There's Getting Dumped & Then There's Getting Erased

    Ah, Valentine's Day, the one day a year that florists, chocolatiers, and greeting card manufacturers (not to mention restaurants, independent high-class and so-so class chain joints alike) all rejoice in the sudden swelling of their coffers.

   Not to put too much of a cynical spin on it.

   There are millions and millions of people all over the world (something like a hundred countries celebrate some version of Valentine's Day - in Latin America, it's known as Dia del Amor y la Amistad) expressing their affections towards someone on Valentine's Day. 

   With so much participation around the globe, one is somewhat forced to lend it some credence as a bonafide celebration of romantic love, eh?

   However, there are those who disdain the blatant commercialization and abhor the societal pressure that is placed upon individuals to flamboyantly display/express their affections towards their mate/significant other/sorta serious friend/frequent but casual hook-up. 

   And then there are those who are not involved with another on any interpersonal level whatsoever, romantic, casual, or pay-as-you-go. Those people really have it rough (that is, according to the small sample of my circle of friends and acquaintances who fit into that demographic they do - heck, according to most of them it's the worst day of the year, period). 

   Those people are fairly vociferous about how much they despise the holiday.

    The ones who have it even worse than them though? Gotta be those who have recently gone through a break-up, amiable, amicable, or otherwise. Even if the break-up was a long time coming, the first Valentine's Day afterward has got to be just a little more than irksome.

    Especially if the end of the relationship was so bad one or the other parties involved had to take a chisel to the initial that was preserved with their partners in cement, encircled by a heart as a statement of their eternal devotion.

   Sometimes even being etched in stone isn't a guarantee.

Warm Winter Afternoon Hike

    Unusually Warm Winter for the Denver area this year. No complaints from me though, makes taking an afternoon hike much more pleasant.

The Texan Who Relocated To Colorado But Still Misses Home

 

   Cannot decide which is funnier, the steer horns mounted on the hood or the placard hanging from the rearview mirror.

   I suppose it doesn't matter, because whoever is driving this car is definitely winning.

The Unwelcome Confession

   Carter sat on the bench in an awkward slouch, his physical misalignment quite in line with his current emotional state.

   In short, not good.

   For perhaps the 25th or 26th time that evening he recounted to himself exactly what had transpired between him and Yolie the day before, and for the 25th or 26th time that evening he found himself unable to accept that last thing she had told him.

   They had met a scant 8 weeks ago while standing in line to see the latest and greatest iteration of a reformed '90's band. She had liked his shirt and he replied that he like hers.

   That's all it took to spark a mutual attraction that led to an exchange of phone numbers and 14 dates over the past two months.

   Date 15 was yesterday. That date was far more intimate than any of the previous 14 - far more intimate than the long, lingering kisses and full body caresses that had evolved from the awkward hug goodnight of the first date.

   The conversation afterward was as far more intimate as the physical intimacy had been. Far more intimate and far more revealing.

   It was during that intimate conversation, when both of them were sharing details about past relationships, that Yolie stated rather flatly that she had only ever been involved in what could be regarded as an affair once, and it was over 25 years ago when she was still in high school, and she wasn't the married one, so really, it shouldn't even matter.

   Her stating that she was in high school when it happened, and that she wasn't married but he was, both made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and piqued his curiosity.

   So he asked a question that, once it escaped his lips, he knew he shouldn't of.

   He asked, "You were in high school and he was a married man? How did that happen?"

   And she told him how it happened, in the same flat manner that she had casually mentioned it.

   She was 15. He was her 35-year-old tennis coach. She had a crush on him that drove her crazy. She flirted with him incessantly when they were alone together. She said she knew he was playing coy when he told her several times that what she was doing was inappropriate, and she was certain he wanted her as much as she wanted him. 

   So she persisted, wearing tight polo shirts with all three buttons undone to expose her ample cleavage, and the shortest tennis skirt she could get away with. She smiled seductively and licked her lips as she bent forward toward him when he was feeding tennis balls into the hopper of the ball launcher, and made it a point to always bend over to pick up a tennis ball or two with her back to him.

  She stated that she did everything she could for at least two months to get him to make a move for her before deciding to take a step that she now "somewhat, sort of" regretted. 

   With a chilling tone Yolie said she told her married tennis coach that if he did not start responding to her as she wanted him to, she would tell his wife that he had. 

