we will lift you up
we will place you on your feet
sometimes I just want to tell everyone in the world to shut up.
sometimes I wish there wasn't a reason for me to cry.
but there is.
I wish the wrong people weren't looking over my shoulders all the time.
I don't want to talk about it.
I just wish it was better.
2.17.2007
2.16.2007
I need to see the sea
well, I guess I should finish up the story of the power weekend, eh?
Monday morning I woke before Dan and went out and visited with Katie on her futon for a few minutes. It was nice, and peaceful, and the way Mondays should be but rarely are. Soon enough she left for work, and woke Dan right before she did, and there were hugs all around. He and I sat and talked and interneted and eventually wandered down to the Einstein's next to the Queen for breakfast. Lox and bagel never tasted so good.
We got back to the basement miracle/nightmare and packed the rest of our crap. Dan took a long time in the shower. It happens sometimes. We missed our bus to go down town, and I ended up calling Rob Drabkin, who picked us up and took us to the airport. That was fun. It was like being in the back of Mandy Sanders' Omni all over again, except that I was far more attracted to the driver this time. We all three talked home recording and gigs and gear.... I realized once again how much better it is to hang out with dudes. I've got to find some out here.
So then it was planey planey... we made it up to the gate right as they announced initial boarding. good grief, Dan and I couldn't talk enough. All day, through security, on the plane, in the Minneapolis airport at the TGI Fridays and on the people movers. It was the best kind of intense there is. We made it to our planes as the last boarding call was announced, and I literally ran to the end of the concourse to mine, getting my ticket scanned right before they closed the doors. Talk about last minute. Then I jogged back to my seat, pushed my backpack in the overhead bin (yay for not checking bags!), collapsed in my seat, and burst into tears. The lines from that one song on Brian's sampler echoed in my mind ... "What a year, it has been, what a year, it has been- lost my love, shed my skin, what a year, it has been." Transpose weekend and it was accurate, surely. I called Dan briefly, trying to hold it together, under the pretense of wanting to make sure he got on his flight ok. I knew he did, of course he did. I watched him over my shoulder until the wall got in the way as I jogged off towards my Indianapolis flight. But still, I called him- and I knew why- I just needed to hear his voice again. Even for a moment. I could tell he was a little confused, but I didn't care. He said words, and I just mumbled a response, afraid to trust my voice at even the most simplest of phrases. We hung up pretty quickly, and I slumped my head on the cool glass of the window, thankful that Minnesota would keep me in her heart if I did the same.
A couple of hours later, my pops picked me up in the big Buick and we headed home. He talked to me about a lot of stuff, mostly financial planning, but I will admit I mostly only heard buzzing in my ears. I looked at the clock, knowing that I worked in less than 8 hours. I exhaled. I closed my eyes. I smiled.
____________________________________________
(for a slideshow of the wedding, click here. yours truly is in a couple of shots, including a not bad one of buddy and I singing the processional. the other is of myself and Rob [who took Dan and I to the airport] enjoying our hair.)
Monday morning I woke before Dan and went out and visited with Katie on her futon for a few minutes. It was nice, and peaceful, and the way Mondays should be but rarely are. Soon enough she left for work, and woke Dan right before she did, and there were hugs all around. He and I sat and talked and interneted and eventually wandered down to the Einstein's next to the Queen for breakfast. Lox and bagel never tasted so good.
We got back to the basement miracle/nightmare and packed the rest of our crap. Dan took a long time in the shower. It happens sometimes. We missed our bus to go down town, and I ended up calling Rob Drabkin, who picked us up and took us to the airport. That was fun. It was like being in the back of Mandy Sanders' Omni all over again, except that I was far more attracted to the driver this time. We all three talked home recording and gigs and gear.... I realized once again how much better it is to hang out with dudes. I've got to find some out here.
