Again, I'm headed for the stop for the bus to work's doorstep. regardless of the fact that I stayed three hours after close last night, my coworker wants me there a half hour early this morning. Her grandson, who she claims still can't read, is graduating from kindergarten. Well, I get to the shopping center an hour early, and I'm hanging out at the bakery. I'm sitting next to a guy with headphones on. They are plugged into a laptop. As he's listening, he's reading a book. A pair of other books are on his table. The title are, Rapturteless and God Wants You to be Rich. The following day is my brother's birthday, wherever he is. I have an appointment with a doctor to do a check-up of my skin. At one point, I have to get naked. What I don't expect is that the doctor, in front of whom I'm naked, is a beautiful blonde with a huge chest. I'm soon out and off to work. I make it home from work during a lull in the rain. Just before I go to bed, it begins raining buckets. In the front is a downpour. In the back, it's hailing. In the morning it's cloudy with the occasional drop or two. For the most part the deluge has passed. The river and creek along the pair of respective trails to work were both headed back toward their drought levels. Some early morning river surfers are out in their wetsuits. The Lord has smiled upon their weather forecast desires. It strikes me as just recently, I was deciding whether or not to get out on the bike considering what kind of snow conditions I would expect to find. I get to work with plenty of time for breakfast at the breakfast place. Among a restaurant full of families, I'm seated to a grey-haired guy and a much younger one with a ponytail from 1988. Both are in buttoned down shirts, discussing the details of family and friends. After work, I get grocery shopping and laundry done. The following morning, I do dishes before getting into my eclectic mix or rain gear. I have time to ride to the gym before lunch with the sister. The knee is bending without feeling as though it's putting any strain on the wound. Being able to workout is a welcome damned change. I don't like missing appointments at the gym. After my workout, I have a chat with someone behind the front desk. Both the rec center and the waterpark are operated my the municipality. She tells me that during days with these long rains, the waterpark has simply been shutting down. It sounds as if my injury has prevented me from swimming much at all. The only thing I've missed perhaps are scenes with angry swimmers showing up to a closed waterpark.
I last saw my coworker on Friday, when she told me that she wanted to work her shift on Monday. I hear nothing else from her. On Sunday evening, I have a date with the lady I'm seeing. I get home at 10 PM, bedtime for work tomorrow. I have a voicemail from my coworker. I can't make out a word she sez, but I'm sure I know what she wants. I'm opening tomorrow, which means getting up at 4 AM. So, next morning, I'm up and out the door. I put in almost a 13-hour day. This will be a week when the customers hit me late, which means I stay late. Late in the afternoon, it pours buckets. It stops when I'm headed home in the evening. I'm coming up on the first underpass on the trail. The trail is flooded with creek water. If I didn't have healing wounds, I would simply march through the water. But I can't step into this water. Unfortunately, I had entered it to see how deep it is. I can't put my injured toe down, and I must attempt to hop with the other foot and push my bike back out of the water. But the mud under the water had sucked my sandal off. I don't see it until it floats up to the surface. I make it out of here and backtrack to the back entrance of a big condo spread. The trail connects to the parking lot. I ride to a closed metal gate. A car pulls up outside, and the driver gets out to activate the gate so she can drive in...and I can ride out. I exit onto a boulevard when a bus happens along, some time after 8 PM. I elect to take it. It's a slow crawl up the boulevard but I'm too tired even to read a book I have with me. We pick up an elderly woman in a wheelchair who complains to her caregiver. We pick up a little guy with long grey hair, dressed head to toe in black. He has a big backpack, fully loaded and slung over his left shoulder. He carries a lamp with a glass base shaped in a dodecahedron. We pick up a young skinny kid. He's in a black trench coat, British cap and wire rimmed prescription glasses. he asks the driver if he may ride for free because all he has is a ten-dollar bill. This is a scam as old as transportation itself. But this kid doesn't smell like a hustler. He's polite, he calls the driver sir. The savvy driver says to him, "You got change here, you got change there, just sit down." The following morning, I awake with plenty of sleep to a cloudless sky. I may not have like the creek water, but I decide to finally hit the waterpark, for a short swim and a single ride down the drop slide before heading off to work. Along the trail there, I pass one of the river surfers' favorite spots. No surfers are out here this morning, but a trio of guys in slack and buttoned-down shirts are observing he river. for some reason. I get there when they open and am able to do some laps before a group of "Adventure Kids" in matching lime T-shirts do their swimming tests. At work, I stay more than 3 1/2hours late. I'm on the way home along the trail by the river. I pass the spot where this morning three office guy were standing with arms crossed. This evening, surfers are out with a pair of lights on a stand p[erched on a rock.
