When honesty is stupid

I've been remodeling around the house, currently focusing on moving my office from a dark, cramped room to a larger, sunnier room. Along the way, I bought a computer cart from Target on sale. A couple of weeks ago, I decided I wouldn't need the cart in the new space. I hunted down the receipt and took it back along with some other items to return.

Ends up the receipt expired about two weeks ago (about the time I decided I didn't need it). The item is still in stock but with an expired receipt, it's the same as no receipt. So the only thing they could do is to let me exchange it for an item the same price or higher. It had to be one item and out of the same department.

So I hunted through domestics to find an item I needed/wanted that was $32 or more. I came upon an entry way shoe bench for $39.99. So here's the stupid part. They considered my exchange "no receipt" but I pointed out that I had purchased the cart on sale for $32. The original price was $39.99. So I paid the difference between the sale price for the cart and the new price for the bench. Had I kept my honest but stupid mouth shut, it would have been a straight across exchange.

Sigh. So for that honesty, Karma, please keep me in mind!!

and now, here's Duke Gary Winston!

My second newest nephew arrived on September 9. I wrote in a previous blog that my youngest sister lost her dog, Gunner, to cancer in August. She and her husband were looking for another German Shorthair but this time a younger pup. She had been scouring Petfinder.com and found a 5 month old at the Denver Municipal Animal Shelter. Since they live in Albuquerque, she emailed me Friday afternoon to go check him out. I wrote back, "you realize I won't leave the shelter without him, are you ready for a puppy?" She said, check him out and call me.

So Saturday morning, September 9, we drove down to the shelter. I made Mark walk in first and find the dog from the tags on the front of the cages then I walked in with my eyes shielded so I wouldn't look at anyone else. Shelters are good to help adopt out pups but I hate them at the same time. I want to take everyone home.

A volunteer came over to ask if we’d like to take him into the bonding room, and we did. I called Sara on the phone as the pup licked me from head to toe. He is a gorgeous chocolate brown with the white and black spots on his underside. His disposition was fantastic – a lot of energy but normal for a pup. He was about half the size he'll be as an adult. I knew immediately he was my new nephew. Over the phone, Aaron asked if he looked like a "Gary," I replied "no, he looks like a Winston."

We went back to the front desk to make arrangements only to find out he had to be fixed first before he could be released to us. This was a minor issue - I really wanted to get him out of the shelter and at the same time, that weekend was more convenient for Sara and Aaron to get him. As I discussed it on the phone with Sara, a volunteer mentioned that because he had a cough I detected earlier, he might be able to be released without being neutered first.

The woman at the front desk was the biggest … well you add your choice of words there. She was not willing to bend at all. So we asked to chat with the vet. She snapped that he wasn’t in until later that afternoon. Fine, we said, we'll call. She threatened that if someone else looked at the pup and wanted him, then we'd lose him. I said, nope we're taking him no matter what and put down the $35 adoption fee with a receipt.

Drove back home and waited until 2:30. Getting through to the shelter is a challenge since it goes through the city of Denver system. Several times no one answered, I was put on hold and then disconnected -- only to find out the vet wasn't in yet. Finally after being very persistent (I am sure Ms. You Know What was responsible for disconnecting me several times), I was able to chat with the vet. He had examined the pup and decided that the pup should be immediately removed from the shelter and told us he would release him to us that day.

So we called Sara and Aaron, who were waiting by the phone to jump in their car (as they could not wait to get him, plus wanted to go up to see new baby Ezra). We jumped in our car and headed back down to the shelter.

We walked in the door, and Ms. YKW looked at us and started yelling at the other girl, “did he tell you anything? He didn’t tell me anything” and buzzed the vet. Her feathers were very ruffled that we had succeeded in doing what we wanted and not what she wanted. The vet came up and handed her a sheet of paper, "here's the release notes." She snapped back, "I don't type." The other girl quietly took the form. We signed it stating that we would have him fixed by October 9, slipped a harness on him and took him out the door.

He was hesitant at first to get in the car —probably since the last trip brought him to the awful shelter. We didn’t know what happened to him before.–The Denver Municipal Shelter doesn't get details like the Dumb Friends League, unless he bit someone. All they could tell us was that his previous owner gave him up. We knew from his demeanor that he had not been abused but for whatever reason, the previous owner couldn't keep him. Maybe he required too much space and lived in an apartment. Maybe he was too much of a puppy. Maybe the owner had to move.