So then it was planey planey... we made it up to the gate right as they announced initial boarding. good grief, Dan and I couldn't talk enough. All day, through security, on the plane, in the Minneapolis airport at the TGI Fridays and on the people movers. It was the best kind of intense there is. We made it to our planes as the last boarding call was announced, and I literally ran to the end of the concourse to mine, getting my ticket scanned right before they closed the doors. Talk about last minute. Then I jogged back to my seat, pushed my backpack in the overhead bin (yay for not checking bags!), collapsed in my seat, and burst into tears. The lines from that one song on Brian's sampler echoed in my mind ... "What a year, it has been, what a year, it has been- lost my love, shed my skin, what a year, it has been." Transpose weekend and it was accurate, surely. I called Dan briefly, trying to hold it together, under the pretense of wanting to make sure he got on his flight ok. I knew he did, of course he did. I watched him over my shoulder until the wall got in the way as I jogged off towards my Indianapolis flight. But still, I called him- and I knew why- I just needed to hear his voice again. Even for a moment. I could tell he was a little confused, but I didn't care. He said words, and I just mumbled a response, afraid to trust my voice at even the most simplest of phrases. We hung up pretty quickly, and I slumped my head on the cool glass of the window, thankful that Minnesota would keep me in her heart if I did the same.
A couple of hours later, my pops picked me up in the big Buick and we headed home. He talked to me about a lot of stuff, mostly financial planning, but I will admit I mostly only heard buzzing in my ears. I looked at the clock, knowing that I worked in less than 8 hours. I exhaled. I closed my eyes. I smiled.
____________________________________________
(for a slideshow of the wedding, click here. yours truly is in a couple of shots, including a not bad one of buddy and I singing the processional. the other is of myself and Rob [who took Dan and I to the airport] enjoying our hair.)
2.06.2007
I won't stop at the foothills
wedding time = Sunday. dun dun dun.
Dan and I woke up sans hangovers (woohoo, PTL) to Katie whispering over us that we had to leave for church in an hour. I was relieved to see that I had covers- the night before he had been a human loom and I was left with handfuls of sheet and little else. My boots had come the day before while we were in the Springs, so I showered and ironed and then slid my little legs into them. People. I don't know how I ever existed without knowing the blissful feeling of sheepskin nearly up to my knee. I never intend to go without it again.
Church was still about 90% good. Somewhere in there they went a little Flatiron-ey/megachurchey, with dumb looking programs and video clips of "Meet The Parents" halfway through the service. The building was so fab, and the speaking was so good, though, I quickly overlooked it. The music has suffered a little bit since I was there. Not to say it was Grandma McDonald playing the comb or anything, but world class musicians do leave you a little spoiled. Despite it's shortcomings, Pathways is still a nails church. If I could, I'd move back just to attend. And for all the other things that I love about CO.
We got back to Buddy's after the service and I ate leftovers from the night before and she and I started out by fighting over a trash can. Oddly appropriate, now that I think of the literary symbolism of it all... I should always plan my fights to be as illustrative. After long, very calm monologues from the both of us about how there was nothing left and we shouldn't be friends any longer (we both were in agreement, nobody had any reservations- this was a first), I started crying. Yes, non-teared Liza. You know when you know something is over, but it was such a beautiful, epochal, transformative thing that you can't help but cry for it anyway, to mourn it and almost honor it in a way? That's where I was at. If this was really over, I wanted to say everything like I meant it, because I knew there wouldn't be another chance. When you are staring the relationship of your life in the face and can see the death mask slide over tired eyes, its time to be honest. There are many things we have never been able to give each other that we have both needed. We won't ever be able to give each other those things. We are too much of who we are to be somebody else. But those different people have loved each other beyond human understanding so many times that the lacking seemed superfluous. If nothing else, Buddy taught me about selfless love.
So after the crying started, and the air was cleared, we decided to keep being friends anyway. The way I see it, we don't have a choice, really. When I try to describe our friendship to people, it usually ends up sounding very epic and grandiose, but I'm coming to realize that maybe it seems that way because that's how it actually is. Some things are out of our control. No matter how hard we try to destroy it, or enable it, or leer at it with indifference, or love it until our palms bleed, it will remain. This is the category I place our friendship in. And I've never had anything else to put in that category until now; it stands alone.
Well, that was slightly exhausting.