Wednesday. Again I hit the waterpark before work for a brief swim. Along the way there, I feel the cool breeze turn warm. For a few short minutes, I have the pool to myself, under a cloudless sky. I've discontinued bandaging my healing wounds. A couple more school groups are coming behind me. An adult supervisor of one small group is a guy with long permed hair. I may not get another swim until the weekend, or late next week. I'm heading out to my bike after my swim when a kind of PR person recognizes me and says hi. After work, I stop by a supermarket along the way home. I've decided to grab some rice, veggies and ground turkey for lunch and dinner for the next several days. I will try and be in bed by 8 PM for tomorrow, the first of five days working open to close. Before I can hit the hay, I must boil rice and cook the meat. This supermarket is a popular spot for homeless. There's one guy sitting with his back against the wall of the supermarket. There's also a young guy on a bike and on his phone. "Tell him his foot hurts," he says. "Even if he says no, keep telling him." I wonder if the one with the sore foot he refers to is the other guy along the wall. I run in and grab the few items. I'm in line for the U-scan behind a woman who remarks that she can't believe there are no checkers working the registers. I wonder if this shopping center is not long for this world, and both corporate and the homeless know it. A realtor's sign for the center sits on the corner. I follow a guy outside who carries what appears to be a bottle of Gatorade. He hands it to the kid with the bike, now himself sitting with his back against the wall. He asks the guy, "Oh, they didn't have anything carbonated?" I wonder if he stole it? An employee comes outside for his break. He says to the kid against the wall, "Oh, look, you're in my space." The kid replies, "It's nobody's space. It's public space." Just up the street and around the corner from the supermarket, I'm in a working-class neighborhood. A trio of young girls are sitting on the cement ledge of a front porch. The one in the middle tells me, "Good job wearing a helmet." She gives me a thumbs up. I make it home, get the cooking done, and hit the hay. Next morning, I get up and leave the house shortly after 4:40 AM. I'm coming down a long incline toward the block with the open field. Along this street is a newly arrived camper. Down and around the corner, along the open field is a van from the 1970s or 80s. The bottom left side is dented. Out on the river, a lone surfer shoots the short waterfall some time after 5 AM. Had I not had to come in until my usual time, the morning was still a bit chilly, but the sky was clear. I may have done a swim before work. Instead, I do my ten-hour shift and return home, to get to bed and get up to do it all over again. Hey, I'm the one who likes the extra money.
Friday morning. Out the door to work, between 4:30 and 5 AM. These days, dawn cracks about 4:40. Down the long incline, the camper is gone. Around the corner, the van has been replaced by a decades-newer 4-door pickup truck. The two left side windows are gone, and replaced by pieces of cardboard. I'm out on the trail and then onto a connecting one. In a tunnel is someone under a plastic tarp. Next to him on the ground is a bare front bicycle rim, with no tire or tube. Saturday morning. A camper is back along the incline on the way to work. Down and around the corner, the pickup with cardboard instead of windows is still there. I catch a whiff of marijuana as I roll past. Out on the trail along the river, the cut-out figure of a Sasquatch has returned to a pillar under a bridge. A notice is posted on the figure, alerting the public that the 17th of this month is Surfing Day. It's also my brother's birthday. Out on the connecting trail, along the big park below the water park, a middle-aged couple with a pair of small beagles moves onto a side walkway as I come along. I hear the wife mumble something to the husband, who says, "Because he doesn't say anything!" It takes me a few seconds before I realize he may be referring to the fact I didn't "call out my pass." The guy may not have noticed me right away, because he's staring at his phone. Several other dog-walkers notice me immediately. None have their phones out. I'm off the trail, up a steep hill, and onto a short horse trail where a couple says "Hello." At the end of the horse trail, three young girls are up before 8 AM and out on their bikes. I get out of work on time, but as it's below 70 degrees f, it doesn't feel warm enough to swim. I do grocery shopping instead. I hook back up with the trail and reach the trailhead where I exit toward home. Along the trail I pass a conflation of cyclists all on electric bikes. None were pedaling. More than one bike had fat tires. One guy was on an electric bike with tires which had to be a couple of feet wide. They just wanted to come out on the trail to use their batteries. Okay. I'm across the train tracks, around a corner, and at the crest of a steep hill when a minivan turns a corner. The driver, a kid, tells me to slow down. I'm sure he's joking. I follow the van around a corner and watch it stop at the next, a busy avenue. Two kids each exit the driver's and passenger's side and change seats at the corner. (?) They then turn back toward the way they came, effectively making a square. I see this square driving pattern on my neighborhood's residential streets all the time.