   That, she said, was when he came around to her way of thinking and they started a very passionate affair that lasted for almost a year, until he and his family moved when he took a job in Florida.

   She had been tempted to follow him to Florida, but changed her mind once she met her first serious boyfriend at the fast food restaurant where they both worked.

   Carter then asked the second question of the night that once he asked it he knew he shouldn't have.

   He asked, "Do you ever think about how much danger you put him in - he could have gone to jail for that, you know, and no doubt would have lost his wife and family."

   Yolie had laughed a little when Carter asked that question, and her curt reply of  "Oh come on, we just were having a little fun and nobody got hurt, don't go all prudish on me now!" had turned his stomach.

   That was the point when Carter got up out of the bed they were sharing and started to get dressed. She asked where he was going and he told her he had to leave and do some thinking. He finished dressing as she sat upright on the bed staring at him, and he walked down the hall and out the door without another word.

   Carter straightened out a little on the bench, his left leg having developed a little numbness. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on his knee. 

   He knew there was no way he could accept her cavalier attitude about the affair, it just wasn't possible. She confessed to seducing a married man 20 years her senior when she was in high school, a man who, as her high school tennis coach, would have legally been regarded as being in a position of trust and would therefore have been criminally liable for abusing that position.

   Criminally liable, which in this state and at that time would have meant he would have gone to jail for a minimum of 5 years, and would have had a lifetime afterwards of having to register as a known sex offender.

   And she only "somewhat, sort of" regretted how she went about it.

  

   

Anchorage In February, 1990

The sun began to crack the horizon a little earlier each day

By the end of the month there would be almost six full hours of daylight

Not enough to melt the parking lot glaciers

But in the afternoons the sun dogs would start dancing

Anchorage in February, 1990

The Coolest Thing(s) I Saw Today

   Right off I-25 southbound at the Cimarron (Colorado 24 westbound) exit...well, about two blocks up Colorado 24 westbound, on your right.

Buffalo Roaming

 

                                             Lou Wille's sculpture in Grand Junction, Colorado

Sometimes You Just Have To Force Yourself To Do Something, Anything

   If there is one thing my experiences with myriad other creative souls has taught me, it is that there is very little that creative souls agree upon. 

   There is an amazing amount of disagreement about what is and what is not  "creativity", and what is really an art form, or what is truly an artistic endeavour.

   One creative's art is often another creative's unaesthetic garbage.

   However, there's is one little thing that I have found that every single creative I have ever met has agreed upon, and that is:

   When you're not feeling it, you're not feeling it, and the best way out of that miasma is to just work it out.

Subaru Cleared For Take Off

 

   Is there anything worse than driving along a highway doing 75 mph and being anywhere near this guy?

   I mean, sure, it could be a logging truck with a full load of fresh cut trees, but man, that mattress and foundation are either going to fly off the top of that Subaru, or that Subaru is going to take flight.

Lullaby For The Part-Time Neurotic

Staring into space and thinking aloud

Maybe, maybe

Somewhat of a tendency to go on

And on and on and on

About things not worth mentioning

Once

For much, much longer than necessary

Seconds becoming minutes that feel like hours

Repeated, repeatedly

Dull stories that have only grown duller

With no limit to the trivial knowledge

Of anything and everything trivial

Two Ladies At The Park

   The loud argumentative voices were just around the corner. Trees and shrubs on either side of the path blocked my view of who it was that was having the argument, but from the sound and tone ringing out in the otherwise peaceful environment of the park, it was two women having quite the disagreement.

   As I made my way around the bend I could see one of the women involved in the rather heated discussion, and she was holding a dog leash that was taut, and in a few more steps I saw the reason the rope was so as her dog, a mid-sized retriever, was jumping excitedly towards another two dogs, one that was on a leash that was similarly taut, and one that was unleashed.

   Both of those dogs appeared to belong to a second woman, who was holding the leash of the second dog I had seen, a small Australian Shepherd, with her left hand and in her right she held one of those flexible plastic ball flinging sticks that allows people to toss tennis balls twenty yards or so without much effort.

   As I closed the gap between myself and the two quarrelling women I began to make out what was being shouted by both of the shouters.

   The woman with the ball flinging stick was repeatedly yelling at the woman with the mid-sized retriever to leave her alone, to mind her own business and that she wasn't harming anyone.