We rehearsed for a couple of moments, because Buddy had laryngitis or rickets or something and couldn't sing, and then packed up. Once again I found myself in the back of the Jeep on the way to Red Rocks, only this time I didn't interrupt. I vocalized for a little while to Patty and Sarah M., and then we were there, packing into a full parking lot and navigating the slushy/muddy faux parking lot to the little chapel. Everything was relaxed; we headed downstairs to a little green room and tuned guitars and met Luke Flowers. He was also well over six feet. Dan with his 6'6" business and Buddy in her heels at 6'2" and Luke all together made me feel like a midget. I was the shortest of all of them by a good six inches, and I'm not used to feeling small. It was fun. They're all ridiculously good looking people, too, so that was also fun.
We headed up to the sanctuary and set up the guitars and then Dan and I wandered outside from the side door which had been propped open. We threw snowballs at a nearby tree, and looked at the Rocks, and watched Shelly and Rodney have their wedding pictures taken. The other musicians showed up and went in the side door and also a lady with advanced MS and tremors came through that way. I thought about Scott briefly, then stopped myself. Dan and I talked idly about weddings and adoption and threw more snow. He pulled his pants up high to make me laugh. It worked. We smiled at each other in the sun and then moved back in to the building.
We squeezed into the pew next to Buddy and Luke, and then she and I got up for the processional. It didn't go half bad- my voice carried pretty well and I stayed in tune. Couldn't have asked for more on that end, really. I wish Buddy had been able to sing with me, though. It was still like easing back into a well-worn, favorite pair of pants to play with her, though. Despite a little glitch at the start of the song, we never looked at each other or faltered- playing with her is as easy as playing with myself.
When we returned to our seats, the little russian/eastern european man who had been playing the piano previously was sitting in our spot, pointedly ignoring us standing right over his shoulder. I waited a polite amount of time, then leaned over to ask him if he was going to remain there throughout the service. He replied, rather loudly, that these seats were assigned to him, and we should find our own seats. Russian ass. We sat down behind him and I seethed. Dan and I flew halfway across the country, I spent hundreds of dollars, and took time off work, so this jackass can tell me to find another seat. I muttered "Russian Ass" several times, more than loud enough for him to hear, to Buddy as we wedged our way into the pew behind him. I'm sure he heard me. I was glad. She tried to stifle her laughter, and mostly succeeded. I just reached up and squeezed Dan's shoulder a lot during the ceremony, and soon enough, it was over. Let me repeat to all of you- never get married there. Never. If you ever hear of anyone planning on getting married there, tell them not to do it. And scene.
The reception was fine, whatevs, and we saw Rob there. There was great food (PTL Shelly is a vegan) and so the five of us, Buddy, me, Dan, Luke, and Rob all kind of hung out. We stayed for a couple of hours, then moseyed after Rob played a couple of our requests. We figured, even if it wasn't our wedding reception, we had put up with a lot this day, and Shelly was too twitterpated to notice what tunes were jangling out over Rob's strings. After "Rise at Sea" and "She Comes And Goes," we scooted out the door, arms full of centerpieces and bellies full of polenta.
[as a brief aside, let me not fail to mention the old codger sitting across the table from us. Man, what a card. He kept ineptly bursting into our conversation, expecting us to relish his witty statements. except that they were devoid of wit. He grabbed one of the admittedly beautiful orchid centerpieces, stuffed some more orchids from a nearby one into it, and then shoved a small decorative picture frame in for good measure. he then sauntered off to find "his granddaughter" and I took the opportunity to put the diminuative set of salt and pepper shakers in his flowers, as well. If only he hadn't looked closely when he returned... he blamed it on "his granddaughter" and I thanked my lucky stars the kids around me had a background in theatre and could fake/choke/cough their way through the moment. he just seemed so intent on taking everything off the table he could, I thought I'd help him out a bit.]
Getting home was much easier than getting there; Buddy (who was leading with Luke) got us lost on the way to the reception several times. We got back to the apartment and danced around crazily for a while before falling into a heap on the bed, whereon Dan looked over at me and said, "Wanna go get f*cked up?" I knew he was referring to Buddy's unopened bottle of 100% agave Centenario tequila, which she had had for over a year. I nodded, a contented smile appearing on my lips. About four shots in we were interrupted by a phone party. Dan disappeared into the bathroom for a while, Buddy's buddhist faux-boyfriend who overreacts and is a horrible kisser called her and she slipped out to the entryway, so I took the opportunity to call the only logical person in the world: Kati Hultman. To be honest, it was a call back since I had called her the day before (was it only the day before?) when I was so mad I couldn't see straight. She had returned my call the previous evening, but I believe at the time I was drunk and laying on a table in the Ancient Mariner with Dan, looking at the ceiling. So I returned her call, and we talked for a while, and I was amazed at how lucid I felt. The phone party ended and Dan and I took up where we left off, slamming a couple more and taking a few additionals with cranberry juice mixed in. whoooo things got pretty loose then.
