We have a home!  I am sure you’re all aware that this has been a difficult slog of rootlessness for me.  But, after a bit of deliberation, and a LOT of work, Rick and I decided to make his old bachelor pad into OUR home in Denver.  

I think it was hard for him to re-envision the home he’s owned for seven years and lived in with all of his friends as OUR place.  But, I am honestly thrilled he came around to this idea.  The house is huge, beautiful and historic, within walking distance of downtown Denver where I’ll be working, within walking distance of a grocery store and a park, there’s a dog friendly brewery down the road, we have other friends in the neighborhood, it has a fenced yard for Adelaide, and we can walk a couple minutes to the light rail.  In many ways this is our ideal place.  It has hardwood floors, exposed brick, a huge back patio, and a fireplace.  The chances of us finding all these things in a new house or a rental were slim – and with a little time and a lot of energy the house has begun to look like ours.  Rick’s mom helped us a LOT by painting almost the entire inside of the house, we just got new carpeting, and now that we have unpacked our furniture, and (finally) opened up our wedding presents the place is beginning to feel like home.

I am so beyond thrilled to be back in Denver, but also to be settling into a home with Rick that we know will be ours for some time.  As I sit writing this in our bedroom I’m awash in sunlight from the afternoon sun, which warms up the room and casts a pinkish light across the cherrywood floors and brick walls.  I am looking at the cherry tree outside our window and counting the days until it blooms in a delicate pink like it did when we were first dating in his city, four years ago.  I am so in love with life right now.  🙂

Off to a bachelorette party weekend in Breckenridge – another perk of living here!

 

 

My feet slid a bit as I tried to climb over the ice-covered snowdrift and into the dog park. I looked up and chatted with a man passing by. “This is getting treacherous!” I laughed.  He pointed to the microspikes on his boots, indicating they were the way to go – I knew I should have worn mine too.  They are the only sure way not to end up flat on your back on an icy footpath these days. Snow is melting and freezing. The winter has reached a certain tipping point – you can feel it in the air.  I know it’s daring to say this, but though the polar vortex (#3) is upon us again, I can feel spring in my bones  The tell-tale indicators are here.

1) Birds chirping.  I heard them.  They were out in the afternoon as I returned from a run yesterday.  They felt it too!

2) Distinctive changes in snow consistency.  It’s getting hoary.  Ice is sublimating.  The snow is crunchy and crystalized.  This is good.  This means it’s getting warmer – at least for a portion of the day.

3) The light is changing.  We have reached a tipping point.  The days are BRIGHT again – not the muted gray of midwinter.

People, it’s ending.  I haven’t had a real winter in a couple of years.  I haven’t even experienced most of this one since I spent a month in Colombia.  But, even in the short time I have been here, this winter has been a rough one.  There has been little break from frigidly cold temperatures.  Thus, you’re either outside freezing you a$$ off, or you’re inside having hot, dry air pumped at you from the heating vents.  It makes me crazy.  I never realized how hard this was growing up here.  It just was.  It was reality of life in Wisconsin. We suffer.  We do.  It’s not fun to be cold.  And it drives people batty by the end of the winter.  And I love the cold, and boots and hats.  I love scarves.  I love winter activities.  I have always been a lover of winter.  But, I’m ready for warmth.

Everywhere I go, people chat with you about the cold. That, or their upcoming trip to somewhere warm.  I haven’t heard this much about Sanibel since I was a child whose Grandma spent 6 weeks there every winter.  People are done with winter here.  Done.

Today at yoga my teacher lulled us all into relaxation describing being on a raft or a surfboard, floating in a warm sea, with warm breezes on us.  I had a physically painful pang in my heart for life in Australia where this reality existed, and where I was more often than not, sitting out on a surfboard in the warm water, with warm breezes blowing on me – unconcerned with layers, and footwear, and hats.  “Why did we leave!?” I thought. I remember then, that I had professed to miss the winter.  And I did.

And now here I am, missing Australia.  You’d think I was impossible to satisfy with this rambling, but in reality I’m so content.  I know the winter is long and dreary and cold, but I like being here and suffering with my people.  I like the shocking cold of opening the door to let the dog out. I like having to gingerly walk across terrifyingly slippery ice on the sidewalks when I’m out running.  It toughens us.  It makes us jollier and heartier than those who don’t fight this yearly battle with the elements.  It encourages us to share a warm beverage, a sidelong glance, or a frozen conversation with a stranger at a stoplight.  We are all in this fight together.  And we’re in the homestretch.

