Schadenfreude Is One of My Favourite Words

The Savage Chickens are all about zombies these days.




Except when they're not.




Also: Seriously?

Birthday: the Last Gasp

Do you feel it?

There!

That change in the air, that specific tang to the breeze, the way the light slants just so?

That's birthday season coming to a close.

[SUMMARY: Drama R Us.]

Thus I present the final photos and a eulogy for the glittering phoenix that is My Birthday.

As previously mentioned, Nathan sent a small truckload of chocolates to the office so I could share. Which I did.

Really.

Because I'm a *giver*.

Fortunately, the people in my office are pathologically opposed to taking the last of anything, so I got at least one of each kind. My review: *grrrgle*

Fran's Chocolates make Godiva look like Hershey's.†




I love the heavy, rich boxes and Miami strip club-worthy‡ satin ribbons.

But mostly I love the chocolate. I had apricots, ginger, coconut, almonds and caramels.

And figs.




I didn't really share the figs so much. One might say I didn't share them at all.

I did let Hans look at them.




They're stuffed with dark chocolate ganache and dipped in dark chocolate and *grrrgle*...

[SUMMARY: Experiencing technical difficulties.]

Juno sent me this perfume, which smells like nutmeg and cloves and vanilla and is not nearly as sugary as you might think from this description. It's rich and ever-so-slighly understated and makes you snork your wrist as you try to go about your business.§

And just look at the kick-ass bottle.¶




She even wrapped it up in pretty pink paper.

[SUMMARY: From candy to candy-coating.#]

Speaking of spiders††...

The nephews got me what they hoped would be a remote controlled nightmare.




I had to explain that I'm not so much afraid of tarantulas. It's MEDIUM-SIZED spiders that get me.

Tiny little dance-on-the-head-of-a-pin spiders, no big deal. Tarantulas are basically eight-legged gerbils.‡‡ Medium-sized spiders are forever scuttling out of corners, dangling over my head at dinner, hiding in the sheets when I get into bed at night...

*shudder*










That clicking at the end is me trying to get the tarantula to turn around, but the batteries were dead.§§

Let's see... Dad got me a family membership here. Brother got me two tickets for this. Aunt Chris sent a gift card. I got many cards and greetings and well-wishes and comments.¶¶

All in all, a delightful birthday season, but over.

[SUMMARY: Alas.]

Time to pack away the birthday suit## until next birthday season.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Please note that none of these things is in the least bit bad, just some are gooder than others.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Let's all thank Hans; I'll never look at satin the same way again.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): By "you," I mean, "I."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I took a picture of my own bottle but somehow managed to miss it in the Blogger upload. So I kyped this from a website. It's probably just as well. Mine has nose prints all over its shiny black surface.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): If you cloak a black widow in pretty pink paper, are you not candy-coating in a metaphorical sense?

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Yes, we were.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Which is not to say if a gerbil scuttled across the kitchen floor from a dark and hidden place I wouldn't scream like a girl and possibly wet myself. Sneakiness and the scuttling really get me. But medium-sized spiders freak me out on sight.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn! turn!): I can't imagine why. We only played with it for about an hour on my birthday.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (see? I'm tearing up from the beauty of it all): Thank you. I love you all.

##FOOTNOTE (those may be extra chocolate pounds): Y'know... like when you clean your sweaters and put them in a space bag for the summer.

Who Knew?

Did any of y'all know Karen Allen was a capital-K-Knitter?


{Karen Allen Fiber Arts via The Daily Heller}

Thank Me Later

Tommy. Oh, there was a street fair and a BBQ, blah blah blah, but I know what y'all want out of these occasions. And what you want is Tommy.

Here, he posed:




And here is a candid shot:




Now why don't you go off and speculate exactly what measurement Tommy might be indicating in this shot.

Happy Friday!

Yay, Meme!

I'd like to thank Yvette for making my blog post today a no-brainer.