He slept with his head on my lap most of the way home – he had been given drugs for the kennel cough which made him drowsy. Once home, he was very excited to see everything. We kept him gated in the kitchen and the girls in the living room because of the cough -- even though they're vaccinated, I wasn't sure what kind of cough it was. He was curious about everything and was really funny when Toby the cat came up to greet him -- apparently the first time he'd met a cat. He is smart and learned the stairs quickly -- something he should teach his cousin Sarah-Dog, who after six years in my house is still very afraid of the stairs.

We had him for about 7 hours before Sara and Aaron arrived from Albuquerque. We fell in love with him and were tempted to turn out all the lights and pretend we weren't home. But I know Sara and Aaron are dog people like me and had a big hole in their hearts to fill. Their other pup Mollie (an English Pointer) was lonely and missing her buddy. When they arrived they were still wondering what to call him. It took a few days for them to decide on a name so I called him Duke Gary Winston a combo of the ideas. They decided on Duke. His cough was gone in a couple of days and a week later, he was “tutored.” (Thank you Gary Larson.)
Duke, you will live a spoiled long life!

Welcome to the world Ezra!

In September, I got two new nephews in my life. The first is 5 lb, 2 oz Ezra Paul who arrived a little early but very healthy on September 6. He’s a very mellow and happy baby. My sister had gone in to the hospital the night before with the feeling that something wasn't quite right. They checked things out, found nothing too out of the ordinary but the doc decided to keep her overnight on a monitor. The next morning, she went into labor and an hour into it, they performed an emergency cesarean. Every time Trina had a contraction, Ezra's heartbeat would drop. Ends up the poor little guy had a short umbilical cord. He would have been in trouble had she gone into labor at home. Chalk one up for mother's intuition!

Bon Hiver!

The first snow is falling in my neck of the woods.

Oh! The snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and the earth below,
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of people you meet.
Dancing,
Flirting,
Skimming along,

Beautiful snow! It can do no wrong;
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in frolicksome freak;
Beautiful snow from heaven above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love!

Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go
Whirling about in maddening fun:
Chasing,
Laughing,
Hurrying by.

It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye;
And the dogs with a bark and a bound
Snap at the crystals as they eddy around;
The town is alive, and its heart is aglow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.
(-possibly J.W. Watson)

Pacific Northwest Dreaming

The end of July I did a whirlwind tour of Western Washington state. It’s an annual event for me to visit my W-Dad in Olympia and then meet up with fellow mooseheads in Roslyn. This year I added a couple of other stops.

I arrived at Sea-Tac for some record high temperatures (100+). They even had the highest overnight low temperature while I was there. This is a part of the country not used to high temperatures like that, and needless to say, most are without air-conditioning. My nephew, Nigel was already at my W-Dad's house. He kept trying to put the "air-conditioning" on, which was simple the furnace fan to draw in the cool night air. Only he was trying it during the day while the temps were high.

The first weekend, we went to the Lacey flea market where my Dad’s wife sells potpourri (grown in their yards) and potted plants, and then on to the Lakefair booths. I bought a beautiful necklace and earrings set from a Seattle glass artist. To beat the heat, we took the pups to frolic in Kennedy Creek.

As it finally started to cool down in Olympia, we headed to the north central part of the state to the Bavarian town of Leavenworth. It's a interesting town, even the local McDonalds and Safeway market buildings follow the Bavarian architecture style. All the shops on the main drag are full of flavored taffy, souvenirs, and cuckoo clocks. They all have speakers pumping out Oompah music as you go. The first afternoon we arrived, we wandered among the shops (although the weather was still more than 100 degrees F). So after a little while, headed back to the condo resort for the pool.

The following day, my Dad drove me about an hour south to Roslyn, WA where I met up with my "moose buddies" (fellow Northern Exposure fans). We had a blast as always hanging out at the Brick, seeing Pirates of the Caribbean in the old movie theatre (which used to be a morgue in the coal mining days), to visiting filming sites from the show. "what a time we had ... Splashed through bogs, ate like hogs, slept like logs." I stayed in my favorite B&B, the Huckleberry House Inn in Roslyn.

After the moosefest weekend, a couple of friends and I headed for the Emerald City of Seattle for a whirlwind tour. Since I did the same whirlwind through Seattle last October, I was tour guide. We dropped off our other buddies and the car at Sea-Tac airport and took the Grayline into the city. Our rooms for the night were at the historic Roosevelt Hotel, within walking distance of several things and a nice view from my room of the bay. After we checked in, we were off to Pioneer Square for the Underground Tour. There were a lot more people there in the summer than in the Fall but it was still a lot of fun. The tour guides have a lot of fun with it. After the history of Seattle, we headed for lunch to the same little Mediterranean Mix place I ate at last October. Hey – it was good!