For me, this week has started out quietly, but beginning tomorrow things get hectic.  Appointments, interviews, travel, and lots of selling myself to people.  I am eager to get back to work.  I love work.  I love having a purpose and a schedule and coworkers. I love projects and goals. I always thought I’d love to work from home or go out on my own, but the reality is that I love the structure and community of a workplace and I miss it badly.  I know there are still several things to wrap up and arrange in life – houses to fix up and sell, boxes to pack and then unpack.  I know Rick and I are still well within the timeframe we have given ourselves to transition to a new life – with him back in school and me taking on a new role. We have some adjusting to do.  As our schedule fills up for the year ahead with weddings and travel weekends, baby births, showers, and all kinds of activity, I am savoring these moments of quiet at home.  Spring is almost here.  The world is waking back up from a long winter.  My life feels like it is beginning to accelerate and soon it will be busy again.

I am holding my tea with both hands, blowing off the steam, and savoring life’s slowness and solitude right now.  The end of winter brings a certain energy, best absorbed through quiet mediation, dog snuggles in the morning, and warm blankets by the fire in the evening.  I am doing all of these now, knowing this moment is short and soon the pace of life will pick up with the winds of spring.

I packed up my husband and new puppy into a U-haul truck yesterday, along with all of our worldly belongings.  They are now on their way to Denver, to become settled for the foreseeable future in Rick’s house as we prepare to sell it.  I am left at my parent’s, tying up some loose ends and house-sitting/dog-sitting.  It’s been a long time since I had this kind of freedom, and I like it,

It’s amazing that dog-sitting in my parent’s house feels like freedom and autonomy.  I guess that just goes to show how hectic life has been over the last few months.  And though I miss my budding little family (MAN do I miss my puppy – and Rick too!),  I’m sitting at home alone in front of a giant old brick fireplace, tucked under a wool blanket, reading, catching up on emails, quilting (yes, I said quilting), and generally taking ME time.  This is bliss.  I’m cooking my own food, getting in runs and yoga, sleeping well, and relaxing.  I have consumed at least 6 cups of tea today.  I went shopping.  I listened to Van Morrison really loud and danced with my dog.  I took care of long-delayed things.  I slathered my face with coconut oil.  I took a looong shower.

Since getting a puppy and being on 24/7 puppy duty without Rick’s help for a few days, I’ve begun to grasp the all-encompassing nature of what it might be like to have children.  I recognize the difference, of course.  I do.  But, if a small dog can whittle away so much of my personal time, how can one function and make space for their mental health while raising children? Yikes.

So, there you have it.  I am entirely relishing being home right now, sitting on a couch with a book, tea, and a snuggly dog.  I have my suspicions that life might not give me all that many more opportunities to do this going forward.  I’m soaking in every last second.

I’m smitten.

For weeks, Rick has been utterly obsessed with the idea of getting a puppy.  And, though I love dogs, I was pushing back on the issue because I thought we should wait until we have a bit more stability in our lives before adding a little ball of chaos.  Maybe I was a bit scarred by our loss of little Elsa last year.  I don’t know exactly what it was but I had the brakes on, HARD.

Typical of Rick, he kept up his pursuit without my support, incessantly raking the internet for nearby puppies  and coming back at me with new puppies and new rescue dogs almost daily.  I was going along with it, but nothing really piqued my interest until yesterday.  We wanted a rescue in many ways, but I really wanted a puppy too.  I also am extremely partial to Australian Shepherds and Heelers, but we were finding a lot of lab mutts in the rescues.  We just weren’t hitting our stride on the issue – then suddenly we found a small rescue that had 8 week old Australian Shepherd/Heeler mixes – and it was just 30 minutes from my parent’s house!

After a crazy weekend with Valentine’s Day, selling my baby (my first Subaru!) on my birthday on Saturday, and my whole family in town for an engagement party for my sister, Max, on Sunday, by Sunday evening Rick and I were ready to take some time to ourselves and look at some little puppies.

We went to the Muttley Crew rescue and met the whole litter of pups from a pregnant heeler who was rescued from an abusive situation just a day before she gave birth.  The puppies were all sweet and playful, but one seemed to latch onto us – Garnet, so named for her eyeshadow-like spot over her eye.

It didn’t take long for us to decide she was the one for us.  She was energetic, friendly, and eager to play.  After some paperwork, a little microchip shot, and a trip to the hardware store for a crate and other dog gear, she was on her way home with us!

I fell for her faster than I ever would have expected – as Rick drove, I zipped her into my puffy jacket for warmth and she nuzzled into my armpit and quickly fell asleep.  It slayed me. I have been nuzzling my face into her soft puppy fur all day,taking in the distinctive smell of puppy.  Rick too, is over the moon.  Last night as we put her in her crate he gave her a pep talk about how proud he was of her on her big day.  I fell so in love – again – with both of them.  We decided to call her Adelaide – a tribute to Australia and an adorable name.  Little Addy – my baby! 

