New Toys
Technology hasn’t been my friend this week. The day after we arrived in Denver, I turned on my computer, and while the computer went on, the display stayed black. I tried a few things that the internet recommended, to no avail. So I trudged down to our neighborhood computer store and they took a look at it. They determined that it would cost a good $300 to fix it. Since I had already once had it repaired for the same reason, I decided to throw in the towel and buy a new computer. They were happy to oblige. How do you use your computer? Do you do a lot of photo editing? Do you run a lot of complicated programs? Of course, the answer to those questions was that I write my blog on my laptop, I do my banking and pay my bills, I check my email, and….well, actually, that’s about it. So I went with an inexpensive and smaller laptop. And in the when-it-rains-it-pours department, my cell phone — a rickety iPhone 7 — started losing battery power fast. I could literally watch it go down. So yesterday afternoon, Magnolia and I went an bought a new iPhone SE. Oh, I looked at the iPhone 12, but simply couldn’t do it. There was a $400 difference in price. How do you use your phone? Do you take a lot of fancy photos? Do you run a lot of complicated programs? The answer to those questions once again was no. I text. I answer a few phone calls. I FaceTime. I take snapshots. I google things on occasion. The SE will do me fine.

Hot and Spicy
I’ve mentioned before that there is a difference between Arizona Mexican food and Colorado Mexican food. Colorado’s food is more in the New Mexican style with lots of spicy green chili. They don’t smother food with chili in Arizona. I like the Arizona style, but I will admit that I prefer Colorado’s burritos over Arizona’s. So last night when we had dinner with some of our kids and grands, we went to our neighborhood Mexican restaurant where I enjoyed the burrito smothered in green chili immensely.

Blizzard
Because I pride myself on telling the truth (well, unless there is a need for literary license), I must tell you that I had some pushback after I said the snowstorm the other day didn’t drift like a typical blizzard. Au contraire, I was told. There was plenty of snow drifts as you moved west towards the mountains. A friend who lives perhaps 10 miles west of here showed me photos of plenty of drifts, including one that hung off their roof like a sinister ghost.

Roll Up the Sleeves
As Bill and I sat and drank our morning coffee yesterday, we started talking about how much STUFF needs to be removed from this house. Should Bill and I get hit by a bus, our kids would be horrified by our basement alone. And the garage? Glory be. We vowed that when we come back here in May, we will begin the process of getting rid of stuff. I suggested we invoke the help of our grands by telling them they can take any of our castoffs (and there will be many) and sell them on E-Bay, keeping the money for themselves. Someone would literally be able to make hundreds of dollars. Bill and I’ve been promising a clean-up for years; this year WE MEAN IT!

Ciao.

Six or seven years ago, our son Court had an opportunity to move to the Phoenix area within the company he worked. He brought his family to Mesa that January to check out the area and see if it was something he thought would be good for all of them.

The idea of having them move out of Colorado was sad for me, but if they were going to move, Phoenix would not be too awful. After all, we had a house there and spent four months there out of the year. But I had a word of caution for him. “Remember, Son, it’s lovely weather right now, but in June or July or August the temperatures are in the three-digit category, and often 110 or more. Can you live with that?” He thought for a few moments, and then explained to me that 110 degrees is, indeed, very hot. “But Mom,” he said. “No matter how hot it is, you can still drive anywhere and do anything. The problem with snow is that it can make the roads dangerous and prevent you from doing something you perhaps had planned.”

I understood perfectly. I am not a fan of cold and snowy weather. So it is quite ironic that the week that Bill and I decide to leave 80-degree weather in Arizona to come to Colorado, we are welcomed by 20-degree weather and an historic March snowstorm. Karma stinks.

But my husband isn’t one to let a challenge get the better of him. Yesterday, after letting the sun do its duty for a few hours in the morning, he addressed the pile of snow that was preventing my yellow bug from getting into the street. By that time, the city had sent a snowplow down our street, making a one-lane passage, and it was already melting. So it was just a matter of moving the snow (that was now mostly ice) that provided a barrier between our driveway and our street.

He once again put on his Nanook of the North clothes and headed outside with a couple of different versions of snow shovels. For the next hour, I heard chink chink chink as he battled the ice. He finally came in and said that he thought I could get my car out into the world. I looked out and was amazed to see that not only could I get my car out of the driveway, but the driveway was completely cleared.

Instead of his Nanook of the North clothes, he should have been wearing Superman clothes. Of course, Superman only wears a shirt, underwear, tights, and a cape, and wouldn’t have been nearly as warm. But you feel my sentiment. MY HUSBAND ROCKS.