With our bellies filled, we went on a mission to a specific shoe store Jennifer wanted to see. Along the way, we stopped into a native Pacific Northwest gallery filled with many neat things. Unfortunately we arrived at the address of Ped Shoes to find it had closed for good at 6pm the day before! Argh! But we continued on our way to the Pike Place Market for some cinnamon almonds and to watch the end of the day with the fish-tossers. As the shops closed down, we headed down the many, many steps to the waterfront so Jennifer could see the creepy things at Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe, as well as go pirate-wild at Pirates Plunder.

Jennifer was starting to load up with bags and even with Marie and I helping out, decided to take a taxi to the Seattle Center and the needle. This ended up being a good idea since my other option was to walk six blocks up hill to the monorail and unbeknownst to me at the time, the monorail was still closed after a crash last Fall.

We went up the Seattle needle, rested our feet, chatted and watched the sun go down over the city. We caught a taxi back down to the Roosevelt and had a late, late dinner at the hotel restaurant.

The next day, I didn’t have a flight until 8pm but Marie and Jennifer’s were early. Marie was really early and was up before us. I decided to ride in with Jennifer and see about standby on an earlier flight. Jennifer was going through Denver on her way to Boston. I ended up getting on her flight. She wasn't able to get her seat until checking in that day. As we sat there waiting, she complained that she was shoved in the back -- row 34. I looked at her ticket, we were on United and she had a economy plus. I was in row 36 -- an exit row. What the ... what kind of plane has economy plus that far back and an exit at row 36. Ended up we were on a 777 overwater -- normally reserved for Seattle - Tokyo flights. It was brand new and the biggest plane I've flown on so far.

After that whirlwind trip, I was ready for a nap!

Catching up

I've got several over due blogs to post. I'll pop them up as soon as I can.

Hazardous materials

I mailed a book the other day. The usual dialog with the postal clerk involves the question whether the package contains liquids or hazardous materials. Well, definitely no on the liquids. It's a book (which was mentioned since I was sending it media mail). The fluid ink has long dried on the pages. Hazardous. Well, that one could be argued. Maybe the book (a computer software manual) could cause boredom. That might be hazardous. Or perhaps it has bad information. That too might be hazardous. It could cause paper cuts or even a bruise if it was lobbed at someone's head (it's a big book).

Book as hazardous materials. Will further ponder this dilemma.

what he really REALLY said...

Computer analysis proved Neil Armstrong actually said this:
"One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind .... %@#&! what did I just step in??"

Somewhere between Kraft Macaroni Cheese and Cheetos

I really wanted to paint something in my house orange. Over the weekend, I decided on the walk-in closet off my new studio office. The color is Behr's "Orange Spice" but reminds me of the cheese packets that come with Kraft Macaroni or perhaps Cheetos. Painting it burnt my retnas and gave me the munchies.

Dogs on a couch

It's a good thing I work by myself. I might drive my coworkers nuts. My latest fun has been taking the film title "Snakes on a Plane" and changing the nouns. Dogs on a Couch. (snicker). Cats in a Hamper. (snicker snicker). Eggs in a Pan. (I crack myself up).

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. Some fellow mooseheads and I used to do this to a song. It's an infectious little tune from a Northern Exposure episode called "Toy Cows in Africa" by Chance. So we were replacing the lyrics with random things. Spare Rolls of Toliet Paper, Spare Rolls.

It's like an earworm -- a little song that gets stuck in your head. Try it. It's fun. Computers on a Desk. Squirrels on a Fence.

Bats in the Belfry.

In celebration of a short but happy dog life

This past weekend one of my nephews (a two-legged one) tried to come into the world a little too early. Labor was stopped, his mom was pumped with steroids to get his little lungs to be fully cooked, and she was prescribed rest for about another week. So far he’s behaving himself and staying put.

At the same time, another nephew (a four-legged one) left this world for the great doggie Beyond. Gunner was a big, goofy German Shorthair that my youngest sister adopted from the breed rescue. He had been returned twice (once by a prominent, well-known business man/politician in Colorado whom we don't like, mainly because he returned a rescued dog). It may have been because Gunner was not a hunting dog, even though that was he was bred to do. He was a big, loveable couch potato except when it came walks.