Sunday holds a full roster of possibilities. The gym, three outdoor festivals and a potential swim. The high is forecast to be only 66 degrees F, but the morning dawns on a cloudless sky. But after lunch with the sister, I have a library used book sale to attend, which I didn't get to yesterday. Before I left work, I called the library to ensure they were indeed open until 4:30PM. ...and indeed they shortened the sale by a half hour, which ain't gonna work for me after work. The sun rises into a clear sky. This morning I hit the gym first. Where I turn of the trail to get there is a folding table with a trio of middle-aged people, all in folding chairs. As I pass by, they all begin ringing cowbells. This section of trail is hosting a 5K run sponsored by a local brewery. But I still get the cowbells. I do the workout and head for the sister's for lunch. When I exit the gym, the sky has turned overcast. After lunch, I retrace my route back toward the library. Along the way, I pass the waterpark. The temperature is tantalizingly close to swim weather. I have my suit with me. I may stop here on the way home. I honestly don't know where I will find the time for any of the festivals. I must open again tomorrow. at work. I arrive at the book sale around 2 PM and stay for about an hour. The sale is inside the library on the 2nd floor, in a room with no windows. Going to these sales for some years now, I'm still surprised hen I find at least one book every time. I exit the windowless room to the registers. I hear a noise on the roof. I can now see out of the windows. And it's pouring buckets of rain. The kind cashier gives me a plastic garbage bag. It's all I need as I have just about everything else with me inside Ziploc bags, The garbage bag I will put over the big bag with my swimsuit and pair of books and leftovers from lunch. I unlock my bike underneath crashing thunder and lightning. I remember from my frequenting this part of town years ago, a bus stop is just across the street. I even know when it comes. It's the stop listed on the schedule before my own shopping center. I'm headed that way under a sudden deluge of hail. It's only pea-sized, but it makes a racket against my plastic helmet. I wasn't expecting rain. I have a kick ass rain coat and pants. But they're at home. I'm in a windbreaker and thin pants, neither of which are waterproof. The rain and hail has stopped when I reach the bus stop. The bus comes along in no time. I have no doubt that the waterpark is closed down for the rest of the day, as well as all three festivals.
UFOs and the "Big Game"
I work open to close Monday through Wednesday. They are for the most part cold and rainy. I stay at work late enough on Monday to catch the last bus outta this suburb. When I get on board, the guy driving the bus is already having a conversation with a passenger. He's telling her of his passion for television documentaries about UFOs and cattle mutilations. The female passenger considers his enthusiasm "great." She recommends various streaming channels for him to watch. After a pause, he tells her he's "creative. I like to draw and paint. I went to art school. Mostly draw," he says. "But I also paint. I went to art school." So did , I just never ended up driving for the transit system. "I'm working on a big painting now, trying to figure out how to get it finished." I'm deposited at the train station. When a train arrives, I climb aboard a car filled with the familiar standing room only space, filled with young adults. Now, I haven't watch TV in some years, and the smattering of internet headlines I get at work haven't mentioned the city I live in. But there's some kind of game going on this evening. It can't be football or hockey. Baseball? Earlier, a customer came into work and asked me if I was going to watch the "big game." I was busy and neglected to ask her about it. The crowd onboard collective raises a loud cheer three times before we go two stops, where I disembark. I grab a waiting bus back to my boulevard. My bedtime is in less than a half hour. I grab dinner at a Chinese restaurant before I hit the hay. I will find out in a day or two that Denver won its first NCAA basketball championship. The mention of it on the internet will be of nine people shot outside the arena. The following morning, we have arrived roughly in the middle of June. The temperature is 49 degrees F. The next morning will be a degree colder. I elect this morning to ride to the bus to work. When I get to the stop I can see my breath. (It's June, right?) The following morning, I take the same ride to the bus. But I leave the house late enough that I'm doubtful I will make it. No worries. I will have an hour for breakfast at the cafe next to the stop, and catch the next bus to get to work on time. This morning, I get to the stop just as the bus has arrived at the red light.
