HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO US!

My wife, Tamara, and I share the same birthday – January 29. However, we do not share the same birth year. I tell people we were twins separated at birth – 7 years apart. Some people get a little weird when they find out we are married and share the same birthday, like it is some kind of freak of nature. Well, maybe it is. One of the strangest examples is when we were returning from a trip out of the country. The U. S. Customs agent looked at our passports, looked at us, and said, “Did you two know you have the same birthday?” I felt like responding, “Really? No, we’re married and we just don’t communicate that sort of information. Thanks for the insight.” However, I wanted to get through customs quickly, so I just said, “Yes, we do,” and headed through the airport.

Now we have added a new angle. The white Golden Retriever, Aspen, we acquired in 2009 shares her half-birthday the same day as ours as she was born on July 29. So, on January 29 we now celebrate 2 ½ birthdays, and this year it was a really fun one.

Tamara and I started the day by performing the annual ritual of exchanging birthday cards and smooches. This day was also the day of the annual county health fair where we can get all our blood work done for a really good price. Because of that, we had been fasting for about 12 hours before we headed out the door without breakfast to Ridgway’s 4H Center about 10 miles south down the road from Ouray. Fortunately, we were able to drink black coffee before the blood tests, so I didn’t have to drive the winding highway bleary-eyed and with one eye open.

We made it to the Health Fair at about 8:30am and our timing was good as we did not have to wait in any lines. We registered (Registrar: “Hey, it’s your birthday!” Me: “Really?”) and went right to the vampire table where they were drawing the blood. Usually my blood draws are a piece of cake because of some decent arteries, but this time the technician had a bit of a problem getting the needle just right. I had the pleasure of watching here move the needle around inside my arm until she finally found the right angle to cause the blood to start gushing into the 3 vials needed for the blood work. That chore accomplished, we wondered around the exhibits for a while, and this being a county of about 4300 people, we knew half the people in attendance. After chatting with those we knew, we headed out the door to break our fast at Kate’s Place in Ridgway. As is the case every year, half the people at the Health Fair had the same plan. While our stomachs growled, we stood and waited for about 15 minutes before commandeering a table that hadn’t been wiped yet. Maybe there would be a few morsels to nibble while waiting for a menu.

Tamara had the chorizo burrito (hold the chorizo) while I had the skillet breakfast with 2 eggs to get my cholesterol level back up to its usual level. It was yummy, but after fasting for that long, yesterday’s plate scrapings would have been delicious.

After taking a ride through the car wash to clean off the road salt, mud, fly ash, and other things clinging to the Ford Expedition, we headed back to Ouray.

We made a brief stop at our store to drop off some cash register money for our worker, and then headed back to the house. Our next item on the day’s festivities was snowshoeing. We got into our snow gear, packed up some goodies for the trip, got Aspen and headed for the Ice Park Trail. The Ice Park Trail is a nice, fairly flat 2 mile trail that parallels the Ouray Ice Climbing Park for one mile, crossed the Uncompahgre River and then returns on the other side. We parked at the trial head, got all the camera gear, celebratory liquids, and doggie essentials gathered and finally set off on trail, but not before donning our snowshoes. Of course Aspen, who loves the snow, started exploring the trail back and forth and zig-zagging to and fro that would make her distance of the trail 2 or 3 times what Tamara and I would do.

We headed off on trail and soon encountered some ice climbers coming back from a climb and Aspen provided them a warm greeting. We soon came to the halfway point of the trail where we had to climb a few stairs to get over the 4-foot penstock (water pipe) that feeds water from the reservoir to the town. Aspen does not like the metal stairs used in snow country, so Tamara negotiated the stairs in her snowshoes and got to the other side. I then lifted up the 60-pound Aspen and she was then off and running. The next obstacle was a narrow footbridge over the river that Aspen has refused to negotiate in the past during the summer. Before we knew it, Aspen was already on the snow-covered footbridge standing there looking back at us with a look of, “What’s taking you guys so long?” So then we were off on the second half of the trail.

We were now on the sunny side of the trail and the temps were a bit warmer and the snow a bit slushier as we broke trail through the snow. After about another half mile, we found a nice sunny area with a dry rock that seemed appropriate for a break. We shed our snowshoes and Tamara took out the bottle of champagne and plastic glasses from her pack. She took the wire off the bottle and sat it in the snow to chill. A few minutes later we heard a POP and saw the champagne bottle had uncorked itself due to the altitude and the jostling of the bottle on trail.

We sat in the warm sun and enjoyed a champagne birthday toast while drinking in the incredible views which surrounded us. After about an hour of drinking the champagne, watching Aspen romp in the snow (she found the cork missile that had launched into the air and landed in the snow about 50 fee away), and taking some pictures, we packed up, shoed up, and headed back on the trail. Things were proceeding nicely with Tamara in the lead until she came to an icy slush patch on the trail. She decided it was safe to walk across it. Not a good decision. Suddenly her snowshoe sank into the sun drenched slush and she ended up in icy water that came in over the top of her boots. The boot and attached snowshoe were now sucked into the slush and were not about to be easily extracted. After assessing the situation, Tamara decided to unlace her boot. First her foot was extracted. Then we pulled her boot liner from her boot. The next step was me taking off my gloves and reaching down to the snowshoe and liberating the snowshoe and attached boot from the icy grip of the slush (sounds pretty dramatic, huh?). While Tamara put her foot ware back on, we discussed what Survivor Man would have done and then headed back on the trail at a quicker pace to get back to the vehicle.

We made it back with no threat of frostbite (fortunately it wasn’t really that cold) and headed back to the house to get out of our cold weather gear and into a hot shower. That being accomplished we got into bed for a short nap [and fill in the blank here] before the next activity of the day.

At about 6:30 we headed down to the Ouray House Brewery to hang out with the Saturday Night Gang. Tamara and I split a beer of great microbrew before heading to The Outlaw Restaurant (Home of one of John Wayne’s hats he wore during the filming of the first True Grit movie here in Ouray County) for dinner. For some reason I was not in the mood for any more beer and ordered a margarita. It was yummy. I mentioned to Tamara it is interesting how different alcohols have a different affect on our bodies. I could feel the tequila causing a little tingly sensation all over my body. It felt so good I ordered another margarita. Tamara had a glass of wine and it all went well with our delicious dinners. Of course we had to go through the ordeal of the “birthday announcement” and song by the staff to the rest of the restaurant, but the ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate syrup made it worth it.

We were the last ones to leave The Outlaw, but not before we stopped and had a conversation with the old time piano player on our way out. That and a short stroll down Main Street Ouray were the end to a perfect birthday for us.