I'd also like to thank my iPod for not making me look like as much of a dork as it could've.†

If that Lionel Ritchie‡ ever got out, it would be TOTALLY embarrassing.§

1. Hang Wire - Pixies
2. Seven Veils - Peter Murphy
3. Hole - Catherine Wheel
4. Messin' With the Mekon - Robert Plant¶
5. True - Spandau Ballet#
6. Lucretia - Sisters of Mercy
7. Dead Man's Party - Oingo Boingo††
8. Still of the Night - Whitesnake
9. Salsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel
10. Let Me See - Morcheeba
11. La Lune - Sarah Brightman
12. Into the Fire - Sarah McLachlan
13. Add It Up - Violent Femmes
14. Rain Will Fall - I Mother Earth
15. Der Kommissar - Falco
16. Gin and Juice - Snoop Dogg
17. I Miss the Girl - Soul Coughing
18. Push It - Salt-N-Pepa
19. Golden Touch - Razorlight
20.‡‡ Over the Hills and Far Away - Gary Moore

Deep in my heart, I love this meme. I did it on Facebook and found it very pleasant. I'd highly recommend it to any of you, so tag if you want it. Just turn your music player of choice on, put it on shuffle, list the first twenty% songs (if you cheat or edit, you're missing the point) and tag anyone you want.

I'm always interested in seeing what other people listen to, so let me know if you decide to do it.

I'm leaving for The Lake in a couple of hours. This year, I may just put the old iPod on shuffle and see how that treats me.

Besides, there's the dark-corridor-in-a-horror-flick thrill that Lionel Ritchie might be lurking around every corner.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Though it did want me to list La Lune three times.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I have a GOOD EXCUSE. For our 20th high school reunion, when I was on the committee, I volunteered to make CDs for each year we were in high school (1981-1985). I (theatre geek, underachiever, fashion disaster, metal chick) picked five songs, Heidi Dowd (cheerleader, valedictorian, golden girl, mainstream) picked five songs, and I included the Billboard Top Ten for each year. Lionel Ritchie was in the top ten a LOT in those days.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You'll all note I've decided to stop using Neil Diamond as my measure of dorkitude in music. Neil's a hero. Neil's a classic. And he's way more hip than Lionel Ritchie.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Love me some Robert Plant.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Brother says I don't like this song. "No you don't. You really don't. You may think you do, but you don't." Apparently, this embarrasses Brother more than it embarrasses me.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): This is Steve's and my song.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Then I looked back at Yvette's instructions and she only asked for 15. But if I only do 15, I don't get Snooop and that would make me sad. Gin & Juice, btw, is the only song in common between my FB list and this one. The universe is trying to tell me something. Something about gin.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): In true Marin fashion, I now find the 20 I thought I did on FB was actually 25. I'm a rebel, making up rules as I go along... if you do the meme, pick a number from 15 to 25 and use that. *ahem*

Life, the Universe and Everything

Brother and I were talking on my birthday and he mentioned this was my Life, the Universe and Everything birthday.†

"I didn't think there was anything noteworthy after the Jesus birthday,‡ but there you have it."

[SUMMARY: For some, passage of time is noted in literary reference.]

My birthday dawned clear and vodka-soaked, as Kelley took me out for brunch,§ then to The Cooler¶ for a shitty canned beer.

I'm not being mean. That's how Kelley phrased it: "Can I buy you a shitty canned beer?"




I cheerfully mark this a white trash beginning to the day, what with the chicken and waffles breakfast and the shitty canned beer chaser.

The gifts were anything but white trash:




Tokyo Milk is a local company recently featured in The Moment in the NY Times. The owner of the company hand-sparkles the packaging.

Of course, I'm mostly in it for the skulls.




[SUMMARY: Skulls are key.]

The evening celebration was certainly more high brow. You'd expect no less -- it was Brother's turn to entertain me.#

We started not with shitty canned beer, but with the first grape Wine Spectator ever awarded a perfect 100††:






As an aside, Brother eschewed wine until about five years ago. Now he's a frickin' snob.‡‡

[SUMMARY: Reformed sinners...]

The first thing Tallest Hairiest Nephew said?

"I'm not your hairiest nephew anymore."§§




We're going with Tallest Spikiest Nephew until he shaves his head for the big swim meet in August.

Dr. Doom is his usual doomy self.¶¶




Monday, Dad and Brother were taking me to dinner.

Let me take you back in Marin history: when I was young and we'd be in a tourist trap or a Hallmark store^ and we'd see a display of personalised [ fill in the blank ].

Mom or Dad would chirp, syrup and unholy glee coating their sarcastic voices, "If you can find your name, we'll buy it for you."

I have led a life deprived of Marin license plates for my bike and Marin pencils for school.

Monday this package from Kim$ arrived just in time...




...for me to wear this button to dinner.




But the pièce de résistance##:




It's a SENSATION in the office.

Touched and grateful doesn't *begin* to cover it. A lifetime of cruel lack was wiped away in one UPS delivery.

[SUMMARY: MARIN!]