..."my hope was that mountain towns would focus on...people...willing to work locally and forge their own paths. ...to be happy here, you have to want to be part of the community ...plenty of jobs here support that mindset." ...the jobs posted here are quality career opportunities (rather than seasonal jobs with a lot of turnover)... ...start-ups, corporations, non-profits, and local businesses. ..in many cases, one job is not enough...having a "career" job and a "perk" job...
...self-starters, multi-sport athletes... We feel the need to meet expectations of "life in paradise." ...you could be someone's favorite barista, waiter, cashier... In...the mountain west, there is...potentially toxic, independence woven into the culture. ...isolated communities...lack of housing...a massive wealth gap. "How could you be so sad? You live in Colorado!" Bikes...provide nourishment for...mental, emotional and spiritual health. "When riding, the thought scribbles of our mind start to lineate, and we feel more comfortable talking about our emotions." - covered bridge, summer + fall, 2023
...Denver could use an infusion of energy and redirection if it's going to draw people back to downtown... "...it feels like cultural erosion... We're just losing more and more of the topsoil. The identity of the city is being wiped away. ...what makes a city successful? With the city growing and growing, every neighborhood deserves to have its place of cultural relevance where people can participate. What was happening downtown has spread throughout the entire city." Denver's vitality...right now, it feels like there isn't a captain on the ship. ...the importance of...nightlife economy. ...the hospitality industry...about 50,000 jobs in accommodation and food service in the city in 2022... That's sizable enough...for Denver to have a night mayor...to advise city officials...the city's day-to-day operations and its nighttime culture. "A culture bearer can be a musician...a Mardi Gras Indian...a baby doll...a sous chef...someone running an Airbnb. ...we need to make sure that we're protecting all of those people." ...the 1900 block of Market Street...the heartbeat of the city today. "...we need to treat it as such." "...our neighborhoods and our creative districts..." ...Loaded and Smash Face Brewing... ...improving access to public transportation at night... "...what feels more dangerous, it's traversing...the different parts. ...people would get up to the [pedestrian] Mall and walk to the ballpark, and a lot of people aren't willing to do that." Handsome Boys has a dance club, Disco Pig. ...a night mayor can integrate out-of-state investors more successfully into a city's nightlife. "Arts and culture is the canary in the coal mine of any city. Downtown Denver is now a place where it's borderline illegal to be a teenager." - Westword, 6/15-21/2023
The Nasty Politics of Sunscreen
Saturday, the original forecast was for a thunderstorm. At closing time I leave work under a mostly blue sky. There's a chill in the air but it's 75 degrees F. Can I sneak in a swim before the gym? I make a break for the waterpark. When I arrive, the parking lot is empty. They're closed, per their pattern of not opening according to rain in any original forecast. I'm hungry and shouldn't hit the gym on an empty stomach. I look around the street corner and see nothing but trees and parking lots. Catty corner to the waterpark is a tiny Mexican place I've never noticed before. I stop in for an early dinner. Then I get to the gym with just enough time to finish my workout before they close. Across the street, I elect to grab a train. The one I board goes one stop before a homeless cyclist pushes his bike up the steps. He takes a seat in the "extra space area." I suddenly smell marijuana and see him securing the lid on a jar. Then I'm off the train and home on the bike. The following morning, I'm glad there are no festivals scheduled. My day is crammed full as usual. The sister picks me up in the morning for breakfast and grocery shopping. We take my groceries home and throw my bike into her car, and she drops me at the waterpark. There's no rain. The sun is mostly out. And instead of 66 degrees F. ...it's 86. For the first time this year. Along the way here, we went to a drive through and got lunch. I have a burger and onion rings with me. I know I must eat it before I enter the waterpark. But first I need to apply sunscreen. We're not used to the sun being out this month. My bike is locked up and I'm on the cement under a canvas tarp on a metal pole. Swimmers and filing past me toward the entrance. One young dad has his young daughter with him. I only glance at the woman, who strikes me as older then he. His mom? I hear hm say, "I have a question," before I look up. He asks me if he can have a little of my sunscreen. I want to tell him that this is mineral based, that I'm allergic to chemical based, and this feels as if you're wearing a coat of plastic. And this shit is expensive. Before I can exposit all of this, he continues. "Or are you almost out?" I reply, "Yeah." The lady has a pizza box with her. They make their way toward the entrance when I hear him say, "Looks like a full bottle to me, bro." When the get to a table where staff checks bags, I hear him say, "We just bought it." Dopes he mean his city basketball team sleeveless jersey? Another father and young daughter go past. The daughter asks her dad if he remembered sunscreen. I'm like a living television commercial. Or am I in a sitcom?