Buddy left for her futon-bed and Dan and I cozied down in the down comforter and had ourselves a talk. Boy, did we have ourselves a talk. What happens in Buddy's bed stays in Buddy's bed, and that's all you're going to get from me on the subject, but let me just declare to you all now- there is nothing finer than unabashed honesty and loosing of secrets with someone you love. There is no kind of high, physical, emotional, or spiritual more transcendent than that. Some smart person once said, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." They weren't kidding. With a warm glow in my belly and a ridiculous smile plastered across my face, I drifted off to a thousand golden dreams.
Dan and I woke up sans hangovers (woohoo, PTL) to Katie whispering over us that we had to leave for church in an hour. I was relieved to see that I had covers- the night before he had been a human loom and I was left with handfuls of sheet and little else. My boots had come the day before while we were in the Springs, so I showered and ironed and then slid my little legs into them. People. I don't know how I ever existed without knowing the blissful feeling of sheepskin nearly up to my knee. I never intend to go without it again.
Church was still about 90% good. Somewhere in there they went a little Flatiron-ey/megachurchey, with dumb looking programs and video clips of "Meet The Parents" halfway through the service. The building was so fab, and the speaking was so good, though, I quickly overlooked it. The music has suffered a little bit since I was there. Not to say it was Grandma McDonald playing the comb or anything, but world class musicians do leave you a little spoiled. Despite it's shortcomings, Pathways is still a nails church. If I could, I'd move back just to attend. And for all the other things that I love about CO.
We got back to Buddy's after the service and I ate leftovers from the night before and she and I started out by fighting over a trash can. Oddly appropriate, now that I think of the literary symbolism of it all... I should always plan my fights to be as illustrative. After long, very calm monologues from the both of us about how there was nothing left and we shouldn't be friends any longer (we both were in agreement, nobody had any reservations- this was a first), I started crying. Yes, non-teared Liza. You know when you know something is over, but it was such a beautiful, epochal, transformative thing that you can't help but cry for it anyway, to mourn it and almost honor it in a way? That's where I was at. If this was really over, I wanted to say everything like I meant it, because I knew there wouldn't be another chance. When you are staring the relationship of your life in the face and can see the death mask slide over tired eyes, its time to be honest. There are many things we have never been able to give each other that we have both needed. We won't ever be able to give each other those things. We are too much of who we are to be somebody else. But those different people have loved each other beyond human understanding so many times that the lacking seemed superfluous. If nothing else, Buddy taught me about selfless love.
So after the crying started, and the air was cleared, we decided to keep being friends anyway. The way I see it, we don't have a choice, really. When I try to describe our friendship to people, it usually ends up sounding very epic and grandiose, but I'm coming to realize that maybe it seems that way because that's how it actually is. Some things are out of our control. No matter how hard we try to destroy it, or enable it, or leer at it with indifference, or love it until our palms bleed, it will remain. This is the category I place our friendship in. And I've never had anything else to put in that category until now; it stands alone.
Well, that was slightly exhausting.
We rehearsed for a couple of moments, because Buddy had laryngitis or rickets or something and couldn't sing, and then packed up. Once again I found myself in the back of the Jeep on the way to Red Rocks, only this time I didn't interrupt. I vocalized for a little while to Patty and Sarah M., and then we were there, packing into a full parking lot and navigating the slushy/muddy faux parking lot to the little chapel. Everything was relaxed; we headed downstairs to a little green room and tuned guitars and met Luke Flowers. He was also well over six feet. Dan with his 6'6" business and Buddy in her heels at 6'2" and Luke all together made me feel like a midget. I was the shortest of all of them by a good six inches, and I'm not used to feeling small. It was fun. They're all ridiculously good looking people, too, so that was also fun.