As a result, we were able to meet friends of ours for Happy Hour at a nearby restaurant. I will also be able to run some errands today, including (perhaps) buying a new cell phone. Sigh. When one piece of technology breaks, others follow. It’s Murphy’s Technologically-Inclined Brother’s Law.

Yesterday morning when I arose at 6:45 a.m., I tentatively looked out the window to see what was happening, weather-wise. When I had gotten into bed to read at 9 o’clock the night before, it was still snowing like the dickens. Remember when I said it was going to be no more than a foot-and-a-half? And remember when I explained that I didn’t go out the previous night and get my degree in meteorology? Well, that last sentence was quite apparent, because we got more snow than that. What fooled me is that it really wasn’t a blizzard, at least not in our southeast Denver neighborhood. I define blizzard as lots of BLOWING snow. The snow really never blew into giant drifts. It just fell flat onto the earth. For a long time.

When I tentatively looked out the window, I was delighted to see the snow had stopped sometime during the night. The sun was just beginning to come up, and the fallen snow was glistening like it was a sea of diamonds. The temperature was in the 20s, and the sun was going to shine…..

As an act of kindness to my grands (and to show myself that I still had it in me), I had a couple of cups of coffee, and headed upstairs to change into warm clothes. I was going to shovel. By that time, Bill had gotten up and poured a cup of coffee for himself. “I’ll be right behind you,” he promised.

The thing about spring snowstorms is that they are very wet and very heavy. The good news, however, is that Addie and Alastair had shoveled mid-storm on Sunday. Bill had gone out a bit later in the day and “pushed around some snow.” That’s how he puts it so that I don’t nag him about SHOVELING snow. I don’t fall for it, however, as I have been married to the man for nearly 29 years. My husband was shoveling snow. But I’m pleased to say he didn’t keel over with a heart attack. And I’m also pleased to say it made my job much easier……

I shoveled our front sidewalk. I shoveled the public sidewalk in front of our house. I took one run down our driveway and decided to take a break. By that time, Bill had appeared dressed like Nanook of the North. (I put a link to Nanook of the North because it was something my mother always said when she encountered someone dressed for cold weather. It occurred to me that I had no idea 1) how to spell it; and 2) what it meant. The link is for your edification. I love my mom, who had a blessed way with words.)

After a couple of hours, our sidewalks were clean and our driveway was clear enough that I could back out my car. The thing is, however, is that I could back it out to the end of the driveway, but no further. I’m afraid we will be stuck at home for a day or two. You might recall that my car is a Volkswagen Beetle. They sit about three inches off the ground. Since we live on a side street, the snowplows won’t come until tomorrow at the earliest. And when they do come, they will simply push piles of snow in front of our driveway. Sigh.

Perhaps I can bake some chocolate chip cookies to entice our grands to return in a day or so and dig out to our street.

I’ll help.

When we caught our Lyft to the Phoenix airport on Tuesday, the driver asked where we were going. We told him we were heading to Denver to visit our kids and grandkids. “Oh wow,” he immediately said. “You’re going to run into a huge blizzard.”

A few days before, our daughter-in-law had warned me that there was a “weather event” expected, and the news was suggesting snowfall somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 inches of snow. Last time we had that much snow was in March 2003 when our first grandchild was born. March snowstorms aren’t a unique event, but talk about that much snow catches our attention.

My sister Jen was the one who kept me grounded by explaining that the weather forecasters were really playing it safe. According to the local Denver NBC station, the amount of snow in Denver depended on the route the front took. I saw this meme on Facebook, and it really said it all…..

Immediately after our second Lyft driver dropped us off at our Denver home, I got in my yellow bug and headed off to the grocery store. I stocked up on a few things (of course milk and bread, but other essentials like chocolate ice cream and Cheetos) to get us through the next couple of days. And then I went back home and waited for the imminent snowstorm.

And waited. And waited.

Thursday, forecasters said the snowstorm would hit on Friday morning. I talked to my son and we changed our plans to have a sleepover Friday night with his kids. If a blizzard hit, the kids could end up staying at Nana’s house for a couple of days. NONE of us wanted that.

By Friday afternoon, it was clear that there was no snow coming that night. It was expected Saturday afternoon. So the sleepover was back on for Friday night. We began receiving texts from out-of-state family and friends wishing us good luck on the blizzard.

Sometime around noon on Saturday, flakes began to fall from the sky. Here it comes, we all thought. I got the kids into my bug and we headed off to their house before the roads got dangerous. By time I arrived back home, the snow was finished. I began nibbling on the groceries which I had bought for our blizzard days.