Dad and Brother surprised me with a field trip to my favourite neighbourhood Italian restaurant, Mikey's.†††

Dad and Brother had their backs to the window. I was across from them. It wasn't long before my obvious distraction distracted them.

"Sorry. I'm trying to figure out how many misspellings are on that stupid sign behind you. Pet Emporium and So? Pet Emorium and So? The paw prints are supposed to be Os, right?"




They both looked. We all marvelled. It never made sense.

The next day, my client looked at it and said, "I got it! Pet Emporium and Spa.*"

[SUMMARY: Stupid sign.]

Dad's fiancée sent a present.




This is not a present from Peach, mind you. It's a present from her cats.‡‡‡






[SUMMARY: I am not making any of this up. I have photographic proof.]

Now, this isn't *all* the birthday what's fit to print. It's all the birhday I photographed and offloaded. There's the delightful present the nephews got me,§§§ a sassy perfume from Juno¶¶¶ and a truckload of divine chocolate### from my often-Number One Bad Influence%, Nathan.

Stay tuned@...


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): 42, as if I have to explain.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 33, which may need more explanation than 42 in my crowd.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Chicken 'n' waffles with a side of bloody mary bar -- hence, the vodka soaking.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): A place with about 100 canned beers on the menu, ranging from $2 to $8.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Because the man who coined the term "dick chakra" is nothing if not high brow.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I asked for a straw.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Per our conversation that evening, he does recognise this is an occasion wine, but one that probably would't get him laid.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn around when you're three, turn around when you're nine): Brother's nine-year-old self is SO jealous of TSN's nine-year-old self.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (Bambi eyes): Doom has never been so sweetly goofy.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): To-may-to, to-mah-to

$FOOTNOTE (cashed): Kim is so money, and I certainly hope she knows it. *mwah!*

##FOOTNOTE (le pound pound): French for "shiznit."

†††FOOTNOTE (speaking of Jesus): Which is neither in my neighbourhood anymore, nor is it still called Mikey's. Same owner/chef (he's a French-trained Algerian who looks like a compact Andre the Giant and used to wear wife-beaters in the restaurant. We *love* him.), same menu, now called Roma Roma and situated in a strip mall in sunny Arvada.

*FOOTNOTE (asterisked, imagine that): Read: Pet Em[paw]rium and S[paw]. Yeah, I know.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (cat scratch times three): Yes, they say, "meow" in the bowls. Yes, they have cat heads on top. They weight about six pounds, collectively and are beautiful pieces of work.

§§§FOOTNOTE (the creeping heebie-jeebies): Hint: "Dad, what's AntiM most afraid of?"

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (upright citizen): The bottle is worth the price of admission.

###FOOTNOTE (pounds and pounds of chocolate): Which I'm trying to figure out how to artistically photograph so it doesn't look like I've eaten 26 lbs of chocolate in the last week.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Nathan and Juno just keep leapfrogging each other. They should either be honoured or very, very ashamed. For the record, I don't believe either of them is much prone to shame.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Is this like crying wolf at this point? Do I need to re-earn your trust?

Your Gypsy Rover

Tomorrow begins Lake 2009.

I'll be hitting the road with my trusty iPod and the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World to keep me company.

I was gratified to see that my little car is in the top five Most Fun to Drive† While Still Being Fuel-Efficient‡ list from Car and Driver.§

*************

Guilt-Free Fun
by Jared Holstein





2009 Mini Cooper S

26 mpg city/34 mpg highway¶

It’s a real shame the Mini Cooper ownership experience has been ruined by the population of tattooed art-school dropouts who wear skinny jeans and ironic eyeglasses and have claimed it as their own. Lured into dealerships by espresso, wi-fi, and conformity, they leave in numbers driving a fine machine that in turbocharged S form# is just about the most ace combination of fun and fuel efficient that trust funds can buy.

Fear not, enthusiast: Roll down your windows to prove that your upper lip bears no thin mustache and you aren’t listening to electro, and pour yourself into the nearest set of mountains. A fantastic chassis, a six-speed transmission, and 192 pound-feet of torque will help you dispatch stacked hairpins with confidence; it’s this car’s poise that helped it best such machines as the Mazda Miata and Volkswagen GTI on our Lightning Lap. You can also be confident you won’t need to stop for gas on the way home, that you’ll be able to fit in a parking spot once you get there, and that cops will be too busy busting hipster-helmed Minis for coke possession to notice your imprudent velocity.