We headed up to the sanctuary and set up the guitars and then Dan and I wandered outside from the side door which had been propped open. We threw snowballs at a nearby tree, and looked at the Rocks, and watched Shelly and Rodney have their wedding pictures taken. The other musicians showed up and went in the side door and also a lady with advanced MS and tremors came through that way. I thought about Scott briefly, then stopped myself. Dan and I talked idly about weddings and adoption and threw more snow. He pulled his pants up high to make me laugh. It worked. We smiled at each other in the sun and then moved back in to the building.
We squeezed into the pew next to Buddy and Luke, and then she and I got up for the processional. It didn't go half bad- my voice carried pretty well and I stayed in tune. Couldn't have asked for more on that end, really. I wish Buddy had been able to sing with me, though. It was still like easing back into a well-worn, favorite pair of pants to play with her, though. Despite a little glitch at the start of the song, we never looked at each other or faltered- playing with her is as easy as playing with myself.
When we returned to our seats, the little russian/eastern european man who had been playing the piano previously was sitting in our spot, pointedly ignoring us standing right over his shoulder. I waited a polite amount of time, then leaned over to ask him if he was going to remain there throughout the service. He replied, rather loudly, that these seats were assigned to him, and we should find our own seats. Russian ass. We sat down behind him and I seethed. Dan and I flew halfway across the country, I spent hundreds of dollars, and took time off work, so this jackass can tell me to find another seat. I muttered "Russian Ass" several times, more than loud enough for him to hear, to Buddy as we wedged our way into the pew behind him. I'm sure he heard me. I was glad. She tried to stifle her laughter, and mostly succeeded. I just reached up and squeezed Dan's shoulder a lot during the ceremony, and soon enough, it was over. Let me repeat to all of you- never get married there. Never. If you ever hear of anyone planning on getting married there, tell them not to do it. And scene.
The reception was fine, whatevs, and we saw Rob there. There was great food (PTL Shelly is a vegan) and so the five of us, Buddy, me, Dan, Luke, and Rob all kind of hung out. We stayed for a couple of hours, then moseyed after Rob played a couple of our requests. We figured, even if it wasn't our wedding reception, we had put up with a lot this day, and Shelly was too twitterpated to notice what tunes were jangling out over Rob's strings. After "Rise at Sea" and "She Comes And Goes," we scooted out the door, arms full of centerpieces and bellies full of polenta.
[as a brief aside, let me not fail to mention the old codger sitting across the table from us. Man, what a card. He kept ineptly bursting into our conversation, expecting us to relish his witty statements. except that they were devoid of wit. He grabbed one of the admittedly beautiful orchid centerpieces, stuffed some more orchids from a nearby one into it, and then shoved a small decorative picture frame in for good measure. he then sauntered off to find "his granddaughter" and I took the opportunity to put the diminuative set of salt and pepper shakers in his flowers, as well. If only he hadn't looked closely when he returned... he blamed it on "his granddaughter" and I thanked my lucky stars the kids around me had a background in theatre and could fake/choke/cough their way through the moment. he just seemed so intent on taking everything off the table he could, I thought I'd help him out a bit.]
Getting home was much easier than getting there; Buddy (who was leading with Luke) got us lost on the way to the reception several times. We got back to the apartment and danced around crazily for a while before falling into a heap on the bed, whereon Dan looked over at me and said, "Wanna go get f*cked up?" I knew he was referring to Buddy's unopened bottle of 100% agave Centenario tequila, which she had had for over a year. I nodded, a contented smile appearing on my lips. About four shots in we were interrupted by a phone party. Dan disappeared into the bathroom for a while, Buddy's buddhist faux-boyfriend who overreacts and is a horrible kisser called her and she slipped out to the entryway, so I took the opportunity to call the only logical person in the world: Kati Hultman. To be honest, it was a call back since I had called her the day before (was it only the day before?) when I was so mad I couldn't see straight. She had returned my call the previous evening, but I believe at the time I was drunk and laying on a table in the Ancient Mariner with Dan, looking at the ceiling. So I returned her call, and we talked for a while, and I was amazed at how lucid I felt. The phone party ended and Dan and I took up where we left off, slamming a couple more and taking a few additionals with cranberry juice mixed in. whoooo things got pretty loose then.
