betsy and nat

Well, after a lovely cup of coffee (the beans purchased from our new favorite coffee shop in the world — even better than Kopplins in St Paul) out in the backyard sunshine this morning, and a bike trip to the Denver Art Museum (which was free and extremely busy today because this week is Denver art week) the energy potential of my bran flakes had expired and I was entering that low-blood-sugar zone that we call “hangry”.  I do not know what percentage of the population this happens to, but when I get hungry, I get kinda mean — in an irrational sort of way.  We rode back to France & Jen’s apartment and I had some lunch while Nat & France went to play four square with some friends.

I realized today at the museum that we had not really had any down time since we arrived in Denver, which goes to show what amazing hosts our friends are, but also makes me value this quiet moment alone with you.

Yesterday France, Nat & I went up into the mountains so the boys could climb.  I am used to going along on this sort of thing in Minnesota, where almost all of the climbing is in parks where paths are easily navigable and the trees swoosh their leaves around and there are flat places to lounge around on and read once you get to the climbing areas.  Even while we were driving up and going through tunnels and generally being surrounded by giant heaps of rock I began to get uneasy.  I knew we wanted to come to Denver to be near France & Jen for a time, but I didn’t realize how much I dislike being up in the mountains.  Funny thing not to think of, huh?  We pulled off the road on a shoulder that had been widened for that purpose, and began walking along, against some intensely gusting wind.  Down in the city, it was almost 80 degrees yesterday, so we were in t-shirts and very thin sweaters, and it was much colder than I had expected.  I looked ahead and saw no paths or trees or flat places to sit, and realized after some general conversation about the “scramble” up to where the climbing would start (and a quick look at the leather mary janes I was wearing) that I would probably be better off just hanging out at the car.   So I turned around, and spent some time by myself (which I guess you could call “down time,” except for all the cars and semi-trucks that were roaring past) in the car.

It gets dark in the mountains faster than down in the flats, and soon enough I was bending my book toward the last rays of the light and wishing that I had a headlamp.  The guys eventually came back and we met Jen at the apartment and went to dinner at a restaurant called spicy basil — where our food was fresh, delicious, and totally affordable.  As far as I can tell, every month there is a weekend when bunches of artists open up their studios for visitors, and serve crackers and chex mix and cheap red wine and a real variety (from the 4-inch-stiletto crowd to the middle-aged hippies) of people come out to these houses and buildings full of studios and art and artists and mill about and chat and maybe buy a piece of art. We were part of that crowd last night, and had a good time.

Then we stayed up and watched the movie stepbrothers, which was funny but unnecessarily crude in so many ways.

I am hoping to see Beth (our host) sometime soonish, as we have not seen her since Thursday night when we moved in.  She is friendly and open and has a funny small dog who loves chicken soup.  It makes me miss maggie & david…