Colorado.....where the wind comes sweep....er....nevermind

Okay, so I was going to write a series of entries, one for each day we spent in Colorado, but, you see, my time is running short.  So here's the quick and dirty.

Danny and Christi; Adventures in Colorado.

Day 1:

Drive to Denver.  I have a bit of a cold, so I buy some Vick's Vapor rub at a gas station and slather it on my neck and chest.

We spend the night in Denver (which is a rockin' town - if you didn't already know).  I become paranoid when I read a notice next to our hotel door that says: For your safety, please bolt and latch your door.   And then I was tempted to sleep with a knife under my pillow.  But that seemed kind of dangerous.

Day 2:

Wake up with rash all over my neck and chest.  Strong work, Dr. Bartlett.  Got a little carried away with the Vicks.  Glad I didn't put it on my face.  Continue driving to Redstone.  Stop for lunch in Carbondale.  Eat the most delicious burger ever.  Go to the pharmacy and pick up some steroid cream....because steroids fix everything.  Except TB.  And they can make your testicles small, but that's not really a concern of mine.

Check into The Avalanche Ranch.  Sit on porch, take in view of mountains, drink hard cider.

Day 3:

Wake up to a mild, yet strange odor.  Reconcile that it is merely my feet.  Forget about said odor.
Go for a hike on a desolate, isolated, abandoned, unpopulated trail.  Become paranoid that we will be eaten by a bear.  Especially after seeing this:

Clearly the paw print of a very large, mean, people-eating bear.

And then this.....

Most likely left over from a bear attack.  Probably human, but I have no way to confirm this.

Do you see the crazed "I'm-convinced-a-bear-is-going-to-eat-me" look in my eyes?

Look closely, it's there!

Luckily my psychosis didn't keep me from enjoying the scenery.

Because I like to plan ahead, I made Danny rehearse what we would do in the case of a bear encounter.  It went something like this:

Me:  What if we see a bear?

Danny:  I don't know (clearly not concerned).

Me:  No, really!

Danny:  I don't know.

Me:  Well, I've heard that if you stand really still, they can't see you.

Danny:  I'm pretty sure that's the T-Rex in Jurassic Park.  Doesn't work on bears.  

Me:  Blast! 

~ THE END ~

So, I guess we really didn't have a plan.

Returned to cabin.  Again noted smell.  Continued to assume it was my feet, socks, shoes or some combination of the three.  

Day 4:

Drove to Aspen.  Very upscale and kind of snobby.  A bit like the plaza, but in the mountains.

Danny buys Northface jacket.  I get nothing but annoyed and resentful.  

Spend more time in Carbondale.  Attend local rodeo.  Resolve to move to a ranch and spend my time wearing Wranglers and barrel racing.  Will make a cowboy out of Danny.

See?  He clearly loves this. 

Imagine Weezy having field parties on our land.  Imagine the debauchery this entails.  Resolve to stay in the suburbs and send her to the strictest of private Christian schools.  

Day 5:

Smell is worse.  Danny believes that while my feet are generally rancid, this smell is a bit more carcass-y.  We alert ranch staff and they relocate us to a new cabin.

Go horseback riding with Cowboy Randy and his staff of ranch hands through the mountains.  

Danny does an exceptional job for a beginner.  I nearly drop my mom's camera and fall off my horse as we go galloping through a field.  Poor job for a seasoned equestrian city girl who used to have horses. 

Luckily I didn't drop the camera and managed to get some cool pics.

Of course I asked Cowboy Randy about the bears.  He assured me that in the 5 years he'd owned Avalanche Outfitters, he'd only been charged by a bear 4 times.  And really, it's the mountain lions that are dangerous.  

Thanks for putting my mind at ease, Cowboy Randy!  Now, do you have any xanax?

At least the cowboys had their pistols and hunting knives handy. 

Finished horseback ride and hopped off my horse like I was John Wayne.  Landed on noodle legs and prayed to God that I wouldn't fall over.  Clutched horse's neck until I could use my legs again. Couldn't sit comfortably on my tush for the next several days.   

Day 6:

Missed our girl way too much.  Got up early and headed out of Dodge....or toward Dodge?  Heck, where is Dodge?  

Made good time.  Made fun of Danny and his issues with Cruise Control.  If I get a chance, I'll address this annoying quirk of his in a new post.  But.........

If you don't hear from me in the next 3 years, it's because I'm starting residency this week.  If I have any extra time in my schedule it will be used for sleeping, eating and bathing.  Hopefully I can maintain the blog on a somewhat regular basis (because I'm sure I'll have lots to blog about and I know that you depend on me), but I'm not promising nuttin'.  