Buddy left for her futon-bed and Dan and I cozied down in the down comforter and had ourselves a talk. Boy, did we have ourselves a talk. What happens in Buddy's bed stays in Buddy's bed, and that's all you're going to get from me on the subject, but let me just declare to you all now- there is nothing finer than unabashed honesty and loosing of secrets with someone you love. There is no kind of high, physical, emotional, or spiritual more transcendent than that. Some smart person once said, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." They weren't kidding. With a warm glow in my belly and a ridiculous smile plastered across my face, I drifted off to a thousand golden dreams.
2.01.2007
making my way west
Saturday.
Buddy and I were at odds most of the day, through no amount of innocence on either side. I stormed off to the Queen early, armed with a BOGO coupon. I met Chris in the alleyway; she seemed to have forgotten all of our ill-timed run ins from the previous year, and seemed genuinely glad to see me. (as an aside, I forgot to mention that I saw Brooke the night before. she looked slick, man, slick.) I was angry. I mention this because I so rarely get that angry, I think I can only remember one other time in the last ten years. Fairly monumental. I sloshed along in my Earth shoes, the same ones that brought Shelly and I together two years ago, with a late arrival and a whisper in the back of a massage therapy classroom. The soles are coming apart on them now, and I had scarcely gone ten paces before my heavy wool socks were already damp. Ah well. Might as well be uncomfortable all the way around.
When I got back, I demanded and got Buddy's Jeep, and wasted 45 minutes driving around town aimlessly looking for an open bank. Cashless, I returned and gathered Dan before we headed out for our day. Buddy stayed home, in bed.
We had left earlier than planned, so showed up at Brian's before he and Katie got home from collecting a wine chiller mini fridge. Brian is a wine afficianado, and his girlfriend Katie is a happy enabler. He has quite the impromptu wine cellar in his basement, one that I am always glad of when visiting, and this trip was certainly no disappointment- they honored Dan and I (and Katie's dad, who was helping them with the cooler) with a ridiculous spread including 4 types of cheeses, marinated artichoke, bruschetta, a cracker plate, and of course 2 different bottles of wine. I only allowed myself two glasses as I would be driving us down to the Springs in a few hours, but Dan loaded up. A sly wink passed back and forth assured the both of us that my turn would come.
After a few, happy hours with them it was time to head out. I had to use the restroom before we left, at the same time as Dan, and Katie told him to go ahead, that "Liza's bathroom is upstairs." It got a real, genuine smile out of me for the first time that day. Even after all these months, I knew I belonged. Let me tell you, friends, when you find this feeling, don't let it go.
Hugs and waves exchanged, Dan and I folded ourselves back into Buddy's Jeep and headed down to the Springs. Despite being overcast, he was still able to get a pretty good view of the foothills. I had fun pointing things out on the way down- Castle Rock and the geological formation that gives it its name, Monument Pass, and the like. I didn't even bother with the Air Force Academy or New Life Church- despite visibility being too poor to actually see them from the roadway, I didn't care. We had a long, awkward, and good conversation on the way down, clearing the air for me a bit. I discover a little more all the time that I really like talking to that kid. He's a great listener. (Once again, when you find these, don't let them go... they are rare.)
I brought him into town on Garden of The Gods road, and then drove him through GOG itself. It was just on the darker side of twilight, and gorgeous out. Despite the chill I lowered my window. Things seem more tangible when there's not glass in between. Dan muttered for a moment about the beauty, then we both fell silent. Sometimes words don't do things justice. After completing a circuit of the park, we snuck up on the west side of the Springs from behind and found ourselves in the company of one McDavid, which thrilled me to no end. We headed over to Adams, and as Dan and she quickly fell in love with each other over the best organic food on either side of the Mississippi, I took a fond look around. In just three days time, the restaurant would be moving over to the newly renovated/restored Spa building in the center of town. There were already evident changes- the weird, busy wallpaper had been pulled up and the walls had been painted. The smell was the same, though, and Lucci and Sam were both working. I got hugs all around, and as always they came and sat at our table for long moments, ignoring other customers and catching up. I love those girls. I got to sing Sam her song one more time, and she smiled and laughed at me just the way she always did. And of course, as Dan dubbed her, "Old Farl" had to show up. I swear the claw-handed woman has some sort of sensor-- Liza's down at Adams. Must go. Must have awkward moment where we face off and then provide 15 second long non-sequiter conversation. Check.