I awoke early on Sunday morning (DST always messes up my sleeping no matter whether we’re springing ahead or falling back), and there wasn’t a flake in the air. I cooked up the sausages I had purchased to get us through the blizzard shut-in and scrambled some eggs.

About 8 o’clock yesterday morning, the predictions finally came true. The snow began to fall. It was immediately clear that this wasn’t a false alarm like Saturday. This was the real McCoy…..

I’m writing this blog post on Sunday afternoon around 4 o’clock (that would be 3 o’clock in AZ), and while it’s still snowing — and snowing hard — I don’t think it’s going to reach anywhere in the neighborhood of 60 inches. I predict a foot-and-a-half of snow when all is said and done. But I didn’t go out and get my meteorologist degree last night.

The good news was around 11 o’clock yesterday morning, I heard the sounds of shoveling out on our driveway. Sure enough, there were Adelaide and Alastair, shoveling our driveway and sidewalks. They came in for hot chocolate afterwards, and promised a return visit once the snow stopped.

And as an aside, when the two came into our house, Alastair admitted that he had no shirt on underneath his coat. He had to borrow a shirt from his Papa in order to drink his hot chocolate. Oh, to be a 15-year-old boy again. All that testosterone to keep you warm.

While Bill and I enjoyed our flight Tuesday, apparently my computer did not. It is currently out of order, but Nana’s Whimsies will return in a day or two once I once again have a computer.

Airplane

Yesterday was our travel day. We flew from Phoenix to Denver without a hitch. Well, there was that one point as we neared Denver that the pilot turned the plane so sharply that Bill and I thought he was making one of those so-called Phoenix Flips U-turns. We landed safely, we had two very nice and very safe Lyft drivers, had our mandatory Bloody Mary before boarding the airplane, and arrived to no snow. The plane was quite full, but everyone wore a mask. I sprayed down our seats with enough Lysol to kill a small dog. Thankfully there wasn’t a small dog nearby.

Christmas in March

If you recall, when we left for AZ, we intended it to be a short visit and return to Denver before Christmas. So I left our house completely decorated for the holidays. When we ended up staying, I had our various and sundry kids/grandkids unChristmas us as much as necessary. So they took down our outdoor lights. They moved the Christmas tree out of the window and switched out the timer from the tree to the lamp. So I’m spending today taking down Christmas decorations. I’d forgotten that I also left food in our fridge that would still be good in a few weeks. But not nearly four months. That was a rather unpleasant surprise. I didn’t know cheese could be that green!

Oh, the Weather

The weather service is telling us we might get as much as 60 inches of snow this weekend. They’re hedging their bets a bit because if the front moves a little one direction it could do nothing. As soon as I got home yesterday, I went to the grocery store to buy some food. The grocery shelves were sad-looking already. Still, I have food to get us through a few days if the weather hits. I recall March 19, 2003, when Adelaide Grace was born during an enormous blizzard…..

Picnic Anyone?

I know I’m a dork, but while I have no interest in awards shows, I love to see the dresses worn by the women. I was astounded that this dress was on every best-dressed list for the Golden Globes. I don’t even know the name of the actress, but her dress reminds me of those screen covers you put over potato salad to keep out the flies…..

Ciao!

Bill and I left this morning in a Lyft that took us to Sky Harbor Airport. We will fly to Denver, arriving early this afternoon. We will spend the next 10 days enjoying our Denver family. We will return to AZ on March 20, where we will enjoy another month of sunshine before we head home for the summer.

I’m told to expect a “Major Winter Event” while in Denver. My daughter-in-law suggested I make the best of it by eating chili and drink hot totties, both which aren’t practical when it’s in the 90s. I will first have to look up how to make a hot tottie. The chili I have NAILED.

I hope to continue blogging while in Denver, but it’s quite possible I might miss a day or two.

Hasta la vista for a few days!

My Facebook feed these days is loaded with excited Baby Boomers who are receiving their vaccinations. I got my first vaccination! I’m scheduled for my second in three weeks! I’m fully vaccinated and can finally travel again!

I’m with all of them. I’m fully vaccinated as of a week ago. Give me a few more days, and I’m ready to live a more normal life again. Oh, don’t worry. I will continue to wear my mask and socially distance. I will do so if for no other reason than to be a good example.

As far as I know, the CDC doesn’t know for sure yet whether those of us who are vaccinated can still carry the virus and give it to others like a bad birthday present. The media keeps telling us that the health organization will come out with its guidelines soon. I don’t know what soon means, but I hope that soon means really soon.