And here are some more pics from our trip.....

On our way through Kansas, saw hundreds of these weirdo things.  I'm sure they're good for energy and what-not, but they're kind of creepy.

Cookies waiting for us in our cabin when we checked in.

I could be really obvious and tell you that this is the kitchen, but I won't.

I spent a good amount of time in that tub.

Danny prefers a shower to a bath.  He claims that a bath is nothing more than sitting in your own dirt.  I don't know who asked him to open his pie hole and spout out his opinion. 

My dream house will have a clawfoot tub.

Our first cabin.  The carcass-y one.

Danny in the Morning with Coffee - by Ansel Adams Christi Bartlett

My little hummingbird friend.

Dandelion path

Does anybody know what these are?

Does anybody know where I left my keys?

Obligatory blurry water shot, thankyouverymuch.

No bears here....

I like to eat a balanced diet - here I'm drinking my fruit group.

My fruit group makes me act silly.

Danny laughs at me when I'm silly.

I laugh at Danny when he wears tennis shoes to ride a horse.  Even though my boots were totally Steve Madden.  Not exactly intended for s#%t kicking.

It just does not get much better than this.

Avalanche Ranch Path

Look at me, I'm artsy. Or a tool....take your pick.

If I could drive any vehicle in the world, it would be this truck.  We parked next to this bad boy in Paxico, KS.  Did I just say "bad boy" on my blog?  How embarrassing for me.

Love

More Paxico

And some bathtubs...

And now......

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.....................

                                                                                ..........The sound of me falling off the face of the earth.

Further into Domesticity

Today I did something that I have never done before.  I.  Made.  Pie. 

We had lunch with some friends this afternoon and I had offered to bring dessert.  I was going to make old faithful - chocolate chip cookies, then I considered strawberry shortcake (thanks for the suggestion Humble Hostess!).  And then, for reasons yet to be understood, I decided to make mulberry pie.

What is a mulberry, you ask?

Why, I have no idea, I say.

Alls I know is that we have two giant mulberry trees in our yard that leave a purple mess on our driveway every spring.  And the birds love the berries....I've seen the purple poop!  Ha Ha....purple poop!  [Insert favorite K-State joke here.] 

So I decided to use the resources in our front yard and make a pie.  I put Danny in charge of the picking.  He put me in charge of everything else.  Including the homemade crust.  How we all lived and thrived without Google for so many years is a mystery I ponder daily.   

The following is a how to regarding mulberry pie.....

1.  Move into a house surrounded by mulberry trees.

2.  Find yourself a husband to go out and pick them.  Ideally, he will be tall with a large wing span.  He should also have broad shoulders and a kind heart.  And a nice tush.

3.  Have a baby that can watch out the window as her daddy picks berries.

Then when she sees him.....

4.  I'm sorry, what was I talking about....?

5.  Rinse the mulberries in cool water.  I'm just guessing on this one.  Not part of the actual recipe, but it just sounded like a good idea.

6.  Google "how to make pie crust."  Then fill said pie crust with berries smooshed together with flour and sugar.

7.  If you're feeling especially daring, you can also google "how to make lattice pie crust."  Find instructions with pictures.

8.  Have a big fat Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder moment and make sure your slices of dough are EXACTLY THE SAME WIDTH!!!

9.  Take some xanax.

10.  Feel really good about yourself when you figure out how to lattice.  Say something like, "What's up now!?!?"  or "Who's your daddy?!?!"

11.  Have a melt down when you realize that you messed up one of the strands of lattice work.

12.  Feel better after your husband suggests that you repeat the same mistake on all of your pies as your special "signature."  Kind of like a serial killer.

13.  Bake.

14.  While the pie is in the oven, take pictures of your baby's chubby thighs.  Wish that your chubby thighs were as cute as hers.

15.  Remove from oven.  Take lots of pictures of your pie.  In the event that you never make pie again, you'll have proof that once upon a time....you made pie.

16.  Do like they do in the old folks home and wipe your drool.
 

17.  Repeat step 16.

18.  Slice.  Plop some vanilla ice cream down next to your pie. 

19.  Eat

Girls Weekend, WOO HOO! (alternate title: 7 old hags get out of town for the weekend)

I really want to blog about our trip to Colorado, but I haven't had time to edit my pictures yet, so you'll just have to wait.  One of the reasons I haven't had time to edit pictures is because I had the pleasure of spending a few days at the lake with six of my bestest girl friends!  So you get to hear about that. 

Ready?

Here goes.