So a couple of hours later (not that it wasn't it's own illustrative point, but I did talk to Dan about the "slow food" movement), we left with little boxes. Mine said, "Do it effectively do it" on the top, and McDavid, who wanted a slightly more menacing message to ward off unwanted eaters, had a variety of saying scrawled upon it. "Poison, posion. Scary feminine stuff. Placenta sauteed in man juice. Do not eat. Posson."
We sauntered back over to the Jeep, much fuller (and a little drunker, we did in fact split a bottle of organic Ladybug red table wine) and whipped that sucker around to Manitou Ave, and went into the Ancient Mariner where we had some more drinks and played a rather forgettable game of pool. I remember Dan lost both times. (the first we didn't count as an actual game, because all he did when he tried to break was shoot the cue ball into the nearest pocket. did I mention we were drinking?) I rubbed his shoulders for a moment, and a man who would have been absolutely creepy anywhere else but was perfectly normal in Manitou came up and asked me if I could work on him next. Sure. He plopped down and groaned for about five while I dug into his right shoulder. He had a pearl earring and a great, shaggy head of gray hair, racing down to meet a teal flannel shirt. He had a nice ring, too. Finally Dan saved me by leaning close to him and saying rather loudly, "Think you can sleep on that, now?" (his original complaint is that he couldn't sleep.) Yes, we are the smoothest operators in the known world. Still, I shot Dan a grateful smile and bucko thanked me heartily before stumbling off.
After I finished my Fat Tire (booyah!) and Shelly showed up, we shoved off. We dropped McDavid off and there were hugs and love all around. Dan looked at me accusatorily, wagging his finger and telling me I shouldn't have kept all these lovely people from him for so long. I just shrugged. He was to drive back up to Denver, so I gave him some rudimentary directions and dozed off, content to leave him in charge of transportation. I woke up to a hand squeeze at the Lincoln Ave exit, and gave him sleepy but followable instructions back to Buddy's. It was just after midnight, and we stumbled in her apartment to find her sleeping on the futon in the entryway. After quick tooth brushing, I tumbled into bed, falling back to sleep before Dan could get out of the shower.
Buddy and I were at odds most of the day, through no amount of innocence on either side. I stormed off to the Queen early, armed with a BOGO coupon. I met Chris in the alleyway; she seemed to have forgotten all of our ill-timed run ins from the previous year, and seemed genuinely glad to see me. (as an aside, I forgot to mention that I saw Brooke the night before. she looked slick, man, slick.) I was angry. I mention this because I so rarely get that angry, I think I can only remember one other time in the last ten years. Fairly monumental. I sloshed along in my Earth shoes, the same ones that brought Shelly and I together two years ago, with a late arrival and a whisper in the back of a massage therapy classroom. The soles are coming apart on them now, and I had scarcely gone ten paces before my heavy wool socks were already damp. Ah well. Might as well be uncomfortable all the way around.
When I got back, I demanded and got Buddy's Jeep, and wasted 45 minutes driving around town aimlessly looking for an open bank. Cashless, I returned and gathered Dan before we headed out for our day. Buddy stayed home, in bed.
We had left earlier than planned, so showed up at Brian's before he and Katie got home from collecting a wine chiller mini fridge. Brian is a wine afficianado, and his girlfriend Katie is a happy enabler. He has quite the impromptu wine cellar in his basement, one that I am always glad of when visiting, and this trip was certainly no disappointment- they honored Dan and I (and Katie's dad, who was helping them with the cooler) with a ridiculous spread including 4 types of cheeses, marinated artichoke, bruschetta, a cracker plate, and of course 2 different bottles of wine. I only allowed myself two glasses as I would be driving us down to the Springs in a few hours, but Dan loaded up. A sly wink passed back and forth assured the both of us that my turn would come.