Here in the Valley of the Sun, where Winter Visitors abound, many people have decided they don’t need no stinking CDC guidelines. They have put their masks away until the next worldwide pandemic. As Bill and I were out and about this weekend, it became uncomfortably clear to me that there were many more people going maskless, and it didn’t make me very happy. Unlike them, I really do want to see what the CDC has to say about how to live my life safely — both for me and others.

Right now, the CDC apparently speculates that when fully vaccinated people go maskless, we can gather the COVID-19 virus in our nasal cavities and unintentionally give it to others who are not vaccinated. Well, yuck. Just yuck. Here’s the thing, however, though it feels like COVID has been a part of our life for at least 150 years, the truth is that it hasn’t even been a full year since we were all sent to our rooms to think about what we did. The CDC, scientists, doctors, sociologists, psychologists — the whole world — have been learning as we go. You will recall that at the beginning of this whole pandemic, we were told that masks were bad, bad, bad. We were told that, until they realized that masks were good, good, good. I remember hearing that we should all stop using Ibuprofen because the virus LOVES Advil. (Wait. That might have been the Tylenol folks spreading that information, and not the CDC.)

My point is that I believe everyone did — and is doing — the best we can. As information has become clear, we have changed our habits. After all was said and done, I think what we’ve been left with is basic: wear masks and wash your hands. I can do both.

But the unadulterated joy that we are feeling as more and more of us are receiving the vaccine is palpable. People are smiling. Businesses are little by little getting back to normal. I, too, will be happy if and when I no longer have to dig my mask out of my purse every time I enter a building. But I’m not sure I will ever put my mask away for good. I can see me always wearing a mask on an airplane, for example.

But maybe that’s because I have spent a lot of money on masks that match my clothes.

P.S. Shortly after writing this post yesterday, the CDC released their guidelines.

A lot of things happen to a person as they age. Your skin starts getting slack. Your natural color of hair starts vanishing as the gray starts taking over. And that is if you aren’t losing what hair you have. The lines around your eyes stop being cute laugh lines and start being cruel and unforgiving wrinkles that don’t just show up when you smile. Your bones become brittle and your muscles become stiff about the same time that you start losing your balance, making getting out of bed in the middle of the night an Olympic challenge.

I think, however, most Baby Boomers would agree that one thing they all take an issue with is being called an endearment by a stranger. You know what I mean. That grocery store cashier who says, “Hon, that will be $42.73.” Or the restaurant server who asks you, “Sweetie, can I get you another cup of coffee?” as she begins to pour even before you have a chance to answer.

The Me Too Movement brought to light the issue of men harassing women, usually women in less powerful positions than the harassers. And then the movement died out because everyone became focused on a worldwide pandemic that all-told, has killed more than three times the population of North Dakota. How can I worry about harassment when I can’t find any toilet paper?

I’m not saying Baby Boomers should have ignored the life-threatening danger of the COVID-19 virus. And I’m in no way comparing sexual harassment of women to an Ace Hardware employee saying, “Let me show you where we keep the hammers, Dearie.”

But what I am saying is STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW.

When I was young and my skin didn’t sag and I could wear makeup without my 7-year-old niece being shocked to see that I had eyelashes, I never — not ever — called an older person by an endearment like honey or sweetie or doll or dear. Because if I had, and if my mother had overheard, I’m certain that she would given me a little talking to. She’s not here for me to ask, but my mother spoke her mind when necessary, and she would have thought a total stranger calling her dearie deserved a comeuppance.

Our country has bigger issues, like how will I spend the next $1,200 check the government is going to send me and how pissed are our grandkids going to be when they figure out how much debt we Baby Boomers have left them. But when my brother tells me that the sales clerk at the cigar/liquor store at which he frequently shops calls him Dear, I know there is a problem. There is no one in the world who looks less like “Dear” than my brother. He lifts weights every day and he wears t-shirts without sleeves. He looks like he could kick someone’s ass if he put his senior citizen mind to it. And yet even he has to put up with the sheer disrespect of being called Dear.

Seniors, when we are all vaccinated and can gather together (masked and socially distanced) let’s take our case to the streets.

Meatless Fridays during Lent are not a sacrifice for me, but they are for Bill. We made the best of it yesterday afternoon by taking a drive to Saguaro Lake, and the scenery was spectacular. Our destination was the Shiprock Restaurant, which sits on the hill overlooking the lake. We enjoyed their Friday fish fry with a side of boats on the water and seagulls looking on as we sat on the restaurant patio. Even the really bad singer who provided entertainment couldn’t spoil our good moods, though it came close when he took a stab at Billy Jean.

“Aren’t we lucky live in two such beautiful states?” I said to Bill.

Have a great weekend.