On that note, I realize that I didn't bring something with me, which I thought I did. At home, I apply sunscreen to my back with the backside of a wooden backscratcher. I can't find the backscratcher. I turn my head to spot my PR friend, who appears to wear multiple hats around here. I approach her to ask if she could see her way clear to putting sunscreen on my back. She can, but she needs a couple of minutes to track down some ice cream for a birthday party inside. During these two minutes, I decide to eat my burger. In the process, I spot something on a cement barrier next to the table where bags are being checked. It's the pizza box the lady had. It appears dented. This is what the young dad was referring to by he "just bought it." I wonder if they ate it before going inside, or if it's here waiting for them to come out. Some life that family has. My friend returns and does my back. She remarks on the tendency of this mineral base not to spread without some effort. She also tells me about the merch she orders for the gift shop. She's promoting the waterpark Christmas ornaments. Thanks to her, I get my swim in. I have plenty of time afterward, and noting pressing I need to get done. At least as far as I know. I've noticed for a little while now that my weekend bike has needed new brake pads. I ride to the train which takes me downtown, and soon I'm at the sporting goods supercenter. A tech there tells me he can have new brake pads on in 25 minutes. It actually takes longer, but he does some extra stuff. Long story short, he mentions to me that he properly secured my seat post, which has a quick release. I notice that he somehow tightened my back rack, which I have rigged onto the post. Once I'm headed out toward my pizza place for dinner, I hear something rubbing against the frame somewhere. I soon realize that he must have had to remove the rear wheel to reach the brakes. He didn't secure the wheel tight enough and it slipped out of true, all the way against the frame. This happens with this bike, I'm just surprised he caught everything else but this. I hit the pizza place. I'm sitting there kind of worn out from the day. It isn't in the 40s or 50s F with rain today. The high is 91 and the sun has decided to stay out. When I get home, I don't bother to check my messages. I trust what my coworker told me last Friday, that she wants to go back to working Mondays. You know, I never learn. She calls me at 10 PM to ask me if I got her voicemail on my land line. She wants me to work for her tomorrow. Sure. Six hours of sleep? No problem.
Tuesday. I grab dinner after work, next door to work, and catch the bus to a train. I ride home from the station, which means crossing a highway through an intersection. I'm at the crosswalk where I can see a homeless cyclist blocking the entrance to the sidewalk at the opposite side of the highway. Pedestrians and cyclists want to cross with traffic as soon as possible, before the oncoming traffic turns directly into you and onto this side of the one way highway. I think I can sneak past this guy and a bush. I can't and come to an abrupt stop, startling him. He was engrossed in securing his collapsible shopping cart to his handlebars. You know, the usual everyday stuff. He speaks up and says, "Oh, hey, you should have asked me to move, fuck, oh, hey..." Boy, this week. Temps in the 80s F., thunderstorms, and ample foliage which I am still unaccustomed to. I didn't make it to the waterpark yesterday, and there was a chill in the air into late morning. As well as overcast skies. Which of course burned off as soon as I got to work. I do make it there Wednesday. On the trail there, I come up behind a guy running and his two small boys alongside him on push bikes. A trop of oncoming cyclists arrive and the dad yells at his little kids. "Pick a side (upon which to move over)!" The lead cyclist tells him, "It's all good." The dad remarks to his kids, "I've about had it with you guys." They appear to be too young yet to have themselves had it with their dad running in his blue tank top trying to look athletic. The following afternoon at work, we have a gale force wind blow through with rain and hail. A customer comes in to tell me there was a nearby tornado which appears to have touched down. And again I stay just late enough to catch the bus home. The bus makes a detour for an apparent fire along the regular route. A passenger uses his phone to direct the driver through the detour. This stretch of the metro area can be a pastural maze if you don't know the literal lay of the land. So, wind, rain, hail, tornado, and fire. Sounds Biblical.