*************

More later, but for now, join me in basking in the reflected glory.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Duh.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): They don't know the half of it. See ¶, below.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As reported by Comcast.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Mine actually gets 44 mpg on the highway, possibly because...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): ...mine is not turbocharged, but supercharged. In practical terms, this means the new Mini S can take hills faster, but mine will blow it off a light. And, apparently, I get an extra 130 miles per tank when I take a road trip.

Herringbone: That's What She Said

I should be embarrassed to post this.†

If I had any pride% at all...

[SUMMARY: The crux of the biscuit.]

'Cause, see, I finished these socks, what? A month ago? Maybe more?‡

There is one tiny mitigating factor: I was waiting for Kim to get them§ so I didn't step¶ on her glory.

You've been on the edge of your seat this whole time, right?#

[SUMMARY: Socks? What socks? There were socks?]

Here are the pictures I took of Kim's socks in the garden.††






Note the clever calf shaping‡‡:




Public Service Announcement:

Hey, knitters! Toe-up socks are fun and practical and you know all the cool kids are doing them. Just remember, like big boobs and patriotism,§§ the ability to try on socks as you go only works if you USE IT PROPERLY.

[SUMMARY: Do as I say, not as I knit.]

You're welcome.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Since it would be even more embarrassing to reveal that I lost my camera in my own recliner for a panicky twelve hours, I'm calling this the lesser of evils and going with it.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Pride is a SIN. A BIG one. We saints-in-training have no truck with that sort of thing.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Who's counting?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Turns out that was completely in my control too.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Hahaha! Get it? Socks... step... :D

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And judging by the series of thuds echoing around the world, holding your breaths too!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): In the neighbour's garden. They have more green stuff. I was going to explain that I have a red bush, but I know how your mind works and I was trying to avoid the off-colour comments.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I had the forethought to worry about calves, but not an inkling about ankles.

§§FOOTNOTE (still reeling from the depths): How profound, Mr. Wizard.

.-.. .. -.-. -.- - .... . .--. .. --. †

Lest you think I never think of knitting anymore, I am in the process of graphing the Bat Conservation International logo for a nifty tam o' shanter.




And later this week, I'll post pictures of the pair of socks I finished a month ago.




And, FSM willing, the sparkly scarf I'm making from Nathan's brilliant stash contribution.‡

[SUMMARY: I'll keep you coming back for more!]

Meanwhile, I shall share some funny bits lurking in my files.

Like Tippi Hedren in marshmallows§:




And, of course, stupid sparkly vampire snark:




And a whole collection of Savage Chickens that made me snarf%:








Speaking of chicken, I started my birthday with chicken 'n' waffles, a taste treat much lauded by Snoop Dogg, so I felt I had to try it.¶

I am currently developing recipes to make chicken 'n' waffles not quite so much heart-attack-waiting-to-happen.# It's really all about the tobasco and maple syrup, so fat content should be negotiable.

More birthday magic later this week too!

[SUMMARY: I took a couple of marketing classes in college.]

As long as we're talking about food, I just received word from Lucretia-once-Tia that I won a year's supply of Blue Bunny ice cream on a contest on her blog.

[SUMMARY: Don't stand near me. Lightning is about to strike.††]

Yep! It's a staccato blast of pig-licking today. Who knows what cohesiveness or cleverness tomorrow may bring?‡‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Genuine Morse Code! Fun for the whole family! Translation: Lick the pig.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): While I try not to go overboard with WIP pics, I think Nathan should see that his generous gift is going to good and glam use. And it will pad the blog the way only sparkly, sparkly pictures can.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Don't look, Jackson! And don't click the link!

%FOOTNOTE (percented): The last one is, of course, especially for Lyda.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I want to be Snoop Dogg when I grow up, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm thinking non-fried fried chicken and Kashi toaster waffles.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'd like to thank Juno for pointing out that, contrary to my grip on kharma, I will not be struck by lightning to balance out all the good stuff that's happening, but that there is special birthday kharma that allows good things without ass-biting returns.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Yeah, most of you can lay the odds on that, but you never know. I may experience a flash of brilliance.

I Know It When I See It.

That's been a recurring theme lately, hasn't it?†

And most useful for today's brief snark about art. Because I may not know much about art, but this is a French memo board from Target:



I'm pretty sure this makes this...


{Jeremy Moon at the Rocket Gallery via Yatzer‡}

...not art, despite the fact that it has a gallery showing.§

[SUMMARY: You kids get off my lawn!]