Bear Encounters - WCT Training Hike #2: Kelly’s Campground

As part of our training for the 8-day, 50-mile hike of Canada’s West Coast Trail (WCT) ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Coast_Trail ), we had decided to take a hike up into the local Southern California mountains at the end of June 1999. Our group consisted of my wife Tamara, her 12-year-old son Ryan, Steve, Chris and me. We also took along our Golden Retriever, Charly. Even though the maximum altitude of Victoria Island’s WCT is 385 feet, our destination was Kelly’s Campground, located southeast of Mt. Baldy, a 10,004 foot peak about 50 miles east of Los Angeles.

In addition to our camping gear needed for the weekend, our backpacks included a bottle of wine in each of the packs belonging to those of legal drinking age. We should have strapped a bottle to Charly as a reserve for that evening’s campsite festivities.

After consuming our dinners we poured more wine and Chris brought out his camping surprise treat. No, not S’mores, but popcorn!! We popped the third of four wine bottles and poured more wine. It was about at this time that one of the scout masters from down below visited our camp. We thought he was going to chastise us for drinking wine, but he probably wished he could have partaken of some and not had to worry about his troop of minors. Instead he came to advise us that bears were seen in the area the night before and he said we needed to be sure to get every food item out of our tent and along with our trash should be hung out of bears’ reach. We took in his advice as we took in more wine, and thanked him for the warning. He retreated to his camp as we re-treated ourselves to another sip of wine.

We took all our food containers, garbage bag, and anything that could be consumed, and hung it about 20 feet above our camp site on a line strung between two trees. Tamara, Ryan, Charly, and I retired to our tent, tried to arrange ourselves around Charly the tent-hog, and finally fell into a state of slumber with visions of pinecones dancing in our heads. All was quiet and peaceful until …

… The Beer Bear Invasion

At about 12:30am we were awakened by Steve bellowing, "There's a bear in the tree outside my tent! If he falls out of the tree he'll fall on my tent!" Now, you have to realize Steve himself was a big teddy bear of about 6 foot 4 inches and 230 pounds.

We all went out to inspect the scene. Sure enough, 20 feet up the trunk of the tree was your average 300 pound brown bear sitting comfortably on a limb and slowly ripping into our garbage bag. Obviously we had not tied it out far enough from the tree and the bear had just reached out and helped himself to the contents. As we stood and pondered what to do, Tamara grabbed some of our camping pots and pans and started banging them together in hopes of scaring off the bear. The rest of us joined in and also started yelling at the bear. It only caused him to look down at us with a look of annoyance as he pulled out the first of the wine bottles. CLINK! The bottle hit the pine needles and rocks below.

We called Charly to come out of the tent to see if she could start barking and scare the bear down. Being the disciplined and smart Golden Retriever she is, she opted to stay in the safety of the “condo.” CLINK! The second wine bottle hit the dirt.
The humans in our party started yelling louder at the bear to get its attention. He continued to rummage through the contents of the garbage. CLUNK! Musta been that heavy cabernet.

At this point I figured the best way to stop the bear was to get the rope holding the rest of our food and belongings out of his reach, so I started untying the rope from the trunk of the tree. As I was doing so, CLINK, the final bottle landed at the bottom of the tree. I had one end of the rope untied from the tree and firmly in my hand. At that point the bear gave up on the garbage bag and reached out and snagged Steve’s toiletry bag at his end of the rope. He was drawn to the sweet aroma of the toothpaste and had been able to extract it from the bag, use one of his claws to rip open the metal tube, and start licking the toothpaste while holding the toiletry bag tied to the rope in his other paw. While he was a bit distracted but still holding the toiletry bag, I yanked on my end of the rope. That got his attention. Not sure that was such a good thing. He pulled back. I pulled harder while thinking, “You’re not getting Steve’s stuff!”

We went back and forth in a game of tug-of-war for a few seconds until I pulled hard enough to free the bag from his grip. I don’t know who was more surprised about what just happened, me or the bear. We looked at each other like, “How the hell did that happen?”

Now the bear had no reason to be in the tree and seemed to be looking around for an escape route. We re-commenced to pounding pots and pans together and some of us started chucking rocks at the bear. He finally started to descend from the tree, his claws scraping against the bark and making us aware of the personal weapon he had the potential of using against us. As he got closer to the ground we all stepped back, except for Charly, who was still keeping a vigilant watch on the inside of the tent and making sure our blowup mattress stood its ground.

The bear finally hit the ground, looked for the path of least resistance and ambled away from us and the campground up the hill. He stopped about 25 yards away from us and turned around to look at us. Again we yelled, chased after him, and threw rocks. He finally got the message and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Figuring this was the last we would see of the bear, we retied our food and stuffs in the same tree, but a bit further out of reach. We felt comfortable with the job we had done and headed back into our respective tents.

Just as I had fallen back into a peaceful sleep, we were again awakened by a ruckus in our campsite. We stepped out again only to see the bear ascending the tree. This time we were able to scare him away without him climbing all the way up the tree and without another game of tug-of-war. This was good as I was in no mood for any more bear camp games.

We decided to find a better spot to tie the food away from our tents. It was further up the hill and harder to reach. Again, we headed back to the tents to get some sleep.

But this pesky, more determined than the average bear was not to be discouraged. This time he bypassed the tree experience and instead opted to rummage through the pots and pans and raise a ruckus with what had been used to scare him away on his previous visits. It was as though he was trying to use our own method to scare us back from where WE had come. But it didn’t work. Once more we exited our tents. Chris even came out in such a hurry that he still had his sleeping blindfold on and he was pissed off! “I’ve had enough!” he yelled and started hurling the biggest rocks and epitaphs he could muster and again chased the bear up the hill and into the darkness. That must have done the trick because the bear had not attempted to disturb our food that time and thankfully that was the last we ever saw of the bear. But it was not the last sign of the bear. We retired to our tents for the fourth time.

The sun came up and I awoke and lay in my tent just listening to the sounds of nature outside my tent. Fortunately, a sound I did not hear was anything to do with bears.

I did finally get out of my tent and the others were starting breakfast and gathering up our scattered belongings the bear had strewn about. Chris kept looking around and asked if anyone had seen his beer mug he had used last night for hot chocolate. It was no where to be seen. We surmised the bear had been attracted to the sweetness of the chocolate remnants in the mug during his third visit and had taken off with it back to his lair. So there's this bear around Kelly’s Campground up near Mt. Baldy that is probably sitting in his cave, hoisting Chris's Beer mug, singing beer drinking songs, drinking brews with his bruin buddies, and thinking of his next bear invasion.

© 2005 Bruce Gulde
© 2005 8 Yellow Snow

Maui not so Wowee

Just a short little thought for now. We really had a good time during our week on Maui and I will go into more detail in a later post, but this is just something for nowie.

I have been travelling to Hawaii since about 1982. Tamara and I just returned from a week in Maui. On the return flight to Los Angeles Airport, I mentioned to Tamara the difference in flying to Hawaii my first time as opposed to our most recent adventure.