I arrive at work on Thursday. My coworker requested that I come in an hour early today and tomorrow, as she has appointments. Her car is parked outside with a flat tire, which her husband can't come down to fix today. So she can't make her appointment today. 'Can I work for her tomorrow?' she wants to know. The following morning, here's a voicemail on my land line. I hope she hasn't changed her mind now that I'm up at 4 AM. On her message she mentions that she had to go into the hospital and may need her appendix out. 'Can I work for her Monday?' she asks. Out on the trail to work, I haven't seen the river this full in many months. It looks like a river again. The first underpass along the trail is even flooded. The underpasses along this first trail to work are never flooded. Another underpass, this one along the connecting trail next to a creek, is once again piled with deposited sand. After my 10-hour shift at work, I detour to a supermarket on the way home. Even here at my usual source for items I can't get at my regular supermarket, I'm hard pressed to find them anymore. My bike is locked up at a stop sign next to the entrance. When I come out of the store, some guy is asleep between my bike and the entrance. I'm unlocking my bike as he wakes up. He sits up and asks me for a cigarette. When I tell him I don't smoke, he mumbles something. The following morning at work, my coworker's husband comes down to change the flat. He comes in to say that if she doesn't need her appendix out, it may be her kidneys, or it may be cancer. My coworker comes down later in the day to pick up her car. She has trouble walking and tells me she has an infection somewhere. She appears to have some pain on the left side of her waist. She says it may be her ovaries. A specialist awaits her, somewhere with an appointment. After work, I have a date with my lady. She sent me a message on Facebook, asking if I had a gift for the wedding. I forgot all about it. She takes charge, taking us to TJ Maxx. I pick out gifts which she will then find gift bags for somewhere else. She's the one driving us to the wedding. I promised to buy her dinner. She says she wants a place where we can sit and talk for hours, because this is what we end up doing. I take us to Chilis, where despite my jet lag from going back and forth between opening and working my regular shifts, I have a great time with her. She mentions her son is having a birthday on the 4th. I ask if I can join them and she agrees. He's the one who will map out a route to the wedding, which is a week from today.
Sunday the schedule is nuts. But somehow I get it all done. Breakfast with the sister. We're back to our routine of her picking me up. Then a handful of chores around her home. Then a carwash, and a cashier who speaks Spanish. Then to my place with groceries, my bike in the car, and we're off to the gym where she drops me off. I barely remembered to grab my swimsuit. It's new, and I think I bought it a size too big. After a workout, I ride to the waterpark for a swim. I remembered to pack the stick with which I can reach my back with sunscreen. I applied it at the gym in jig time. After stops and starts at swimming among the kids in the pool, and some drops down the drop slide into the deep end, I'm off to the Pride Fest downtown. The constraints on my time have resulted in my simply bringing my gym bag with me to downtown festivals. It's a hella hot late afternoon. On the early mornings when I'm opening, I still wear long pants and a windbreaker. This afternoon must be in the 90s F. I hit my pizza place along the way At the Fest are the usual bare breasts, plenty of booths with dog products. There were a couple of cute girls. One twentysomething had this hippie thing going on. And then, after doing a circle of the Fest, I unlock my bike and head toward home. The tech who replaced my brake pads, on this bike which I ride during the weekend, said that the rear brakes would feel "soft." Well, now they don't work. I hear something rubbing against the wheel. One of the pair of new pads has come loose. I disconnect the rear brakes and secure the loose pad with a rubber band, which I carry in a pouch with my head and taillights. In case I'm out before or after dark. During the summer, I never need them in the evening with the sun up late, and the sun comes up so early that I don't need them then either.