   The woman with the mid-sized retriever was yelling right back at her that the park had signs posted everywhere that stated all dogs must be leashed at all times while in the park, and that ball flinging stick lady should take her dogs down to a park a few miles down the road that allowed dogs off leash if she wanted to play fetch with them.

   Ball flinging stick lady seemed to increase the aggressiveness with which she repeatedly shouted that what she did in the park with her dogs was her business, and that the other woman should take her dog to another park if she didn't like it.

   At this point I began to slow down my strident pace a little, because one, I didn't know if I should sidestep the arguing women by darting around them through a clearing that I was approaching on my left and two, I was caught up in the action of the argument and had half a mind to pull out my phone and start filming.

   Then the mid-sized retriever lady yelled something that pretty much won the argument for her, at least to me she did.

   She yelled, "Stop telling me it isn't my business that you have your dog off leash and are playing fetch in this park. It is my business. There is a small lake right over there and a lot of migrating birds are in this park. The reason those signs stating that all dogs must be leashed in the park is because unleashed dogs have attacked and killed quite a few of those birds  - if people don't keep their dogs leashed and more birds get killed, they'll ban dogs from the park altogether and I like to walk my dog in this park! If you want me to call an animal control officer to explain that to you and write you a ticket, I'll do that now (the mid-sized retriever lady was pulling out her phone with her left hand as she yelled that) or you could just be a responsible adult dog owner and take your dogs down to the park that allows them off leash - there's no lake or birds there!"

   The ball flinging stick lady then caught sight of me coming up the path and looked at the other woman with an expression of pained embarrassment. The mid-sized retriever lady turned and looked at me approaching as well. Both of the women took steps off the path as I grew closer, and ball flinging stick lady called her other dog, the one off leash, to come to her.

   I walked between them with as casual and disinterested an air as I could muster. I weighed whether or not I should pipe up with "She's right, you need to take those dogs to the off leash park to play fetch." as I passed, but being as how ball flinging stick lady was putting her unleashed dog back on the leash, it clearly would have been unnecessary for me to do so.

   It was another thirty or so steps before I was once again beyond hearing if anything more was said between the two women, no matter how hard I strained my ears.

   

Marvin G. Hurd, April 1954 - January 2026

    Marv Hurd passed away 11 days ago, and for 11 days I have not been able to write about it. 

   I suppose that's primarily due to a little shock and disbelief on my part. One evening I'm enjoying tacos and trivia with the man and the very next day I'm told he has died.

   Pretty difficult to wrap my brain around that.

   I had known Marv for nearly twenty years and I can state unequivocally that there was never a time when I didn't enjoy being around him.

   He possessed the odd ability to be as cranky as all get out and as generous as Saint Nicholas, sometimes at the same exact moment, which caught a lot of people off guard but kept me both amazed and puzzled. I mean, he could never suffer fools, not for a minute, but he was never one to excise a person from his life, no matter how much he didn't like an aspect or two of their demeanor or behavior.

   And being part of Marvs circle of friends was a fun, adventurous thing. Years ago, when I first met him, he and his wife Deb and daughters E & B hosted an annual end of summer crawfish/seafood boil that was attended by close to a 100 friends, if not more - it was an exceptionally good time.

   He and his wife also welcomed friends to stay at their Condo down in PV for up to a week at a time, and they were gracious hosts there, taking people for tours of the city and the bay, and introducing their guests to great restaurants and nightspots that were virtually unknown to the average tourists.

   Marv was also one of the few self-made men I've known over the years who was truly self-made. He dropped out of school before finishing the 10th grade and went to work in the gruelling construction field, working his way up from general laborer to owner and operator of his own successful concrete business.

   Along the way he married Deb, a union that lasted from the day of their wedding until his untimely passing. They built and enjoyed an adventurous life together, bringing two daughters into the world and making hundreds of friends and very few enemies, if any.

   I miss Marv, and I imagine a part of me always will.

   

 

Need A Home? We Will Pay The Freight!

 

   My affection for vintage magazine advertisements knows no bounds - so much so that whenever I have the opportunity to purchase old magazines or newspapers cheap, I jump on it. The other day I picked up a few copies of The Country Gentleman that were published in 1924 & 1925 (billed at the time as The Oldest Agricultural Journal In The World).

   I found this gem of an advertisement in the March 14 1925 issue (at the time it was five cents the copy, or one dollar for the year). 