This, however, I would categorise as art:




I can't tell you how cool it is to know people from high school about whom you're proud to say, "I knew her when."¶


p.s. -- not in keeping with the high school thing, but Morwynne# posted a couple of recordings to My Space and that's art too.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Surprisingly enough, I'm using it for the art rather than porn.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):

Oh, Yatzer, Yatzer...
such beauty you have given,
now to disappoint.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which reminds me of a premise explored in James Morrow's Only Begotten Daughter, under which the sole criterion for going to Hell is that someone else can imagine you there. Apparently, the only criterion for art is that someone will hang it in a gallery.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Even if I knew her as Kathy, Tia, Kathy and Jeffe rather than Kathryn, Lucretia, Kathryn and -- yes -- still Jeffe.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Who once offered to kneecap an ex-boyfriend for free. You can't say anything bad about Morwynne to me. I simply wouldn't buy it.

The Corner of Lust 'n' Love†

Or the corner of Marin 'n' Quebec.

[SUMMARY: Potayto, Potahto.‡]




Kari was out walking her boy yesterday when she came upon this Greenwood Village street sign.§

And sent me the picture.

[SUMMARY: Kari is my new best friend.]

Guess what I want for my birthday?




It's a big YouTube day, isn't it?

*************

No. 3: The Spirit of Wood - Light Source & Philippe Paparella-Paris (Part 3 in the series)

Marin says: Grapefruit and cigarette smoke.

Right around the edges, a hint of something brown sugar sweet -- fig or currant, maybe. The grapefruit burns off quickly, leaving smoke and a hint of something brown sugar-sweet.

Another light, long-lasting scent. The final amber -- or maybe sandalwood -- throes stuck around until the next day's shower.

Six Scents says: "The inspiration for this fragrance comes from Cosmic Wonder Light Source's nature oriented fahion collection. Inspired by the designers memory of a scent experienced during a walk through a eucalyptus forest, a selection of fresh green top notes were combined with fig leaves and enlightened by green grass playing with fresh cut cypress. The idea was to create a rough and natural fragrance, using a lot of essential oils with a focus on the woody notes such as vetiver and himoki."¶ - Phillippe Paparella-Paris, Perfumer

Ingredients: Green Grass,# Fig Leaves,$ Cypress, Elemi, Coriander, Cedar wood, Vetiver, Himoki, White Amber$

Hans says: It's very earthy. It smells like something I smell a lot, like... trees. Pine trees. I'm getting a lot of wood. I feel like I'm eating wood right now, chewing on bark.††


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Thus:




‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Quebec being well known as the City of Love.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For those unfamiliar with Denverish suburbs, Greenwood Village is one of the best villages, and certainly has the best street signs.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Oh, yeah. Just like I said... grapefruit and cigarettes. *ahem*

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The bitter end of green grass has a LOT in common with grapefruit. *ahem*

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Yes, I'm taking credit for fig leaves. If I don't want to wreck my midterm grade, I should probably fight for credit for "maybe sandalwood" as the closest I got to wood all day. heheheheheheh. Wood.

††FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): For all the Hansisms, Hans got the perfumer's vision much better than I did. In a snit of jealousy, I believe I will start calling him Cosmic Wonder Light Source.

Animal Lefts

Oh, PETA, you silly set of idle hands.

Yesterday, when every news headline and video outlet on the Innernet† was doing play-by-play, replay, colour commentary and recap on President Obama's battle with a pesky fly...




...I said, "I'm surprised we haven't heard from PETA yet."

I was *joking*.

Because I think I'm funny.

Y'know... hyperbole?

[SUMMARY: This is the definition of comic irony.]

Now, in tracking down a news account of PETA's involvement, I ran across another PETA cause that will undoubtedly be buried behind the shiny, media-friendly fly story‡: Pike Place fish flingers are doing a fish-tossing demonstration for some veterinary association gathering.

Important to note:

1. The fish are dead.
2. The fish will be eaten when it's over.
3. These are trained, professional fish flingers.
4. This is all done under veterinary supervision.

We all know how PETA feels about fishing.

Apparently fish flinging is just as bad. Live or dead, fish are our friends.




[SUMMARY: It's all very fishy.§]

The Muppets are in SUCH trouble.¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Hint: there are LOTS of them.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Moscagate!

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): See? This is the comedic genius that quipped that PETA would have something to say about fly-swatting. PETA is in SUCH trouble.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And don't get me started on you, Leslie Uggams!

