I realized I was in a dangerous situation when I heard the early risers of Colorado and Peru quietly tip toeing around me on the floor. I’m not sure how long I laid there trying to figure out how to let them know I was up, without sitting bolt upright like a revived corpse and scaring the hell out of everyone.
Uncle Roy made waffles. I enjoyed them much more than the waffles I make at home partially because they were Belgian, but mostly because I didn't have to make them. Breakfast cooked by someone else always tastes better.
After the airport shenanigans, we were all way too tired for extensive hiking on this day, and Rosa and Anabelle were way too tired to go with Titi to her Pachanga class.
I’m way too gringo to ever go to Pachanga class.
I’m way too gringo to ever go to Pachanga class.
Uncle Roy went out to the gym as well, leaving us there to unpack, set up our basement abode, and rest. They came back in time to share sandwiches for lunch and brought what may be the moistest cake ever created, topped with white chocolate cream cheese. It wasn’t a cake or icing flavor I’m usually fond of and it was really good. Anabelle raved about it too, overcoming her personal issues with the word moist.
Then the three of us went to the Freaky Big Walmart to check for action figures outside of the armpit of the collection universe that New Jersey is…
I mean to stock up on the "us specific" vacation food and beverage supplies (snack bars, Diet Mountain Dew, green tea) we needed for our stay. Yes, that is what I meant.
Our first trip to the pool began this vacation’s tradition. Anabelle would go in the regular pool, sometimes with me, and then join Rosa in the hot tub. I’d sit on the edge with just my feet up to my knees in (especially after long hikes) and Anabelle would demand I ask them Disney World trivia questions.
Because every vacation should be at least partially Disney.
A communication gap led to dinner. On our last visits, 3 Margaritas became our favorite Mexican restaurant in the universe. Titi Luzma told us they had a quality drop under new management, and she and Uncle Roy had found a better one in the strip mall that used to be a coal mining area across the street. Because, Colorado. (This applies to the good Mexican food and the coal mine.)
Our statement of, “We think we’d like to try it again anyway at some point,” somehow morphed into “we should all go as soon as possible.”
We did all go together for dinner. Service speed would have indicated they traveled to Mexico for the food, but the quality indicated they may have gone to Canada instead. I thought my face burningly spicy shrimp were tasty, but the far below Colorado standards for awesome Mexican food meant we all planned not to go back.
As a shining beginning to how most of our plans would go on this trip, Anabelle realized that she forgot her Wonder Woman hat there as we started to go for a walk around a nearby lake.
The first of many walks around it was initiated with our reintroduction to the spooky tree that marks the path between the housing complex and the lake road. Our first exposure on this go around to the magnificent skies and sunsets indigenous to the Denver area did not disappoint. Carrot the Bunny and friends returned to greet us. There were also coyote prints in the dry mud, but the rest of the wildlife experiences were avian.
Magpies perched on the cattails once more, and Ducks swam in the lake while a heron flew in. There was another type of waterfowl that looked like a Pelican but clearly couldn’t be so far in the mountainous inland areas we were…
It was a white Pelican, who usually hang out for the summer in the parks and lakes of the Denver area as they migrate toward California and Mexico.
How about that?
The animals we most easily recognized were the gnats, who followed all of us in giant festering swarms. Conversations were marked by extreme hand gestures making it appear we were sending semaphore messages to Venus.
On our return, a call to 3 Margaritas revealed they had Anabelle’s baseball cap, and the two of us set out on a quest to retrieve it. While the GPS interface was identical to home, there was an issue of a large dead spot in the parking lot. I eventually learned to program in the day’s destination while still under the Wi-Fi of the house, and then driving in what I hoped was the right direction until it kicked on.
Getting the hat was easy, coming home, less so. In what was to be a regular occurrence Siri got a bit confused. I was in a lane waiting to leave the parking lot when the light changed. Suddenly headlights were coming toward us. The exit to the lot was far wider than Colorado traffic needed and the labeling was unclear about entry and exit lanes. The GPS sent us to the wrong one. It was a quiet drive home punctuated by gasp filled breathing.
Our normal east coast time zone, as well as our normal east coast life pace meant we were normally the last ones to go to sleep. We had Guy Fieri in the background for a bit of normalcy (which gives you an idea how skewed our idea of “normal” is regardless of how much I over use it) while Anabelle told Rosa of our unnerving encounter.
Anabelle dreamed about a party, that wasn't a party. And I dreamed about driving a Camaro/Batmobile over the lake to watch an Elephant ride a bicycle.
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