Up is Down

Hello and welcome to An Altitude Problem, where up is down and black is white. I don't exactly know what that means, the up/down/black/white thing, but I have heard it several times recently. But it kinda makes sense- nothing is as it seems, nothing is as we expect it to be.

A few flashes of life for you, and then I am off to bed. Fall is still here, with beautiful days that any day will be replaced by rain, snow, wind. The aspens are turning slowly this year. It has been colorful for three weeks already.

I decided today I have spent too much time in my local bike shop, harassing the mechanics. Every time they see me, they ask what I have broken. And today, over yet another wheel truing, the manager slipped an application on the workbench in front of me, telling me that since I already live there, and seem somewhat knowledgeable about gear, both snow and bike, and they need a "fun, friendly personality" around there, I may as well get paid for being there and be a part-time sales person. I haven't decided yet about that. Or rather, B has not yet decided. I have never worked in retail, but it couldn't hurt to have a little experience, and, as the manager pointed out, it would be a good way for me to get my foot in the door in the back next summer- he'd let me hang out and bug the mechanics and learn by osmosis in the slow times, and maybe-just-maybe we'd see if that led to anything. If nothing else, it might lead to their mechanics getting more work done for paying customers, since they rarely charge me for my "quick" fixes and the small random parts I need such as spoke nipples or valve cores or brake fluid or tire sealant, brushing off my reaching for my wallet with a "You've spent money here before, and you will again. Go ride." If I could learn to do my own wrenching, it might be beneficial for everyone. He didn't say that last bit, but I can only assume. As much as they like me, they are, after all, a for-profit organization.

I got out my snowboard this morning to see if I needed to get a base grind on it while the shops are running early-season specials, and practically paralyzed Andy. As soon as I carried it into the room, buckles clacking against each other, he turned into a quivering pile of yellow fur and tried to climb into B's lap, his ears back and his tail between his legs. It caused us a bit of puzzlement, since my snowboard has never been a source of fear for him, until I remembered the incident on closing day last year, when I loaded my snowboard into the back of my car since the ski/board rack had already been replaced with bike rack, put Andy in the back, and took off. I opened the back window for him, since it was a warm day, and as I slowed for the first stop sign all of my cargo- boxes of light bulbs, extra linens wrapped in plastic, etc, shifted and the snowboard crashed down, nipping Andy's ankles. In less time than it took for me to turn around to see what had happened, he had launched out of the half-open window of the still-moving car. I slammed on the brakes, stopped and comforted him, rearranged all my cargo, and convinced him to get in again, and this time we made A-basin without incident. I had forgotten about it, but not Andy. Poor boy. He has been traumatized a lot lately. He has been so barky we finally got to our wit's end and bought him a bark collar. It only took one zap. He hasn't worn it since, and hasn't needed to. One WOO-WOO-WOO-arrr-arrr-arrr! took the wind right out of his sails and turned him into a mama's boy for two days.

We spent Thursday in Denver, put snow tires on my car and took my bike down for it's one month birthday tune-up (a month late), although it really did not feel as though it needed it. They adjusted the cables, took apart the brake housing and oiled it and somehow, magically, got it to stop one pad from it's slight rub on the front brake rotor, and trued the wheels, since they were custom built in the bike shop and spokes had loosened in the hundreds of miles it has been ridden since I bought it. We did a bit of winter shopping and ended up back in Golden, by the bike shop, wondering around town and falling in love, as we do every time we hang out there. If I had my choice, I think I would choose to live in Golden. It is close to Denver, has a charming downtown with brick facades and yoga studios (even hot yoga!) and bike shops on every corner and a river through the middle of it, crawling with kayakers surfing the rocks below pavilions with live bands and patio bars, dominated on one side by the School of Mines and on the other by the Coors brewery. Small brick houses with shady front yards line steep, leafy streets and just outside town, mountain parks and hillsides cris-crossed with singletrack lie in wait, begging to be ridden. Bike season is long there, March through November, skiing is only an hour away, Denver with all it's employment is a ten minute drive, Boulder is close, with it's outdoorsey trust fund culture and outdoor events. Unicycles and townie cruisers and carbon fiber fully rigid single speed mountain bikes and high end road bikes all share the bike racks along main street while their owners hang out in bars and restaurants, sporting attire from business to spandex, kids and skateboards are everywhere, as are big dogs with wagging tails and slobbery smiles. We hated to leave. It would be a good place for B and I to compromise my love of historic, sundrenched mountain towns and the crazy, diverse people who live in them with his uncompromising criteria of needing to be close to a Home Depot.

Kari is bringing my mom up tonight for her third chemo infusion tomorrow, and we are leaving for a few days in Utah tomorrow morning. Momm and Kari will hang out and have girltime while we are gone. So far, the chemo has not generated horrible side effects, nothing she can't live with. After monday, we will have three down, nine to go on the every-week infusions, after which we will switch to twelve weeks of every three week infusions.

And now, it's time to clean my house. Next post will be in a week or so, with a report of trails through big red rocks and camping in the desert.