I had sweat dripping down my back.  I was so attractive.

But I made it.  And I’m here. Sleeping on couches.  Living out of a suitcase.  Praying for sleep.