After a few, happy hours with them it was time to head out. I had to use the restroom before we left, at the same time as Dan, and Katie told him to go ahead, that "Liza's bathroom is upstairs." It got a real, genuine smile out of me for the first time that day. Even after all these months, I knew I belonged. Let me tell you, friends, when you find this feeling, don't let it go.
Hugs and waves exchanged, Dan and I folded ourselves back into Buddy's Jeep and headed down to the Springs. Despite being overcast, he was still able to get a pretty good view of the foothills. I had fun pointing things out on the way down- Castle Rock and the geological formation that gives it its name, Monument Pass, and the like. I didn't even bother with the Air Force Academy or New Life Church- despite visibility being too poor to actually see them from the roadway, I didn't care. We had a long, awkward, and good conversation on the way down, clearing the air for me a bit. I discover a little more all the time that I really like talking to that kid. He's a great listener. (Once again, when you find these, don't let them go... they are rare.)
I brought him into town on Garden of The Gods road, and then drove him through GOG itself. It was just on the darker side of twilight, and gorgeous out. Despite the chill I lowered my window. Things seem more tangible when there's not glass in between. Dan muttered for a moment about the beauty, then we both fell silent. Sometimes words don't do things justice. After completing a circuit of the park, we snuck up on the west side of the Springs from behind and found ourselves in the company of one McDavid, which thrilled me to no end. We headed over to Adams, and as Dan and she quickly fell in love with each other over the best organic food on either side of the Mississippi, I took a fond look around. In just three days time, the restaurant would be moving over to the newly renovated/restored Spa building in the center of town. There were already evident changes- the weird, busy wallpaper had been pulled up and the walls had been painted. The smell was the same, though, and Lucci and Sam were both working. I got hugs all around, and as always they came and sat at our table for long moments, ignoring other customers and catching up. I love those girls. I got to sing Sam her song one more time, and she smiled and laughed at me just the way she always did. And of course, as Dan dubbed her, "Old Farl" had to show up. I swear the claw-handed woman has some sort of sensor-- Liza's down at Adams. Must go. Must have awkward moment where we face off and then provide 15 second long non-sequiter conversation. Check.
So a couple of hours later (not that it wasn't it's own illustrative point, but I did talk to Dan about the "slow food" movement), we left with little boxes. Mine said, "Do it effectively do it" on the top, and McDavid, who wanted a slightly more menacing message to ward off unwanted eaters, had a variety of saying scrawled upon it. "Poison, posion. Scary feminine stuff. Placenta sauteed in man juice. Do not eat. Posson."
We sauntered back over to the Jeep, much fuller (and a little drunker, we did in fact split a bottle of organic Ladybug red table wine) and whipped that sucker around to Manitou Ave, and went into the Ancient Mariner where we had some more drinks and played a rather forgettable game of pool. I remember Dan lost both times. (the first we didn't count as an actual game, because all he did when he tried to break was shoot the cue ball into the nearest pocket. did I mention we were drinking?) I rubbed his shoulders for a moment, and a man who would have been absolutely creepy anywhere else but was perfectly normal in Manitou came up and asked me if I could work on him next. Sure. He plopped down and groaned for about five while I dug into his right shoulder. He had a pearl earring and a great, shaggy head of gray hair, racing down to meet a teal flannel shirt. He had a nice ring, too. Finally Dan saved me by leaning close to him and saying rather loudly, "Think you can sleep on that, now?" (his original complaint is that he couldn't sleep.) Yes, we are the smoothest operators in the known world. Still, I shot Dan a grateful smile and bucko thanked me heartily before stumbling off.
After I finished my Fat Tire (booyah!) and Shelly showed up, we shoved off. We dropped McDavid off and there were hugs and love all around. Dan looked at me accusatorily, wagging his finger and telling me I shouldn't have kept all these lovely people from him for so long. I just shrugged. He was to drive back up to Denver, so I gave him some rudimentary directions and dozed off, content to leave him in charge of transportation. I woke up to a hand squeeze at the Lincoln Ave exit, and gave him sleepy but followable instructions back to Buddy's. It was just after midnight, and we stumbled in her apartment to find her sleeping on the futon in the entryway. After quick tooth brushing, I tumbled into bed, falling back to sleep before Dan could get out of the shower.
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