 

I will try not to obsess too much about her going forward, but hell, this blog is about love, right?

 

 

We’ve found a bit of time to reflect today, mostly because Rick is suffering a bit of flu or something like it.  It’s hard for me to watch him be sick, in part because he never is.  I know if he is complaining that he’s sick, it’s to be taken seriously.  

Perhaps his illness came as a result of our weekend, which I have to say was awesome.  After our spanish classes ended around noon on Friday, we put our suitcases in storage at our hostel and with the bare minimum, boarded a bus for Santa Marta.  The town, about four hours away by bus, felt a bit further.  That was mostly due to our being wedged into a Marsol shuttle with very little air conditioning and constant mariachi-esque music.  I don’t mind the music, but it makes Rick crazy.  What bothers me, however, is when I can barely fit my short little legs into a seat.  How can people taller than my 5’4″ (e.g. most men and many women) fit into these seats with any semblance of comfort if I can’t fit?  There must be some sort of legal recourse for this…

Santa Marta

We arrived in Santa Marta in the early evening.  The sun had just set, and though nobody in the bus seemed sure where the ride would end, we got off at the second stop which we understood to be the city center.  We were right, but certainly not sure of ourselves until we checked a map.  We wandered to our hostel, La Hostal de Jackie, and checked in. It was a pretty nice place with a cool rooftop bar, though our room left something to be desired.  After a brief review of the recommended options in the guidebook, we made our way to the Plaza de Novios, which was hopping on a Friday night.  The square was surrounded by popular cafes with tables and patrons spilling out into the streets.  We chose Ouzo, one of the cafes the guidebook recommended and proceeded to eat what has so far been our best meal in Colombia.  This is an important distinction since almost every meal has been fabulous.  After dinner we walked down to check out the beach, but the waterfront was mostly industrial with only a few places for people to swim.  We did a similar walk through the city after breakfast in the morning, but I was itching to get to Tanganga so on we went.  

Taganga

Taganga is clearly a must-do on the Gringo Trail.  The small town is full of young tourists, and it seemed to me that our hostel, La Masia Summer Hostel, was sort of the epicenter of that crowd.  We checked in just before noon and had the pleasure of watching many a hungover-looking 20-something emerge slowly from his or her room, heading to either the hostel cafe or a local restaurant to replenish himself from a big previous night.  It was pretty comical.  As we waited to check in an Aussie guy and his Irish travel-mate, whom he referred to as simply “Irish” made their way in.  Neither could find their passports, and one didn’t have the slightest idea what day it was.  I almost felt bad for them, but that didn’t stop me from giggling a bit at their antics.

But, tourists aside, Taganga is a picaresque fishing town, nestled in a blue bay surrounded by steep mountains that are much more arid than I anticipated.   The drive into the town is spectacular and reminiscent of some areas of Spain, from my recollection.  There is excellent food (I highly recommend Pachamama!) and the prices are good too.  We enjoyed cruising around the beach, having a drink and a meal along the water, and then we took a dip in the hostel’s pool where we could see the sunset over the Caribbean.  Not bad.

On Sunday we took a snorkeling trip to the Tayrona National Park.  It was a bit bittersweet for me – I was happy to be out on the water and soaking up the sun, but wish we’d been doing SCUBA.  Rick, however, is much happier when he is not wearing a weight belt and a mask in the water, and that’s fair.  So, snorkeling was a good compromise.  We hopped on a small boat which was taking some divers out, and spent the morning snorkeling at two neat spots in protected bays of the park.  Though it wasn’t quite like the SCUBA I did in Bali, or my dives on the Great Barrier Reef, I really enjoyed the corals and the diversity of smaller fish and sea life that we found in Tayrona.  The water was colder than I had anticipated, and I enjoyed that.  It was refreshing, clear, and the sea felt more active.    We stopped for lunch in a little bay with a small beach, then made our way back to Taganga.  

The day on the water was good for Rick and me.  We were happy to get sun on our faces and wind in our hair.  I think there is nothing more invigorating than being out on the water. Rick laughs at me, but I could stay in the water all day just gazing at fish.  I love it!

So, that was Taganga in a nutshell.  

We’re back in Cartagena and back in our spanish classes.  I really love this city – it deserves an entry of its own.  But that will have to come when my sick husband isn’t looking at me with puppy dog eyes begging me to come to bed.  Buenas noches!