On my first flight in the ‘80s I remember getting onto the plane and hearing Hawaiian music with ukuleles, slide guitars, and singing that created visions in my head of hula dancers. The stewardesses (yes, we still called them stewardesses at that time) wore Hawaiian attire and warm smiles above the fragrant, floral leis around their necks. We had been greeted with “Aloha” and heard in-flight messages with a final punctuation of “Mahalo!”

During this most recent trip in the 21st century, there was no Hawaiian music during the entire flight, the United Airlines flight attendants donned the standard corporate suit, and not once during our 5 ½ hour flight to Maui did I hear a single “Aloha” or “Mahalo.” On a side note, during one beverage service, the first flight attendant asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I requested coffee. Before she could serve it to me, the beverage cart was moved and continued down the aisle. The second flight attendant at the beverage cart stopped just to the row behind me. I still wanted coffee and attempted to vocally get her attention. When she obviously did not hear me and did not respond, I touched the back of her arm to get her attention. When she turned around to look at me, I saw a look from her as though I had just stuck her with a needle from a syringe containing HIV!

Once we arrived in Maui, again I did not hear an “Aloha” or “Mahalo” unless I spoke it. In fact, when I did say the words, I received looks as though I had just handed them a warm turd (my honor to J. D. Salinger’s character in “Catcher In The Rye”).

Ah, well, obviously Hawai’i has now officially become Americanized. Sad.

One last thing: Howaya doin’?

Breakin' the Maui Curse

Tamara and I will be visiting Maui at the end of January 2010. This will be her second visit to Maui and my fifth. Some wonder why I would want to return for a fifth time, so I have posted a write-up from our previous visit around the turn of the century that lays out the reason for the return.

By the way, we have rented a Jeep for this return adventure. ;-)

Lovin’ and Livin’ To The Music of Gail Swanson
By Bruce Gulde

My wife, Tamara, and I had just completed a day of sightseeing on Maui, Hawaii in June of 2001. This was my fourth visit to Maui, but it was Tamara’s first time on the island. We decided to steer our rental Jeep into Lahaina for a nice cold beer and a huge hunk of meat, so we figured what better place to start our evening than a burger place I had visited in the past – Cheeseburger In Paradise.

It was around 6:00pm and as we walked through the door of the open-aired restaurant we could see that it had its usual tourist-and-locals-packed-wall-to-wall atmosphere. I guided Tamara up the stairs to the second floor where I knew there was a great view of the harbor of this former whaling village and, of course, a bar serving microbrew beer. We took a couple of stools at the end of the bar. As we looked outside and took in the beauty of the island and the ocean, we raised our glasses to a toast for a wonderful time together.

Soon, Tamara needed to make a trip to the restroom, and as she left I started to reflect on my previous trips to Maui. I realized that this was my fourth trip to Maui and each time I had traveled here it had been with a different woman – two previous wives, a girlfriend from England, and now Tamara. It seemed like there was some sort of curse that the Maui gods had put upon me because each time I brought someone with me to Maui we would end up eventually breaking up. As I took another sip of beer, I suddenly realized that I had never brought any of the previous women back for a second time! I definitely didn’t want the same fate to be in store for the current marriage of Tamara and me.

Ding! Ding! Ding! The alarms in my head rang and a light suddenly came on – what I needed to do to break the curse was to ensure that Tamara and I returned to Maui – and the sooner the better!

When Tamara returned I informed her of my sudden insight and that we must plan to return to Maui at our earliest convenience to break the curse. She was all in agreement to that and we toasted again to our vow to return.

As we were sitting and chatting with others who were enjoying the surroundings, the evening’s musician appeared at a small stage at the opposite end of the room. In between were tables where patrons were eating burgers and consuming exotic-looking drinks.

As the singer, Gail Swanson, began her set, Tamara and I became a couple in the corner of the burger joint with open windows and the sounds of street traffic below wafting into the room and mingling with the other sights, sounds, and fragrances in the air.

After Gail Swanson’s first set, we knew we enjoyed her music enough to buy copies of her CDs that she had for sale next to her on the stage. We bought two of her CDs and she came by to speak to us for a bit as she went to rest up for her next set.
We decided to stay for another of Gail’s sets, get a bite to eat, and head back to our hotel on the other part of the island. Her second set was just as satisfying as the first, and we left Cheeseburger In Paradise with good food in our bellies and good songs in our hearts.

We started up the Jeep and headed out to our hotel in Wialea, driving on the highway which edges next to the Pacific Ocean. The palm trees that could be seen in the darkness along the side of the road and the whitecaps on breakers in the distant surf reflecting moonlight acted as sirens and lured me into pulling the Jeep off the road and onto a nearby beach.

Tamara knew what I had in mind, and we popped one of Gail Swanson’s freshly bought CDs into the Jeep’s CD player. With the sounds of great music, breaking surf, palm fronds whispering above us, and the feel of the Hawaiian trade winds, Tamara and I made love in paradise.

With a warm afterglow, we then continued our journey back to our hotel. I had another spur of the moment idea and told Tamara that I had always wanted to drive while I was naked. Well, being that it was a typical tropical night of balmy weather, the road back to the hotel was without streetlights for most of the way, and the drive wasn’t all that far, I figured this was a golden opportunity to live out another one of my crazy desires. So I drove back to the hotel feeling free and as “naked as a Jaybird,” as my mother used to say.

Tamara and I joked and giggled on our way back to the hotel. As we neared our hotel, I realized it may not be a good idea to drive up to valet parking without a stitch of clothing. Besides, I didn’t want to scare away any of the other hotel guests! There were 4 hotels in a row where we were staying, and ours was on the far end of the string. So I came up with a plan -- I would pull into the hotel that was next to ours and at least put on some shorts before we got to our final destination.

Still giggling, we drove into the designated hotel where their ever-diligent valet came out to greet our Jeep as we were rolling up. Not wanting to stop and have him see my nekkidness, I drove right by him and we waved to him with big ol’ grins on our faces. I stopped the Jeep about 50 yards beyond where the valet had been standing, but I noticed in my rearview mirror that he was approaching our vehicle. I told Tamara he was walking our way, but she knew me well enough to know that him walking towards us would not stop me from my mission.

I opened the door of the Jeep and stepped out with my back to the approaching valet. I grabbed my shorts and bent over to put them on, thus providing the valet with a Full Moon as I proceeded to put on my shorts and then zip them up. I zipped back into the still-running Jeep with Gail Swanson’s CD playing, closed the door, and again looked in the rearview mirror as I put the Jeep into gear and stole away into the night. There I saw the valet walking away and shaking his head, while probably thinking, “Just another crazy tourist!”

