Back From Colorado

Joe and Marilyn

The day I left for Colorado, it was just starting to get nice in Mn. It was going to get to 70 that day, but I left in the morning and never saw it. When I reached Co., it was in the 30's and a blizzard was building. We made it to a German restaurant that evening, but then we were snowed in for two days! I think this is one of those "Be careful what you ask for" things, because I had been worried we would do more sightseeing than talking. 

The beginning of the blizzard.

I had no idea how exhausting talking could be. We talked, and talked, and talked. We had 45 years of catching up to do. I'm surprised we didn't lose our voices. Joe and I have a lot in common. Music, writing, art, politics and an opinionated big mouth. Marilyn kept commenting on how much we sounded like each other. It really makes you think about genetics. 

My mother always said, "You're so different." And I was. She and my sister were so alike that I used to tell people they were twins. Now I understand where most of my genes came from, and I understand why she said the word "different" like it was a dirty word. I reminded her of him.

Joe and Fred in the living room. Fred's on the couch.

Joe and Marilyn went out of they're way to make sure I was comfortable and had everything I could possibly want. I had my choice of bedrooms, they supplied me with toiletries, (all vanilla scented, my favorite) fed me constantly and didn't let me spend a cent when we did finally get out of the house.

My favorite lion.

They had a lion collection you wouldn't believe. I wish I had taken more pictures of the house and the collections (there's a clock collection that is just as amazing) but I kept getting distracted by the talking. We were so exhausted by the talking that I could barely function the day I left.

One of the clocks, and not the best one by far.

My brain is still mush today and I have a lot of work to catch up on. Tonight I go see Phylicia Rashad to blog about her tomorrow in the Bolder Women blog. 

Fred.

I do love a spoiled dog. What a cutie. He couldn't get enough petting. Of course, no dog is as spoiled as Joco, who is very glad I'm home. 

Oh, and when I left Colorado, it was going to make it to 70. I reach Minnesota... and it's 40.