Gunner came to my sister and her husband defective. He had tumors. They found this out after he was adopted, but follow the same philosophy that I subscribe: you adopt a four-legged for life. They gave him lots of love and vet treatments. He won out over the tumors then and has had a happy and spoiled three years. But recently a tumor came back -- this time on his liver. It cut off his stomach and he was unable to eat. There was nothing that could be done, and they had to make the heart-wrenching decision to end his pain and suffering and let him go.

Mollie, his English Pointer sister, loved to tease him, but also loved to snuggle with him. The family bought a new home last Fall. The first winter proved the older house was colder than the rental they had before. Gunner made do by sleeping in front of one of the large floor vents in the dining room. Mollie, wanting that same primo spot would pretend to see something of great interest out the large front window. Eventually Gunner would lumber over to see what the fuss was about. Then speedy Mollie would steal his heated spot.

Gunner had a rough life his first several years, but my sister, her husband and Mollie gave him the best three years in the end. They adopted him "as is" and gave him the best life possible. Three years with them was not enough but in return, he gave them lots of stubborn, goofy, happy dogness. We will all miss him dearly.

Snakes vs. Chapstick

The new film, Snakes on a Plane (a good example of “name it exactly what it is”) shows what happens when a cargo of live snakes breaks loose and they slither havoc all over the plane. Seems pretty far-fetched but given recent events since 2001, you have to wonder. Maybe snakes wouldn’t be so bad.

First it was the frightful “Eyelash Curlers on a Plane,” immediately following September 11th. Okay. There was a long list of items you could no longer bring aboard, but eyelash curlers really stuck out to me. Granted I’ve pinched an eyelid or two with those torture contraptions but trying to attack someone else -- how do you get them to stand still long enough?

Now it’s the ultimate terror, “Chapstick on a Plane.” Okay. Again, I do understand why and I understand the immediate response. But all I can think about is a flight without my chapstick and my water bottle. I have a touch of Monk (and a sensitive tummy). I can’t do the shared water bottle thing -- especially if the rumors are true that some airlines just refill that bottle from the airplane tap. My tummy is grumbling and my lips are chapping just thinking about this. Dude, I need my chapstick.

It will always be something. I think that terrorists’ ultimate goal is to slowly drive us insane. Maybe kill us with chapped lips. Only then can we be converted from our evil ways.

Aren’t we all just a little famous?

Fellow blogger and friend, Nichelle, posted her brushes with fame and asked for readers’ stories. I have thought about the many brief encounters I’ve had with “famous” people.

The earliest I can remember is meeting Walt Morey in the fifth grade. He wrote a book called “Kavik the Wolf Dog” which was high on my list then. He signed my book.

In junior high, the band Three Dog Night came to my school to tell us not to do drugs and did a concert. I got to interview them for the school newspaper. (A sidenote, the only drug issue at my junior high was chewing tobacco). This moment begun my dream of writing for Rolling Stone.

In high school, I was in a dance company and quite often a famous dance troupe came to town. I got to do a lot of master classes with the Royal Canadian, the American Ballet, and many others. Definitely showed me I had a much better chance of writing for Rolling Stone than prancing on my toes. But it was fun.

At graduation, my aunt and a family friend took me to Chicago. While there we tailed Oprah Winfrey through the stock exchange. We took in a show at the Second City where a young comedian named Mike Myers was a hoot singing a lawnmower revolution. I got to meet him after the show. About six months or so later saw him on SNL for the first time.

When I hit college, my love of music and the Rolling Stone goal led me to the program council to work security at the campus concerts. I was personally flipped off by John Lydon, one of the other members of PiL tried to get up my skirt. I hung out with That Petrol Emotion and their opening band at a bar on the Hill in a raging blizzard. I denied Flea’s request for a blow job (apparently the reason some women go back stage??). I was roped into pretending I was the lead singer’s fiance of a band whose name escapes me. (Ah, the golden years). I had a pleasant conversation with the B-52s. In my 4+ years of college concerts, I met dozens of popular musicians (and got autographs) from Butthole Surfers to Pete Townsend.

(If you haven’t figured it by now, that Rolling Stone gig never happened. No worries. Life changes constantly.)

Working concerts taught me how to try to meet bands at other concerts. Once I took my then 11-year-old sister Annie to her favorite singer’s show – Randy Newman. After the show, I talked our way backstage and had a long conversation with the singer. Along the way he offered me a job to be a PR assistant. "Does that require moving to LA?" I asked. Of course it did, and I politely declined. I wouldn't have been able to breath there.