Since we returned to our home on the mainland in Long Beach, California, where we continue to listen to and enjoy the music of Gail Swanson on her CDs. Each time we listen to her we flashback to the great times we had while on Maui and specifically that one evening. Tamara and I will be returning shortly to Maui, visit that burger joint with no windows, being a couple sitting in the corner, listening to another set or three of Gail Swanson, and also enjoying any other island adventures that may await us there. We gotta break that curse, too, don’tcha know?

© 2003

Winter Salts Us

Well, Winter Solstice has occurred and we are in the first full day of winter. This is one of the days of the year I look forward to as the amount of daylight becomes longer as the old Sol starts travelling higher in the sky. Sol, he’s good for the soul, especially this pagan one.

The town of Ouray, Colorado celebrated Festivus this past Sunday. It was a grand celebration on one of the side avenues off Main Street. It had been a balmy 40+ degrees in the afternoon, but once old Sol disappeared behind the western ridge of the San Juan Mountains, old Jack Frost started nipping at our noses. But there were burn barrels to keep our exteriors toasty while there were various beers and other imbibements to warm our interiors. There was even a vendor there selling ice cream. He seemed out of place but was drawing a lot of business. And then there were the fire dancers with their blazing batons, fans, and spinning fire pots and flaming ice. It was quite a street fair for this small town. These events always remind me of episodes of Northern Exposure, as Ouray is about the same population as the fictional town of Cicely, Alaska and has as many quirky characters – and we are one of them.

So to all: Have a Wonderful Winter whether it be in the snowy mountains, sandy beaches, or the flatlands.

One Last Thing: I saw Saul on the Salton Sea aside Sol sun screening with saline solution during the Solstice.

Nothing Like a Warm Roll …

… of toilet paper. Yes, I accidently discovered a simple pleasure of life the other day. (If you are not into bathroom humor, you may want to eliminate this blog from your reading room)

Tamara was taking a shower in our main bathroom the other day, so when nature called me I headed downstairs to one of our other bathrooms – the one just off the kitchen. Being a cold morning in Southwestern Colorado, I turned on the floorboard register in that bathroom that happens to be to the right of the toilet. After reading a couple of short articles in Men’s Journal, it was time to use the toilet paper. The toilet paper roll holder is placed about a foot and a half above the heat source, and as I unrolled the paper from its spool, I could feel its warmth in my hand. I knew at that moment what I was about to experience. Just as I had anticipated, it was a true unexpected pleasure – kinda like warm butt’er being applied to fresh buns.

This reminded me of the house in Northwestern Ohio my six siblings and I spent our formative years. This house had a furnace in the basement that was lucky to keep us from seeing our breath on a cold winter day, and for a family of nine, only one bathroom. The one luxurious feature in the bathroom was the heater vent next to the toilet. Needless to say, there were a lot of times where an impatient family member would knock on the door and interrupt many a warming of the buns.

Well, lucky for you, I have reached the end of this short roll.

One Last Thing: Did American Indians have TP in their teepees? Tee hee!

Happy Anniversary to Us!

I woke up this morning at around 7am to take the dog, Aspen, outside for her morning ritual. Fortunately, it had not snowed any more during the night, so there was only about 12 inches of fresh powder on the ground. Before I ventured outside I checked the indoor/outdoor thermometer. It showed the current temperature to be 9 degrees and the low during the night had gotten down to 8 degrees. I took Aspen out and let her romp for a while. After about 5 minutes she was lifting her paws one at a time as though she had hurt them. I finally realized she was lifting them out of the snow because the poor doggy’s doggies were COLD! I took her inside to warm up.

Today is the 14th Wedding Anniversary of Tamara and me. I would have liked to lie in the nice warm bed for a while, but got out of bed for two reasons – the aforementioned doggy duties, and Wednesdays are trash days. I had to go down to the store and set out the trash at the curb. Due to city ordinances written to keep the critters out of the trash (like crows, dogs, and in the summer time, bears!), we are not able to set the trash out the night before and stay snug as a bug in bed the next morn. So I went down to prep the trash (more on that another time) and set it outside.

After I had completed the weekly rubbish routine, I headed over to the local Backstreet Bagels shop to get breakfast to go for Tamara and me. They make a great Omelet, amongst other delectable dishes, and I took it home with the intent of sitting in bed and partaking of the warm fare. As I walked in the door and stared up the stairway to our bedroom, I could see Tamara had already dressed. She stated that it was pretty warm already in the bedroom. We have large south-facing windows that allow the solar energy to do its thing when there is no cloud cover, as was the case this morning. After being in and out of the single digit weather for the last hour, I thought, “Pretty warm sounds good!” Then Tamara says, “Oh, how nice, you brought breakfast. Would you like to eat it in the sun on the deck?” My first reaction to myself was, “Hell, no. Do you know how cold it is out there?!” But then I gave it further thought, knew the sun was shining and there was no wind, and decided it may not be a bad idea, especially since I was already bundled up and by now it had warmed up to a balmy 15 degrees.

So we headed for the deck and sat outside on a crisp, clear, blue-sky, clean air, Ouray Colorado morning and enjoyed one of the many reasons we live here – and why we enjoy our lives together.

One Last Thing: In the winter do the evergreens ever pine for summer?

There’Snow Business Like Snow Business!

OK, the title is a bit corny (like corn snow the skiers are familiar with), but it’s been a while since my last blog entry and I’m a bit rusty. Perhaps I’ll warm up as things go along here and I start writing more frequently.

We woke up to the results of Ouray’s first almost-Winter snow storm this morning. We had some snow in November, but that was the wet, heavy stuff and most of it had melted into the appropriate waterways. I believe this snow is here to stay for the rest of the season and laying a nice foundation for those yet to come.

Tamara and I lifted the blinds this morning to check out the accumulation. It appeared to be 6 to 9 inches on our upper deck. Not bad. We decided not to shovel the decks and roof yet as it was still snowing and predictions were for another 24 hours of the stuff. We decided to lie in bed for a while and sip our coffee as we looked out our bedroom windows at the newly snow-covered San Juan Mountains.

We now also have another element in our life’s equation – a dog! We picked up a Golden Retriever puppy in Greely, Colorado in October. She’s a beautiful dog. Her name is Aspen since she has the same coloring as the trunk of an Aspen tree. Aspen is a white-colored Golden Retriever, which comes from her European mix. She is off-white enough that we haven’t lost her in the snow yet.

Even though we delayed the removal of snow at the house, I still had to go to our store, Mountain Fever Shirts & Gifts, and move the snow off the sidewalks there. I say sidewalks because we have a corner location, so we get to shovel the front and side sidewalks. If we only had a sidewalk in the front, would it be a frontwalk?