   $580.00 for a complete four room home with bath and a front porch. Delivered to any location east of the Mississippi river and north of the Mason-Dixon line. Includes all lumber, millwork, roofing, lath, hardware, & nails. 

   Foundation and windows must have been extra.

   Still, quite the bargain.

The Curious Relationship Dynamic Of Viviane and Orlando

    After they moved in together, it seemed that they started arguing about everything.

   Though not about what most people would consider issues that were worth fighting over, like budgeting or household cleaning responsibilities - they readily agreed on adhering strictly to a budget, and the division of chores was solved when they agreed to just do everything that needs to be done as a team.

  No, their arguments weren't caused by what most couples considered the big issues. They argued over small things, genuinely insignificant matters - a disinterested observer might get the impression that both of them appeared to actually look for small issues to fight about, and the smaller the better.

   Just about anything seemed to be fair game, from how to make the bed to what side of the sink the dishes should be washed or rinsed in.

   One would assume the sink dish washing issue would have ended once they bought a dishwasher, but the new dishwasher just led to a rather heated (and loud, much to the upstairs neighbors duress) argument about how to properly load the dishwasher.

   The thing was, none of the arguments seemed to have any effect on their ardour for one another. Quite the contrary, after an hour or so of small arguments, they both would invariably (and suddenly) just shut down for a few minutes and take a few quiet, deep breaths, then impetuously (and with a vehement mutual passion) throw themselves at each other until they were disturbing the upstairs neighbors with noises of an entirely different nature.

Reason #206 To Love Costco (& Costco Employees)

   It all began on Christmas Eve. 

   Generally speaking I make shopping for Christmas presents a year-long affair. Whenever I'm out and about and come across something that I think a member of my gift exchange circle of family and friends would like, I buy it and take it home for storage until Christmas rolls around.

   Incidentally, not all of my family and friends exchange gifts, but those that do, well, we are all part of a gift exchange circle. Everyone else gets a Holiday greeting card.

   Back to Christmas Eve. I had a few friends and associates that I did not manage to procure a gift for during the course of the year, so I had to pay a visit to that vast palace of last resort gifts known as Costco.

   If anything, Costco has it's finger on the pulse of what people need or want or at least could use that would make for a nice gift.

   So there I was on the afternoon of the 24th, shopping away. A couple of bottles of fine wine (Costco has a great selection of fine wines - try the Caymus 50th Anniversary Cab, it's like drinking silk), a few small household items, two bouquets of flowers (for two separate get-togethers that night) and of course, the penultimate in last-minute Christmas gifts, gift cards (for oil changes, dining, and movie theaters).

   The checkout line was long but the wait allowed for a visual inspection of what other last-minute gifts were being bought - a lot of large screen televisions were going out the doors that day.

   An hour later I was at home and wrapping the last minute gifts. I had plenty of large boxes for the gift cards, and a few large scraps of 2 X 6 lumber and packing peanuts to add to the boxes for additional heft - and yeah, I'm the kind of guy that does that sort of thing.

   After getting everything wrapped I sorted the gifts - there was a small pile of gifts that were to be delivered, and a larger pile of gifts that would be opened at my house.

   It was then when I realised I was missing a gift, or rather, a gift card. I pulled the receipt out of my wallet (yeah, I'm a receipt keeper - how the heck else can one reconcile budget with expenses without keeping receipts?) and carefully went over the items...the purchase of the gift card was listed, so I figured I must have left it in the car, easy enough to do with such a small item.

   Back out to the car for a quick look-see. Huh. Cursory examination of the cargo area and rear seats revealed...nada. A more thorough search (under the drivers and front passenger seats, in the little side pockets of the doors, between the seats, in the crevice between the seats and seat backs, the glove compartment, the little secondary glove compartment below the main glove compartment, the center consoles, in the magazine-sized pockets attached to the rear of the drivers and front passenger seats (airplane style)...and still nothing.

   Carefully I retraced my steps for every trip I made from the car to the house to the area I wrapped all the gifts in, and to the areas/cabinets in the kitchen that I put items I purchased for household use/consumption in or on...still nothing.

   Being as I had to get going to a couple of Christmas Eve gatherings, I decided to forestall any further searching until the next day. I felt confident that the missing gift card was somewhere in the house, probably in the guest bedroom that is used as gift wrapping central.

   Christmas morning being what it is meant that I was not able to resume the search until later in the afternoon. I searched everywhere in the guest bedroom, and even the car again, for good measure. 