I took another sister to a Howard Jones concert and talked our way back stage there. After a fantastic show, it was wonderful to meet one of my favorite singers. I animatedly talked with him about his Macintosh computer used on stage. My sister stood there with her mouth hanging open. Later she told me I was a geek. I mentioned that yes, but I had a long conversation beyond “can you sign this, please?” Other times it was pure luck, accidentally walking in on a meet and greet of my current favorite, the Barenaked Ladies last December (except Kevin). I got a couple of sentences exchanged and had them all sign my BNL santa hat.

In the past 10 years I have been a fan(atic) of the tv show Northern Exposure. Since 1997, I’ve attended a fan festival in Roslyn, Washington. I've gotten to meet at length several of the show's stars. One of the most intresting contacts: I've had many pitchers of beer with Barry Corbin, and listened to many stories in his Texas drawl. Many other of the stars, guest stars and extras have come to the fest.

The past four years, my husband has worked for a local culinary festival group. I’ve been able to meet up with many celebrity and up-and-coming chefs. It’s a hoot to hang out with someone, have some drinks, really get to know them, buy their cookbook, then see them on the Food Network or Travel Channel.

But probably the best encounter I ever had was two minutes with author Maya Angelou (after four hours of standing in line). An incredible writier and speaker, Maya exudes class and positive energy. I was the second to the last person she would sign. I got to touch her hand, feel her energy and thank her for everything she does. That one rules out all the others.

Get your girl on?

Okay... so let me get this straight. If I buy and drive a Hummer, people won't cut in front of me on the slide? Ah, if it were only so easy.

Seriously, do I run over the mean bitch's mini van with the Hummer? Or is it just a Hummer aura that I wear about me? Perhaps Hummer pheramones that frighten people from even consider crossing me path. [oooh, smell that, she's got a hummer. Step lightly!]

I think the only good thing about owning a Hummer is that my car would finally be visible. I don't know how a red Saturn with daytime running lights can be invisible but it is. A hummer would make people think twice about cutting me off in traffic.

In the meantime, I guess I'll just let people cut in front of me at the slide. The funds I save in gas money and car payments I'll take with me to Hawaii ... Twice.

Pencils, pens and highlighters … oh my!

It all started with an innocent trip to Office Depot for one item – a package of printer-ready postcard paper. But I walked in the door to one of my favorite times of the year: Back to School! Yes, it is still July, which is technically the middle of the summer but in the increased pace of the retail world calendar ... it's Back to School time.

I started to rove amongst the displays of colorful notebooks, pens, locker shelves – hey, where were those when I had a locker. I had to build my own (and I feel it’s made me a better person). My heart starts to beat faster at all the cool new things. The smell of new pens and Elmer’s Glue makes me giddy.

Oh look, Sharpie has a collection of cool highlighters (need them for my “old fashioned time sheets”). I must have them. Oh look, cool new mechanical pencils, and a small scissors with a cover (perfect for card class). And a softsided Mead pencil case you can open, fold over and make stand up like a can (another thing perfect for card class to haul my gluesticks and scissors).

I started to hyperventilate. Luckily I was roaming the aisles sans basket. I do less damage at checkout when I can only carry so much. I made it out of the store with some fun new things and nothing frivolous... no, really, everything purchased has a job to do in my hectic life.

I went on with my errands that were fairly uneventful until I hit the SuperTarget…. Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!

From Rico to Chico (part 2)

After leaving the Telluride Bluegrass Festival on Sunday night, we arrived at the Best Western in Montrose at 1 am Monday. It was a really nice place and would have liked to spend more time there – at least a full night!

The sun and 6 am came a bit too quickly. My hubby took me to the Montrose airport so I could catch the first of three flights to get me to my next destination – Chico, California. I was running late and was reprimanded by the counter person/gate person. Montrose has one gate (I think), maybe two? I buzzed through the mini-security and then onto the mini-plane (an Embraer Brasilia EMB-120 turboprop). My carry-on bag had to go underneath and my laptop barely fit under the seat in front of me.

Our bathroom apparently was out of commission (not a problem since the flight was only about an hour), but there was the wafting odor of pee through out the mini-cabin. The view outside the window was fantastic -- well the opposite window from me. My shade was jammed shut. Our flight attendant, Jessica, was a fiery redhead with a fierce scowl. She sat in the front of the plane and glared the entire flight. If there were to be snacks and drinks, that was just too bad. We were on our own.