As I was shoveling and not expecting much business today because of the weather, two women walked by and asked if anything in town was open. I pointed to our store and said this one is open. Of course a sign on the door that says OPEN and a neon OPEN sign above the door must leave a question in some people’s mind. They were from Southern California and naturally asked about the winter weather in Ouray. I gave my canned speech about being from SoCal and not missing it at all, and that when I am shoveling snow I remind myself I would rather be shoveling snow than sitting in traffic on a rush hour freeway! Besides, with all the shoveling, who needs CrossFit?!

That’s it for today. The goal is to make more frequent entries here and comment more about things that have happened in our lives since last spring.

One Last Thing: I had to go to the local Ouray Variety Store today to get some stuff to de-ice the sidewalk and an energizer for my flashlight. I told the clerk I was there for A Salt and Battery!

Happy Tax Day Eve!

Well, it’s here upon us. Most of us survived the Ides of March without a Ceasure, and now the bane of employed Americans is nigh – Tax Day. Some have already filed and gotten their refund while the rest of us wait until the last day to submit our dues to Uncle Sam and the Infernal Revenue Service for the privilege of living the US of A. On the 15th the big city newscasts will have a reporter stationed at the post office drop off that stays open until the official filing deadline of midnight. They will report on the procrastinators and show the lines of those dropping off their tax returns just before midnight. Watching such reports can be overly taxing.

It has still been spring time conditions here in the San Juan Mountains – sunny and warm one day and rain or snow the next. It has been fairly mild the last two days, but a cold front is blowing this way and moisture in the form of flakes. At least it doesn’t stick and no shoveling required. I guess I’ll just have to do pushups for exercise.

One last thing: If gainful employment creates income tax, does being unemployed cause anxiety attax?

Mother Nature's April Fools Day

Well, Mother Nature had her little April Fools joke here in Ouray, Colorado today. This morning showed the results of snowing about 3-4 inches last night. I got up to get the morning coffee and looked outside to see some blue sky to the north and figured the sun would make quick work of melting the new snow off the roads and sidewalks by noon. Figuring I would help things along, I went to the shop to pick up some recyclables to bring up to our curbside pickup at home since the Waste Management will not pick up recycled material, especially cardboard, at the office location. Go figure. While I was at the shop I figured I would go ahead and shovel the sidewalks and have them nice and clear for when we opened the stores at 11am and the sun would be shining.

After getting back home and putting the recyclable cardboard at our curb, I went back into the house to have a second cup of organic and locally roasted coffee. As I sipped the hot brew, out the window I noticed blizzard conditions. Where the hell did that come from? Tamara and I continued to get ready to go to work and the snow continued to fall from the sky in all different directions. We headed out at 11am, and after I brushed off the 4 inches of new snow that had accumulated on our truck during the hour I had been home, we headed out the driveway and turned left on Oak Street. Some guy was walking his schnauzer without a leash and the dog almost ran under the truck. I started down the Oak Street hill and noticed the trash truck heading up the hill. Since Oak Street is a 1 ½ lane street, I pulled into the nearest driveway and turned around to head the other way. Even in 4-wheel drive I was spinning the tires a bit and the trash truck was trying to keep its momentum going and not coming to a stop, thus causing my rearview mirror to be filled with the image of the grill of the Waste Management truck. I was able to get headed straight and took the long way around to the shops and used some side streets to navigate the partially plowed streets of Ouray.

We made it to the shops and opened the stores. Of course, the weather was not conducive to shopping, so for the most part, shoppers stayed off the streets. Oh, well, there are always more shirts to be folded and back rooms to organize. I hope Mother Nature enjoyed her little April Fools Day joke. We were not amused.

However, the forecast for tomorrow is for a full day of sunshine and warmer temperatures. We’ll see how that works out.

One last thing: If April showers bring May flowers, when did the pilgrims get here?

Beware The Tides Of March

Here in Ouray, Colorado it appears March will be going out as a hybrid of Lion and Lamb. After a few weeks of mild spring weather with high temperatures sometimes near 70, Mother Nature turned back the clock and decided to let winter stick around for a bit longer. About a week ago the temperatures started falling, or should I say springing, back towards winter climes. With the lower temperatures came some spring snow. It has been snowing on and off for the last week – sometimes a little, sometimes a lot! Within the last 24 hours it has snowed about 12 inches. Over the last week it has probably snowed about 24 or more inches here in town at 7800 feet. Who knows how much has accumulated at the higher levels. This final day of March started out sunny with plenty of blue sky, but by noon had turned to grey sky and the scent of snow in the air. March can be as changeable as the tides.

The good thing about spring snow is that the ground is no longer frozen and it tends to melt fairly quickly on the streets and sidewalks while covering up the brown spots from previous melting. By melting quickly, that means less shoveling. However, what shoveling there is to do is with wet snow and can be like moving around wet concrete.

The other thing about this time of year is the locals can get complacent about their driving and think the road conditions are better than they actually are. Just yesterday I was shoveling the sidewalk in front of our stores when the local emergency siren located above City Hall went off. The emergency siren is a throwback to the mining days when the siren would sound three times to indicate that there had been an accident at one of the local mines and all local emergency personnel were needed. That still holds true today. The Ouray Volunteer Fire Department and Ouray County Emergency Services still use the siren to call out the volunteers to respond to an emergency. So, the siren went off about 11am and the sirens on the emergency vehicles started wailing and heading northbound. I found out later one of the long-time locals had tried to negotiate one of the well-known curves that was still icy and ended up in the Uncompahgre River. Luckily she was ok as was rescued before hypothermia had taken its toll.

The other thing about this time of year is the results of our buying trip to Denver at the end of February. The merchandise has started to arrive and most of it is T-shirts. That means checking it in and then folding those shirts that don’t get hung up in the showroom, and we are talking numbers of shirts in the thousands!! Folding, folding, folding, keep them shirts a movin’. It is like in the autumn we get the autumn foliage and in the spring we get spring foldiage.

That’s it for this March Madness. I plan to submit more in April and not be such a fool.

One last thing: If warm weather in the fall is called Indian Summer, is cold weather in the spring called April Fools? I take that back. Whatever it is called, here in Ouray we just get Ute to it.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chief_Ouray

St. Patrick's Day Eve

March 16, 2009

It’s St. Patrick’s Day eve. I’m already practicing. Some of us seasoned drinkers refer to such “drinking days” like Cinco de Mayo, New Year’s Eve, and St. Patrick’s Day as Amateur Night. That’s when the amateur drinkers come out to play and embarrass themselves. Leave the serious drinking to us pros. :-)

It’s a slow keyboard day here in Ouray, but I plan to submit more in the coming days, after I get over my St. Patrick’s Daze.

Speaking of drinking daze, we are noticing the spring break crowd coming into Ouray. Unlike Florida, Padre Island in Texas, and Baja Mexico, the spring breakers coming into Ouray are more interested in the ice in the Ouray Ice Park than the blended ice in margaritas and Long Island Iced Teas.

One last thing: What do you call a frigid flirt in New York – a Long Island Iced Tease.