Saturday in the Park with Shanny

Some happy Saturdays, Shanny has a morning remote,† then an afternoon of Rockies Radio,‡ with a few hours in between to putter.

Some happy Saturdays, I putter with him.

A couple of Saturdays ago was one of those happy days. We decided to explore the relatively new RiNo§ area of Denver.

Once upon a time, when Coors Field first opened, I used to park on Little Raven and walk across desolate fields and many railroad tracks to get to baseball games.

My, how things have changed. It's shiny lofts, trendy restaurants and Commons Park.

I *love* Commons Park. It reminded me so much of a little, tiny¶ Central Park with its art, water, hills and little nooks where for just a moment, you can walk in the wilderness and forget the city mere yards away.




This is a cool and totally useless bit of art.#




It has lofty meaning...




...and when you get to the top, you reach the stairs and go right back down. It's a ramp to a stairway to nowhere...




...with a window to the sky.††




Anything that purposeless with lines that nice *has* to be art.

[SUMMARY: I know it when I see it.]

There are three bridges all in a row in RiNo.

One goes from Commons Park west across the river. The next goes west across the freeway into the Highlands neighbourhood.‡‡ The other is on the other side, going east across the railroad tracks.

First, we crossed the river.




At the foot of the Highlands Bridge, there's more art.§§




It's called National Velvet¶¶ and it... gleams.

[SUMMARY: Shiny!]

We quickly crossed Highlands Bridge and landed right next to the statuary supermarket.##




We gazed on art in a more classic style†††...




...and found duckies.




Across the street, urban hieroglyphics‡‡‡:




Having exhausted the west end of the bridge continuum, we realised the only thing to do to make our day complete was to cross the easternmost bridge: the Millenium Bridge.

Back across the freeway§§§...




..and across the river and onto the Millenium Bridge, with its ship's mast and starburst of cables.¶¶¶




We watched a train.




I was delighted by the simple ingenuity of the bike grooves on the stairs.###




And we gazed out over downtown Denver. This is Union Station.%




We headed south to 15th, where there's a charming viaduct.@




And more artwork tucked away in a stairwell.




We headed west on 15th back to Little Raven and saw this historic building.




According to the plaque, Historic Building No. 19, which you'd think one could look up on any number of registries, but it was a surprising bitch of a research project to find out what Historic Building No. 19 was all about. There's a lot of tangled information involving David Moffat and his brother and I think I gave Shanny my conclusion too soon.

This building is Moffat Station,^ but was indeed part of Moffat's railway empire. I haven't yet figured out what some of the articles are pointing to when they're talking about his brother's property.

Shanny may be the only person who would understand those last two paragraphs. Carry on.

[SUMMARY: Dot your Ts and cross your Is.]

It was time for Shanny to get back and wire up for the Rockies pre-show. Besides, we were exhausted. A couple of hours of wandering and stairs and bridges and cranes will drive a person to a good night's sleep.

It only seemed appropriate that this was the last artwork we saw on our adventure:




†FOOTNOTE (crossed): As they say on the Colorado Morning News, "...engineer Shannon Scott." And I always talk back to the radio and say, "Hi, Shanny!"

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 850 KOA, home of your Rockies, Broncos and Buffs.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): River North.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): ...itty, bitty, wee, miniscule, a percentage of a percentage...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not entirely unlike the scene above it -- Shanny called it Windows desktop -- but more abstract.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Though I like to think it's some sort of solar calendar thingie that tells us when to sacrifice the virgins.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Home of your dear ol' AntiM.

§§FOOTNOTE (that's me, shaking my head): Um... "art."

¶¶FOOTNOTE (*headbonk*): Of COURSE it is.

##FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Not its real name.

†††FOOTNOTE (a tres of statuary): read: with boobs. I had a statuary penis too, but in a fit of feminism I forgot to upload it.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (on the wrong track): Pie, house plant, coffee, saucepan?

§§§FOOTNOTE (turn around and around): You may notice I have a thing for architectural stuff. I have whole volumes of vacation photos that are nothing but brick walls and trestles.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (not using my head head head): Any decent tourguide would have taken a picture of the mastiness of the bridge instead of just the weird up-angle.

###FOOTNOTE (three pounds of impressed in a two pound bag): I am so easily amused.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): With a crane.

@FOONOTE (atted): And another crane.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Dear Shanny, in case you're reading this, I don't even remember David Moffat's brother's name, but it isn't his house.