Myself, the Socialite, the Supermodel, the Artist/Preacher's Wife, the CRNA, the Coach/Preacher's Wife and the Shopper headed out last Thursday for a weekend of fun and sun to celebrate the year of our 30th birthdays.  And to escape all responsibility.  And husbands.  And children.

We stayed for FREE in a beautiful condo overlooking the lake.  There are perks to being friends with a preacher's wife!  After we rolled into town, we made a quick trip to Wal Mart where we bought the necessities....wine and bacon.  And a few other things, I think.  But none as necessary as wine and bacon.

We got settled into the condo late in the evening and kicked back with some fantastic drinks that the Socialite whipped up.  They weren't as strong as they could have been because the Shopper didn't like vodka.  Blah blah blah...

We slept in a bit on Friday morning, because that's what you do when you don't have a husband and a baby making demands of you.  The sky looked stormy, so we decided to go shopping, because that's what you do when you don't have a husband and baby making demands of you. 

First stop:  the outlet mall.  Ahhhh, outlet stores as far as the eye could see.  I splurged a bit and bought some new shirts for myself.  Danny bought a new Northface jacket in Aspen, so I reckoned that I was entitled to a little money spending of my own.  That and I needed more responsible looking clothes to make my patients believe that I am a competent doctor.  Right?  Right!  Nothing says "trust me, I'm a doctor" like a T-shirt that says "Trust me, I'm a doctor."  Oh, and a closet full of cardigans.  And glasses.  I will be wearing my glasses each and every day, starting July first.   

So we shopped forever at the outlet mall until one of the preacher's wives became a shoplifter.  Then we decided it was time to hit the road.  Before lightning struck her down.  Our next stop was MEGA MARSHALLS.  I could have wandered around that place for all of eternity.  Maybe that's what heaven is like....my heaven anyhow.  Danny would argue that it is the other place.  Anyhow, other than the fact that the store closes at night, I couldn't come up with any good reason to ever leave.  They have clothes, furniture, bedding, towels, food.....and cute little office organizers so when Danny forwards my mail to MEGA MARSHALLS, I will have somewhere to keep it.  Neatly.  Finally the Socialite decided that she'd had enough of MEGA MARSHALLS and demanded that we leave.  The Socialite sorta runs the show.  I generally do what she says.  That's why we've been best friends for so long.  Mutual respect. 

That night we got dressed up, the Supermodel teased our hair, we put on too much eyeliner and went out for mexican food.  We laughed because we couldn't figure out who we were dressing up for, but we went ahead and did it. 

On the way back to the condo we stopped to take ridiculous pictures in front of a miniature golf course with a huge pirate sign.  They didn't turn out very well, but here's one of them.  In the name of modesty and decency and potential legal action, I will refrain from posting a picture of one of the preacher's wives mooning the camera.  I won't say which one it was, but it was the same one who shoplifted earlier in the day. 

This is me and the CRNA.  Respectable health care professionals. 

Then we went back to the condo for some wine and girl talk.  Which turned into cookie-eating and inappropriate picture-drawing.  Again, mostly from the Preacher's Wife. 

The next morning we got up and ate some more bacon.  The following conversation took place during the cleaning up of said bacon:

Shopper:  What should I do with this bacon grease?

CRNA:  My mom always put it in a can.

Shopper:  Lets turn the water on really hot and put it down the drain.

Socialite:  My mom always put it in a can.

CRNA:  Just make sure the water is REALLY hot.

Shopper:  You don't think it will catch on fire, do you?

Socialite:  No.

CRNA:  Well, if you throw a match on it.

 - THE END - 

After the bacon grease was disposed of, we went to the pool to get some sun.  I got fried after about 45 minutes and caught endless slack because I didn't put any sun screen on.  Apparently when you become a doctor, people expect you to start eating vegetables and wearing SPF 50. 

So that was our weekend in a nutshell.  Oh, heck.  I left out the part about the Supermodel and the Goober-burger.  Probably for the best. 

Here are a few pictures:

On the road again....(they made me sit in the back).

Preacher's Wife #1, Socialite, Shopper, CRNA, Supermodel, Me and Preacher's Wife #2 at lunch.

Me with Supermodel and Socialite.  (Re: hat - my ode to Matthew McConaughey)

Ready for our night on the town.  First time my hair had seen a curling iron in years!

Supermodel and Shopper - work it....OWN IT!

Shopper's not-so-graceful enterance into the car.  Preacher's Wife wondering how she ever ended up friends with hooligans like Shopper.  Contemplating existence.  And another glass of wine.

Lake of the Ozarks Barbie

This was the cute little place we had lunch.  The picture was super-cute, except for my heinous appearance.  That's why I'm all scribbled out.