Back in Ouray

Well, did March come in like lamb or a lion. It would depend where you are, no?

Tamara and I made it through the Denver Gift Show and did a lot of buying for our stores. The fortunate thing is that most of it won’t be delivered until May and it doesn’t have to be paid for it until July or August. We heard a lot of positive stuff from vendors about their sales being up and hearing from their customers that attendance at the national parks, resorts, and destination locations (of which Ouray is one) is projected to be up for 2009. The reservations for lodging in Ouray for the summer season are up for this same time last year. People just want to get away.

The exit from Denver was another adventure. We were going to drive back the same way we had come in from Ouray (minus the flatbed tow truck), but as we were heading in that direction to get on the main highway over Monarch Pass and through Gunnison and Montrose, I missed the turnoff for highway 285. We figured out how to get back to it by a detour. As we got close, I turned one street too soon (nowhere I’ve been has as good as road signage as California) and had to make a U-turn and finally got back on another highway that would take us to our desired 285. On the approach to 285 there was some road construction, and with no warning signs they had the exit we needed to take blocked off. It was either continue to the next exit, turn around, and get the exit from the other side, or take a couple more miles and get to Interstate 70 – the route we normally take. Screw it! I-70 it is!

Then the worry was about the weather over Vail Pass, which gets snow at the drop of any barometric pressure. Having not yet had breakfast, we stopped in Frisco (that would be Frisco, Colorado not San Francisco, California, which hates being called “Frisco.”) at a familiar diner from the past and had our repast. The weather looked good ahead and we forged on to the west. The only memorable thing about the trip was seeing big-horned sheep along side the highway as we got close to Glenwood Springs, but then, we see those along the highway just north of Ouray.

We stopped in Montrose to pick up some crystal products for one of our stores, get the cat out of kitty jail, pick up info from our accountant, get supplies at Office Depot, beer and wine from the liquor store, food from the grocery store, gas for the Expedition, wash the Expedition, and head the last 35 miles to Ouray. Can you tell we don’t like going to Montrose and do as much there in one trip as possible?

Driving into Ouray we could see that no snow had fallen during our absence and the ground was looking barren and brown. With March and April being the wettest months, it is just a matter of whether the wetness will be in the form of rain or snow. Snow would be preferred at this point.

So things are back to abnormal and we have customers coming into the store. There are 25 ice climbers from Spain in town this week who have been coming in the store for clothes and souvenirs to take back to those left at home. We call that type of buying “guilt gifts.” Even though I lived in Southern California for 35 years, I was not much assistance when the Spaniards were asking me questions about their potential purchases. One guy bought a child’s t-shirt and I finally figured out he was asking if the shirt would shrink. Then he was asking if the child’s shirt he had selected came in a larger version for women. Of course not. I was pretty worn out by the time they left. Maybe someday I’ll finish those Spanish tapes I purchased years ago. The trick will be finding a tape player on which to listen to them.

Today it has been snowing on and off between times when the sun comes in and out.

One last thing: If rain creates rainbows, can snow create snowbows?

Towed to Denver

This being the last day of a short month, a short entry should be in order.

Tamara and I left Ouray on Tuesday, February 25, to attend the Denver Gift Show. Things were going well until we reached Fairplay, which is a small town 80 miles southwest of Denver. As we slowed down to the city limit speed, I felt a pop in the rear of the truck and a grinding noise. Thinking it was a blown tire, I pulled over to the side of the road to check it out. As I toured around the Expedition, all tires seemed fully inflated. A check under the check did not reveal where the noise had come from. I got back in the truck, started driving, and did not notice any more noise, and decided to continue driving toward Denver. About 3 miles on the other side of Fairplay, the noise came back with a vengeance and increased volume. Fairplay was not playing fair. Deciding that things were not going well, I turned around and headed back to Fairplay, where a small garage still had activity visible inside, even though the sign said CLOSED. The three workers agreed to look at the truck, and after one of them took off the lug nuts to the right rear wheel after burning his hands on the hot hub, he surmised it was a break failure and possibly even a broken right rear axle. Luckily, the garage was a AAA tow service with a flat bed truck, and we ended up being towed the rest of the way to Denver. That is a heck of a way to save gas.

The truck was towed to a Ford dealer in Denver, but by now it was nearly 7:30pm and the service department was closed, as were any nearby rental car agencies. We called a friend of ours in Denver who we had known in Southern California. He came to the Ford dealer to pick us up, took us to Denver International Airport to rent a car, and we headed back to our other friend’s condo who had been gracious enough to let us stay there, even though she was out of town on business. So our plan to arrive in Denver at around 6:00pm and have a leisurely evening was replaced by a hectic evening and arriving at 11:30pm and going straight to bed.

I’ll probably write more later, but for now as February nears its end, so ends this tale.

One last thing: Can money be held for ransom?

The White Gold of Telluride

After living 4 years in Colorado, I finally went skiing in Telluride yesterday. The last time I had gone skiing was in Winter Park, Colorado 10 years ago as was mentioned in the previous post. The weather was great as we loaded the ski gear in Expedition at 9am and headed out of Ouray, but not before stopping to load up some orders to be delivered to Rocky Mountain Scenics (RMS) customers in Telluride. Thus, the entire day would be a business trip since the plan included taking pictures of the town and the slopes.

I had put on my old ski bibs that were probably about 15 years old. They also had some tears in them at the leg bottoms because I had used them for ice climbing and had caught my crampons on them a few times. It made them look like that down jacket of the physical therapist mentioned in the previous post. I pushed the stuffing back in and wondered if the Telluride chic on the slopes would notice.

The first stop was at the ski rental shop. I got some 160 carved skis, and some front buckle ski boots. That was the first time in a long time I wore front buckle boots as all my previous boots had been the state-of-the-art-at-the-time rear-entry types and my last skis had been straight edge 210s. Some new goggles were also in order since the last pair that had been stored in my boot bag had deteriorated. The boot rental place also does business with RMS, so after I had the ski gear fitted and paid for the goggles, I asked how much for the ski rentals. The owner, Eric, said, “Comp,” I said, “Sweet” and Tamara and I headed to the slopes. Tamara is fortunate enough to have bought her gear before the financial crisis.

By the time we parked the truck at Mountain Village (a community up the slopes from Telluride), put on our boots, and skied to the bottom of the lifts to purchase our lift tickets, it was noon thirty. We asked the ticket seller when the half-day price kicked in. She responded, “Noon.” Sweeter! Since Tamara and I knew we were good for only a half day of skiing, anyway, this fit in with our plan and our budget.

Having made it to the bottom of the hill with little incident, I was getting my ski legs back – just like riding a bicycle. On the advice of Eric, we road a lift high up the hill and took a long, easy green run down the groomed ego snow. The next time we went up even higher and took a 4-mile green/blue run back to the same starting point. By now we were getting a bit bored with the easy stuff, but first a break for some food and a beer.