   Without finding the dang gift card. I know I made the purchase, heck, I had the receipt. It had to be somewhere.

   The intended recipient of the gift came over to the house as I was quietly fuming. After initial Christmas greetings and exchanging of gifts (her husband's and son's gifts) I had to sheepishly confess that I had bought her a gift but I had misplaced it somewhere, and I promised I would get it to her as soon as I could.

   She was her usual wonderfully gracious self and told me it was not a big deal, no worries, whenever it pops up will be fine, don't go out of your way or fret over it...yeah, I felt like an idjit.

   A few days pass and I decide to search the car again. The rear seats pitch forward to allow for more cargo space, so maybe the gift card managed to fall behind one on the seats and into the little tub underneath the cargo cover where the spare tire is stored. 

   Nope. Not there either.

   The next day (New Years Eve) I decide to search the gift wrapping area again. I literally remove everything but the guest bed itself from the room and find...nothing, except a biography of James Madison I'd been meaning to read that I thought I'd left in Fort Dodge last summer.

   Another couple of days pass and I get the idea that it was possible, but maybe not probable, that I did not actually take the gift card with me when I left the Costco. It was one of those gift card dealios for a movie theater chain (Alamo Drafthouse) that was actually four gift cards with a value of $25.00 each, and to get the cards you had to take the receipt for the purchase over to a general merchandise window where a Costco associate hands them over.

   Well, it was Christmas Eve when I made the purchase, and there were a lot of people at the Costco (it was the one in Superior, which is one of my top ten Costco locations). There were a number of people picking up items at the general merchandise window (Jewelry mostly) and the general merchandise window was right next to the food court, and I might have been distracted sufficiently that I just plain forgot to get the gift card and walked out with nary a second thought.

   Maybe it was still there, and there had been an inventory/purchases reconciliation done at the end of the month, and an extra gift card for the Alamo Drafthouse was found and they had held onto it, waiting for me to return after realising I had forgot to pick it up.

   It was possible, but not probable. I've been shopping at Costco since the early 1980's when it was Price Club on Morena Blvd in San Diego, back when I was attending Mesa CC. I have shopped at Costcos from Anchorage (when it was Price Costco in the early years of the merger) to Glasgow, and I have never left an item behind, it's just not in my nature to be so careless.

   Heck, shares in Costco were the first stock purchase I ever made.

   As luck would have it I had to drive up to Boulder this past Sunday, and the Superior Costco location is right on the way, just off the 36 at McCaslin. I took the receipt for the Christmas Eve purchases with me and after finishing up my errand in Boulder, stopped in at the Costco.

   Entering the store I somewhat sheepishly explained to the associate at the returns counter what I thought had transpired on Christmas Eve. She politely directed me to the managers on duty over near the general merchandise window, as they would be the ones that would be able to assist me with my particular situation.

   Theresa was the manager who I explained the situation to, and instead of laughing her head off after I got done telling her the whole story, she asked me to wait while she went into a small back room.

   After about 5 minutes she came back, had a short conversation with another manager (I cannot for the life of me remember his name, but he was a very nice guy), and then told me again she would be right back. The second manager did ask me to confirm that what I thought I'd left behind was gift cards for the Alamo Drafthouse, which I did. 

   Theresa came back after speaking with the third associate briefly, and politely explained to me that they did have the gift cards I purchased there, but it wasn't a case of me getting distracted by all the Christmas Eve commotion that had resulted in the gift cards being left behind, rather it was me leaving them in the shopping cart in the parking lot. 

   I was momentarily dumbfounded. I stared at the gift cards as she handed them to me and repeated what she had said to me, and added that it was incredible that someone had found the gift cards in a shopping cart in the parking lot and returned them to the store.

   Theresa explained to me that items get left behind in carts everyday and she was happy to be able to reunite customers' with purchases they thought were lost forever.

   To say I was elated is a huge understatement. I walked through the Costco (had to get a few items, of course) as happy as the happiest of clams. .

   I couldn't help telling everybody I ran into over the course of the day the story of the lost gift cards and their return, it was that compelling (to my cynical a**, that slice of honesty and goodwill has got to be fairly rare).

   When I got home I wrapped up the gift cards in a big box (with some 2 X 6 scraps and packing peanuts, natch') and placed the present under the tree (still up for another week at least). KH came over that evening and I was happy to be able to hand her the gift.