The flight was quick but the landing at DIA made my heart skip a few beats. Denver’s almost-to-Kansas airport location provides some interesting wind currents in a larger plane. We made it safely on to the ground at the mini-terminal arm branched off of the B terminal. It was a short wait and then on to plane number 2 – this time a large, roomy Airbus to San Francisco.

Another short wait and then on to plane number 3, another Brasilia Turboprop. This time I had the single seat and my laptop almost didn’t fit under the seat. I really had to wedge it under there. The seat I was supposed to be in was the first one and my laptop did not fit into the overhead compartment so I took the next one back and made a new friend with the woman who's seat I swapped with. She was headed to the same workshop I was, as was half the plane.

This time my window shade worked and after flying out of the clouds of San Francisco, I watched the rolling fields and patchworks of Northern California pass below me. Less than an hour later, we landed in Chico. I realized that I really didn’t know where I was on a map (but looked it up later). A short taxi ride to the Hotel Diamond and I was at my home away from home for the week.

I was in Chico for a business workshop/certificate in my field at the university. Chico is a small college town. My hotel was about two blocks from campus. The first afternoon I decided to walk around the town and get the lay of the land, and also to get my legs unfolded from all those plane rides. It was stifling hot but there were plenty of shady spots to walk about – especially on campus.

I ran into my friend Hannah from the plane and we chatted a bit. She mentioned a natural food store several blocks away. We continued on separate paths only to run into each other at the store awhile later. I stocked up on studying munchies, and picked up a refreshing looking juice. Later I discovered that you really should read the label in health food stores. This one had some odd ingredient in it that made it taste like feet with a slight bit of mango on top.

I crashed early that night after walking about in the heat, the three plane rides, lack of sleep and the fun weekend before.

The workshop was interesting but not so much to include it here in the blog. I passed the ceritficate test with 100% (whew! “self-paced” online classes in my book seems to be “wait to the last minute”). I also met and heard many great folks in the business.

One great thing in Chico was the Pita Pit. You pick a pita sandwich and add all the fixings (like a Subway). It was so good, I had it two nights in a row and would have done a third had I not talked Hannah into dinner at the Tres Hombres. One great thing about Hannah is she thought I was in my late 20s.

I also caught my first Bookcrossing book at a local coffee shop, Has Beans. Unfortunately it really wasn’t something I wanted to read (and that the original reader had repurposed into a vegan cookbook). None the less, but I’ll have fun passing it on, maybe into Boulder or the freebox in Telluride when I head back there for another event in August.

The bad thing about Chico is that it was an oven the whole time I was there – above 100 degrees F. Uhg. I was very happy to arrive home back to cooler weather in Colorado.

From Rico to Chico (part 1)

Summer brings a schedule full of things, including travel and concerts. A couple of weeks ago, we loaded up the car and headed for the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. Telluride is about an eight-hour drive from Denver. It’s a really pretty one that goes through many different landscapes. You have the front range and the Rocky Mountain views of Vail, and Glenwood Springs, which morphs into the desert like landscape of Grand Junction. Driving south on highway 50 brings you to the Alps-like San Juan mountains of the Dallas Divide and the peaks around Telluride.

We stayed with friends just outside of Telluride in the old mining town of Rico. With a summer population of about 500 and a winter population of 200, it is a small town where everyone knows everyone else and dogs run free. It’s a lot like Cicely, Alaska – complete with it’s own cast of characters. We had lunch at the Enterprise Bar & Grill on the main street and were treated to tastings of the bar owner's new supply of really hot! sauces. That evening as the sun when down, so did the temperature -- a welcome relief from the 100+ days in Denver the previous week. We spent the evening at friends of our friends with a bonfire, good food, beer and good chatting.

Sunday morning, after a good meal of bagels and fixin’s, we caravaned into Telluride for the Bluegrass Festival. Telluride is an awesome place for a show. The scenery is incredible. Plus the people watching is pretty interesting. We staked out a spot and set up our day camping gear, chairs and all and were soon joined by other friends.

Telluride is at 8750 feet in altitude, but many of the concert-goers were much higher than that. If you ever wonder what happened to the Deadheads when the Grateful Dead stopped touring, just look in the Town Park camping. Lots of dreadlocks, tie-die, really dirty feet and a lack of soap. Ah, the life of the nomad. I itch just thinking of it.