After sharing a chicken sandwich and each having a New Belgium Fat Tire, we headed for new terrain and adventure. On the way up on the chair lift, I finally spotted some more steep runs and some with bumps. Once off the chair lift, I directed Tamara towards the blue run with the bumps. She has never been thrilled by bumps, but we headed down. I had been carrying my camera in a small backpack all day, and halfway down the first bump run I took a spill. Tamara found me falling to be amusing. No spills, no thrills! By the time I reached the bottom of the bumps I was feeling my confidence build. Tamara slowly made her way down. She likes long straights and speed.

Once we reached the bottom again, we took the same chair up. This time Tamara opted for the groomed run as I headed back to the bumps. I was able to navigate the bumps non-stop and non-spill but lots of thrills, and Tamara and I ended up back at the chair lift at the same time. By this time we had gotten our fill of the first day of skiing, and jumped on the gondola to get back to the parking structure. We both agreed it was a great first day and had to return to do it again soon.

I turned in my skis and gear and Eric asked how it went with the carved skis. I responded, “They made me feel 10 years younger, but I know tomorrow I will feel 10 years older!” The pain was already setting into the bones and of the muscles used in the day’s activities.

We went to the RMS customers and delivered the orders and took additional orders. By the time we left Telluride it was nearly 7pm. We had intended to stop at the new brewery in Ridgway, but when we reached Ridgway it was getting late. The brewery does not serve food and our stomachs were growling, so we headed to a nice restaurant, Drakes, and had a wonderful dinner. We got some of the staff into trouble because we talked to them too much, or should I say they talked to us too much. We enjoy talking to people and getting to know them.

Thus ended our day, and it was good.

On another note, for some reason when I buy Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and take it home, I always store it in the same place – second shelf to the left side of the refrigerator. And, I always make sure the labels are turned out toward me. Maybe in a past life I was a product placement director for movies, or maybe I’m very anal. And another thing, why is there no “d” in refrigerator, but there is one in the fridge?

It Makes Me Miss the Dentists’ Chair

This is the second day in a row that Tamara and I have not had to go into work at the stores. It feels kinda strange. We haven’t had two days off in a row and just stayed home in a long time. We may head to Telluride on Thursday or Friday. We have some customers to visit and I hope to get in some skiing for the first time in nearly 10 years and also take some pictures for some new postcards and the 2010 calendar. The last time I went skiing was in Winter Park, Colorado. The parabolic/curved skies had just come out. I told Tamara that the following ski season I would rent some parabolic demo skis and see what they are all about. I haven’t skied since, mainly due to time and financial constraints. Maybe I’ll just take my old K2 210s and use them just to freak out the freakazoids in Telluride.

Geez, I just joined Facebook. What the hell is that all about. I guess it’s a good way to find people from the past and keep up to date with others in “the book.” If you have a page, shoot me an invite. Or not.

I went to a physical therapist (pt) this morning for some tendonitis in my left elbow. This was my second visit to her. Last Friday was my first visit and I arrived at 9am and the pt had not yet made an appearance. When she did arrive, she was wearing an old thermal jacket that was adorned with duct tape to keep the stuffing from flying out. Tamara recommended the pt because she uses LASER to treat the problem. I had no sooner laid down on the examining table when she starts telling me she does not tolerate authority, her views of the current political climate, and other subjects I really didn’t make the appointment to be objected to. Maybe this was her technique for diverting my attention away from what she was doing to my elbow. After the 10-minute treatment I made another appointment for this morning. I advised Tamara that I was not overly thrilled with the pt, but I would return for another visit. This morning she was there when I arrived and directed me to a different room than what was used at the previous visit. This time before I even had time to lie down she started talking about the snowstorm we were supposed to have last night that did not develop and how she wished she could move back to New York but the economy currently prevents her from doing so. She then started talking about her horse who had symptoms of tendonitis and that there was no one in this area competent enough to treat her horse – “They are morons.” O-Kaaaayyyyy. While she worked on my elbow she started talking about Telluride and the skiers there and how rude they were, but the snowboarders are ok (this is a woman at least 60 years on this earth). She then started ranting about the people in Telluride having too much money. For her, probably anyone who doesn’t have to duct tape their clothing has too much money. The treatment was finally over, and as I pined for the relaxing time I have spent in dentists’ chairs, I headed to the lobby. She didn’t come out to set me up for a next appointment, so I left and will probably never return to her for the rest of my treatment. I wonder how much it would cost to send her back to New York? Maybe she could ride her lame horse.

Have you ever watched politicians, entertainers, etc when they are addressing a crowd or on stage for an award or presentation and wondered who they are pointing to in the crowd and why? Are the people in the crowd major donors/supporters, friends, family, or are they exposing themselves?

Thai-ing one On

Here it is, Presidents’ Day, so we survived the Valentine weekend. There was no snow this weekend and it helped in getting visitors into town and into the stores. All the hotels were booked this weekend. Tamara and I worked the two stores on Saturday (and Tuesday through Sunday), as we normally do each week this time of year. After closing at 5pm on Saturday we went to a wedding of another business owner in town, Michael, who also moved here from California shortly before we did nearly four years ago. He is a photographer who bought a building which used to house a local bar, The Portal, and turned it into a photography studio and retail store that sells items from Southeast Asia. Michael likes Southeast Asia and the women from there. The woman he married on Saturday is from Thailand. I guess you could say Michael finally Thai-ed the knot.

After closing the store on Friday, another friend of mine, Bob, who owns Switzerland of America Jeep Rentals, and I went to O’Brien’s Pub for a couple of beers. Bob is the husband of Brandy, who was mentioned earlier as being our teammate in the spelling bee. Bob and I sat at the bar and tried not to end up spilling beers. We had the Stone Brewery Pale Ale. Stone Brewery is in our former state of California, so we are familiar with its beers, such as Arrogant Bastard. Tamara and I even went to a beer tasting dinner years ago at one of our favorite brew pubs in Long Beach, Belmont Brewing Company, that featured a selection of Stone Brewery beers. Yummy dinner, yummier beers! Anyway, Bob and I had a couple of twenty ouncers. It was some kickass beer and the alcohol content was a bit high. High alcohol content and high altitudes here in the San Juan Mountains make for some quick highs. I tell people that drinking beer at this altitude has saved me a lot of money since I don’t have to drink as much to get a good buzz. Another good thing about living here in this one-mile square town of Ouray is that we walk almost everywhere. That eliminates the drinking and driving combination. Of course, drinking and then walking home to our house on Oak Street can be a challenge – both because of the altitude and the uphill climb of Oak Street. It tends to sober one up just a bit.

Friday the 13th

Oh, boy! Friday the 13th -- just another great day in paradise. We ended up getting just over an inch of snow last night – just like a little powdered sugar on a donut. No shoveling required, but I did scrape the sidewalk in front of our stores on Main Street just so the sun could hit it and melt it off. It was supposed to snow today, but the sun has made an appearance all day through some high, hazy clouds. Someone in Silverton told me a few weeks ago that the only people who try to predict the weather in the San Juan Mountains of Southwestern Colorado are people new to the area and fools! Living here in the natural amphitheater we have learned to watch the weather radars and such, but until the weather gets here we never know what we’ll get – kinda like that Valentines Day box of chocolates.

There was a mention as part of a story arc in Doonesbury this week about the Telluride Film Festival. I actually made a post to the comments section on Thursday and mentioned that some people actually come to Ouray to escape Telluride. If you ever get a chance to visit the two locations I believe you will realize why quite a few tourists think along those lines.

Well, this is a triple-header weekend – Friday the 13th, Valentines Day, and Presidents’ Day. We are hoping for a good weekend business-wise, but just as we don’t try to predict the weather here, we don’t try to predict the customer traffic either until it actually happens. I’ll let you know.

Shovelling Snow

Yesterday brought the sun back to the canyon in which Ouray is nestled. Of course, a sunny day after a snowy day means shoveling the snow that fell! I was out at it at 7:30am so I could be finished before going in to open up Mountain Fever at its scheduled opening time of 11am. Since we have 2 decks on the north side of the house, I usually start on the lower deck and push as much of the snow over the side as possible. Just like a golfer has a favorite club to be used in certain situations, I have a choice of 4 different shovel styles from which to choose. I prefer the wide shovel with a long handle that has an angle on it to where I can stand up straight and push most of the snow to the desired location. It’s kind of like a show shovel on a stick. So I push all the snow off the lower deck and then head up to the upper deck via our metal staircase we had installed that is anchored into a huge boulder sitting on the boundary of our property. On the upper deck I shove the snow towards the edge and then give it a final push through the guard rail, hopefully with enough force to that it shoots over the lower deck which juts out about 5 feet more than the upper deck. Once finished with the upper deck, I go back down to the lower deck and push off any snow that I was unable to shoot out to the back yard. Back yard – that’s a laugh. Our lot is one of the smallest in town and is taken up by the house, except for the 5 feet setback in all directions from the property line.

Once the lower deck is re-shoveled, I head back up to the upper deck and climb up to the north face of the roof that covers the one floor of the split level. I shovel the snow over to the south side where it will be scraped off later with a snow rake. We shovel the snow off the roof, especially the north side, to avoid ice dams. If that is not done, the damn ice can build up as a ridge on the roof and push ice back up under the shingle. Once under the shingles it can encounter the warmer temperatures emanating from the house. If the temperatures are warm enough to melt the ice, it then finds its way down the interior support beams and becomes a drip inside the house – usually through one of the can lights in the kitchen ceiling.

So, we shovel the back part of the roof so the sun can hit it and start melting the snow not picked up by the shoveling. This time of year the sun is getting high enough tat it melts off pretty quickly. I then go to the garage and get the snow rake. This is kind of like a big squeegee but made of metal. It has a 5-foot handle on it and I have three 5-foot extensions I can add to it as needed. I reach up and extend the rake as high as I can and drag the snow towards me. It falls off the roof and onto the driveway. This is continued for the length of the roof and extensions are added as I move down the driveway since the downgrade of the driveway moves me further from the apex of the roof. As soon as the snow is scraped and if the sun is out, the remaining snow immediately starts to melt with the help of the heat radiating from the shingles.

Then comes the fun part – shoveling the driveway. Some of the snow tossed from the north roof and scraped off the south roof piles up in the driveway, so not only do I get to shovel what nature deposited in the driveway, but whatever came from the roof!

This time it took about 2 1/5 hours to do all the shoveling by myself. Normally Tamara assists me and it goes quicker, but this time she opted to stay in the warm bed. It was a good workout after having the most of January off from any shoveling due to lack of snow. It appears February might make up for the deficit.

Spelling Bee

Well, even though it continued to snow throughout the day, the spelling bee went on as scheduled. Tamara and I headed over to the local school auditorium just in time to be there for the start time of 6:30. We made a stop along the way to stop at our stores to pick up some props for the event to be worn by our team – “Beer Goggles” (which are sunglasses with the eyepieces in the shape of beer mugs), beer mugs with bicycle bells attached to them (the bells are to “Ring for another Round) and can become quite obnoxious if over used, and T-Shirts with a beer theme on them. The beer props were to emphasize our team name of O’Brien’s BEErs.

When we arrived, our third team member, Brandy (Brady and Beer?), was waiting for us. We changed into our Beer regalia just as the MC for the evening was instructing everyone to take their seats so the Bee could get under way. The competition was divided into four rounds, with each round having four or five teams per round. As the rules mentioned in the previous blog entry outlined, the teams were able to consult with each other for up to 30 seconds to come up with the believed correct spelling. O’Brien’s Beer team was on the program to be in the second round – thank Gawd! At least we got to observe the first round to allow us to get a feel for the ground rules. The teams were allowed 2 misspellings before being eliminated. The first round of 5 teams were fairly good spellers, and the round went for about 45 minutes. We thought if each round went as long we would be there until midnight.

Finally the first round concluded and O’Brien’s BEErs took the position of the third team on the stage. I immediately started ringing the bell on my beer mug and acting the fool as I often do in front of a crowd. This is a carry over from when Tamara and I are involved with the Hash House Harriers (This group will be explained in a future blog). I was chastised for my behavior by Tamara because we were in the school auditorium and there were a few students in the audience. Being this was an adult event, my thoughts were that I could act like an adult – no matter how immature! Anyway, the contest commenced and it was quite fun. To our relief we were the second team eliminated and the round was soon over in a matter of about 15 minutes. We took our seats in the audience, but about half way through the third round we had seen enough and felt we had lived up to our commitment. So at the end of the third round as the new teams were taking the stage we made a hasty retreat to the back of the auditorium to make our escape through the back door.

Once outside it was evident that the wet snow that had been falling earlier had now frozen into a slick crust on the sidewalks and streets. We had to force open the doors of the Ford Expedition as the earlier melted snow has frozen in the doors’ seams. I was able to get inside one of the doors and force the others open from the inside. Ah, life in the mountains. We slowly made our way home in 4-wheel drive, but not before making a visit to the local Ouray Liquor Store and picking up a couple of six packs of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, our beer of choice since forever. We made it back home, opened up a couple of Sierras and toasted to each other for making it through the evening’s events and vowing to take a pass if asked to participate at the 3rd Annual Spelling Bee in 2010. Maybe we’ll just make a donation to the cause. It’s less time consuming, I thought to myself as I consumed the cold Sierra Nevada.