During the day, we took a break from the high-altitude sun (too much can make me grouchy) and took the pups of the group with us up the gondola. Sheena was thrilled to join the ride. Sya would have preferred staying on ground level and tried to burrow herself in the humans’ laps. It’s a palm-sweaty view for me, especially when there’s a strong cross breeze. At the top of the hill (approximately 10,000 feet) we had a fantastic, although steep view. Our friends informed us this was one of the ski runs. Wow, definitely a Warren Miller kind of run -- straight down.

In spite of the days’ heat in the ozone-deprived sun, the night can cool down quickly. As the sun rounded the mountains, folks started to add layers. Out came the fleece, the wool socks, gloves and more.

The headliner of the Sunday show was my favorite band, the Barenaked Ladies. Most people would not think of them as Bluegrass but they have a very folksy feel to their music. They did a mostly acoustic set with the banjos, accordian, and more. They also played many songs from their new album coming out on September. With their usual offbeat humor, they commented on the "dirty" dancing (of the nomad folks I mentioned before), the ride into the Telluride airport (a tricky one, and the nation's highest airport), and various other "Only in Telluride" quips.
After the show, we bade hasty goodbyes and booked it out of town an hour and a half north to Montrose, where I had an 8 am flight Monday morning.

That story in part 2!

Could be pilot error?

Computers have made our lives easier but sometimes I wonder if it is making humans more stupid. There seems to be a human element of just plain common sense in a lot of computer generated work these days.

My aunt, the one who just lost her husband has been mired down with paperwork. It’s the little things that stick out. She just received a letter addressed to her, mailed to her current address (not forwarded) from the Social Security Administration. It stated that they were unable to mail her social security check because they didn’t have a current address for her.

My husband and I just refinanced. My previous mortgage was in my former married name and my ex-husband’s name. When I realized I was getting a check back for the remaining escrow amount, I asked how I could get the check to just me and in my current name. Simple, Chase replied. Just send a letter and a copy of the divorce agreement. So I sent a letter, a copy of the divorce agreement, the Quit Claim deed and a couple of other supporting documents.

Yesterday I received the check made out to my ex-husband and my former married name.

Today I received two letters from Chase, my former mortgage company. The first stated that they had received my letter and would forward it to the appropriate department. The second said that they had received my letter but needed the approproate documentation – a copy of the divorce settlement (which of course was stapled to the letter).

Earlier this week I received a water bill from the city. I pay a budget billing program that pulls the same amount out each month (until month 12 where it reconciles the difference) and also have auto pay - where it withdraws from my bank automatically. The bill was past due and appeared to have been so for two months. So I called. This person did have common sense and explained to me their new computer system had a few bugs. One of those bugs was that it was now pulling $25 a month rather than $31, even though my water usage had increased in 2005 from 2004. The computer should have calculated a larger amount based on the actual usage. The other problem is that it randomly decided not to pull auto pays each month. Thankfully this was understood about the new system and that it would all work out in the end. Nothing was my fault, she assured me, and my water would not be suddenly turned off.

I had a similar thing happen with the new Dell laptop lease I have. For some reason, I had a past due of $2.64 and no payment had been pulled for April. Ends up what happened was that I had received notice that my autopay wouldn’t start for 30 days, so I wrote a check for the March amount. The autopay pulled two days later. Since the $2.64 was a monthly tax imposed by the state, the computer had to show it in the month of April - even though I had paid it twice in March. After a 20 minute phone call, I was told not to worry, it would catch up with the May payment. I understand it need to show up monthy but why the heck didn't it just give me a credit for the extra $2.64 for April instead of a past due.

Don’t worry Hal, I don’t blame computers. They only do what stupid humans tell them to do. But I think we are seriously becoming dumb and dumber by the minute. The more we rely on computers to calculate/automate/distribute based on what we tell them to do, the less common sense we have as a race. I can see why the cylons took over the twelve colonies.

As the old saying goes, seriously people, pull your head out of your …

Saying goodbye when you have the chance

Is knowing someone is going to die better than having someone die suddenly? When you know someone is going to die, you have your chance to say goodbye and to meet with them one last time. When someone dies suddenly, you may have regrets about not being able to say goodbye.

My mother’s older brother died this morning of cancer. He went into hospice in January -- the doctor giving him two weeks. I knew he had cancer a year ago, when right around my wedding they moved from Arizona to Salem, Oregon to be near one of their sons and grandchildren.

My mother went to visit him in March. She encouraged me to do the same but when I found a flight about 10 days out, she thought maybe not. Who knew if it would be in time. So I didn’t go. Life got in the way. She gave me their phone number. For whatever stupid reason, I didn’t call. I have stupid phones and most of the time I can’t hear on them. It was a dumb excuse and one I now regret because it is too late.

It’s been more than 20 years since I have seen my uncle Bob and his wife. I think the last time was when I was in high school. They came through town in their RV which I thought was the coolest thing on the planet. When I first met my uncle and his wife, I think they lived next door to my grandparents on Long Island, NY. I say "I think" because I was really young. My mom is the baby of three kids and there's about 13 years between her and her brother. She was kind of a surprise (but a good one in my opinion).

In 1977, my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary and we went back to New York to celebrate. There also was a trip to New York in 1981 after my sister Annie was born. I think it was this second trip, that my uncle and aunt had moved from the house to a houseboat on the Hudson. I have pictures of us tooling around in a rowboat. I was small then and thought the houseboat was really cool. Now it might be a little small – but then it was really cool. My uncle also took us to where he worked in one of the tallest building in the United States – one of the twin towers of the World Trade Center. We got to go to the top and I still have pictures from my little Kodak 126 of the Statue of Liberty and lots of clouds.

He retired not long after that and they traded the houseboat for a camper van and begun traveling around the country. Around the time I got into the book “Blue Highways” by William Least Heat Moon from a reading contest at school. I always thought of my uncle in Least Heat Moon’s stories. Later they traded up to the nice RV with a bit more room and indoor plumbing. It had two TVs and two VCRs, which was pretty cool in the mid-80s.

At one point, they got into an accident. I don’t remember what happened exactly but it seems my aunt had a lot of neck and back injuries. Around then, they decided to stop traveling and settled down in Arizona into a house on the ground without any wheels.

The amount of times I met my uncle Bob I can count on one hand. It was more the distance between New York and Colorado than anything. Email made it a little better the past couple of years. But the times I did meet him were good and fun.

He was a really wonderful man and I am sorry I didn’t know him as well as I should have. He has two sons I really don’t know at all, as well as a handful of grandkids. I got into geneology awhile back and got everyone’s names and birthdates but I don’t know them.

So this morning after my mom called, the first thing on my mind is that I never called him. Why? I don't know. Distance, time, my own crazy life in the way. None are good excuses. It’s my own fault. I didn’t get that chance to say goodbye and I knew his death was near. Perhaps in mind, I thought that he would just surprise everyone and stick around for awhile.

So here’s to my Uncle Bob, a great man. I’ll miss you.

You’re unfinanceable ?! -- music in advertising

When did catchy ad jingles change to popular songs rewritten into maybe not-so-intended ways. Did Madness really see a coffee commercial when they first penned “Our House”? Naked Eyes must really love Foley’s version of “Always There to Remind Me.”

Some songs work really well for ads. Sheryl Crow’s “Everyday is A Winding Road” is used in a car commercial. Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction" would be great for an ED drug (Cialis, Viagra), although not actually used in a commercial right now. Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill” tune is used by Cingular (not sure if that is a perfect fit but I like the song). MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” works well for the germ-infested daycare center ad for Lysol.

Maybe it’s the lure of extra money. When Bob Dylan showed up in a Victoria’s Secret commercial, many were surprised and some said it was the end of the world. Dylan had sold out. In 1987, when Nike used the Beatles song “Revolution” (rights then owned by Michael Jackson), Paul McCartney complained that the song was about a revolution, “not bloody tennis shoes.” Yet more recently in 2005, he appeared in an Fidelity Investments ad, along with his Wing’s song “Band on the Run.”

Sometimes money isn’t much of a lure and personal values rule out. Hummer had a hard time buying rights to songs for their commercials – even from small indie bands who couldn’t fathom supporting the very un-ecological gas-guzzler.

Many songs used in commercials have helped more obscure up-and-coming, indie bands hit the limelight. Apple’s I-Pod campaign has introduced Gorillaz, Jet, Rinôçérôse and others to a wider audience. Toyota got me hooked on Fisher ("It's a Beautiful Life").

I don’t mind the use of songs but in the original format, not with the lyrics rewritten. But it's almost laziness on the part of advertisers -- a lack of creativity -- that few use original written lyrics to catchy jingles. They don't even need words. Vonage’s “Whoo Hoo” tune is pretty catchy and memorable. So is United Airlines’ grandiose classical theme song.

But really, the local car commercial that has butchered EMF’s “Unbelievable" into "You're unfinanceable". Argh! It hurts my ears. It’s unbelievable! It's not even a word.

[Note: in my googling (research) found a lot of interesting things on AdTunes – another bookmarked site helping me avoid work.]