It's another Monday when I'm out the door shortly before 5 AM. I'm coming down the steep incline toward the corner next to an open field. Along the way is another open field between a couple of residences. Here is where a memorial for a deceased 20-year-old kid has been for perhaps more than a year. I'm familiar with the way time makes it's way past me immeasurably fast. Next week is the 4th already. I know it's early in the morning, but also it's almost July, and here I am again in long pants and a windbreaker. Anyway, parked among the tall weeds right next to the memorial is a newly arrived camper. Down the hill and around the corner, past the homeless pickup truck, and I'm onto the trail. In the distance, I can see in the breaking light a pair of shopping carts piled with items of many colors. They are next to a bench. It isn't until I get closer that I see a couple on the bench. They blend in with the items in the carts, as their clothes are also of various colors. They appear young, and they silently stare at me. Tuesday I get a ride to work from the sister. The bike goes into the car. We have a dinner appointment with a couple of her oldest friends, and their wives. One couple is celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. And the wife has a degenerative neurological disease. The prognosis isn't positive. My sister has seen more of the two couples than I have. I first met the two guys, it may have been when I visited her here in Denver for the first time. I was 12. As i mentioned, time has a way of passing with an immeasurable speed. It's great to see the guys again after a couple of decades myself. The six of us are taken there in a small SUV "limo" driven by a rock-and -roll-looking guy. After dinner, I spend the night at the sister's. It's curious. This dinner was perhaps a farewell of sorts. Perhaps it felt more like this to myself, as I really never new the wife who is ailing. She did tell a quick story of the husband having left his keys in a gas station bathroom. I mention the "farewell" aspect of this, as this coming Saturday, I will be at the wedding of my boss. Which will be something of a new start for him and his wife. I can't help but find myself wondering what our friend will do once he is without his longtime partner.
There are a few times I awake during the night. Once to use the toilet. I get a glimpse into the world of my brother-in-law. He watches TV early into the morning. I hear him go downstairs to his office in the basement. He has what appears to me to be a full life, much of it nocturnal. My sister goes to bed much earlier. When he's ready to go to sleep, she wakes up and they have a brief discussion before they both hit the hay. It's interesting. I awake the next morning and decide to head out. The sister wasn't sure yesterday, but has decided she needs to get to work straight away. She works from home. I originally decide to grab breakfast at a cafe down the street. I had planned on riding to a supermarket off the trail for an item I can't find at my usual food store, and then head for the waterpark. I decide after breakfast to ride back home before the swim. Thanks to my coworker's vacation, I have the money for next year's homeowner's insurance annual premium payment. What I did was take it out of the bank...to keep it from disappearing. So, with so much cash in my wallet, I don't want to take it to the swimming pool, or anywhere else. I elect to ride back home. Which means climbing some steep hills. And traversing a Catholic school parking lot. And doing this while pushing to get home with enough time to ride to the pool. I actually make it home is just under an hour. This what happens when your day is just go-go-go. Headed for the waterpark, I'm down along the block next to the open field. The homeless pickup truck has it's missing window partially covered with some kind of silver packaging. The are smiley faces printed all over it. Then I'm on the trail. I pass a trio of oncoming cyclists, men in matching white Polo shirts. The lead guy is telling the others something about, "...recycling your bike, that's what it's all about." Down the trail, I pass another trio of oncoming cyclists, these guys in matching cycling shirts with the state flag. Along a couple of spots on the trail are tents set up. Inside of each is a person who appears prepared to hand out water. Standing to the second one is a smiling guy in some kind of uniform Polo shirt and shirts. Behind his a small van is parked. The van, his outfit, and the tents all have some kind of logo. "Cycle Go"? I make it to the waterpark three minutes before they open. More buses and YMCA kids. I do a run down the drop slide into the deep end, and I come out near one group of school kids. One of them tells me, "Good job."
Fuck You Tightey Whitey
Thursday. I originally decide to head back to the waterpark. I'm caught up on whatever sleep I lost. Just onto the bike trail, instead of a street sweeper, I see a smaller trail sweeper. I decide my only hope to get to the pool, with enough time to swim before work, is the train. I'm headed for the station when I decide that the overcast sky and chill in the air makes for a crummy swimming day. I'm already headed for the stop for the bus to work, and I hit the cafe across the street from there to grab breakfast. During the day at work, I hear on local radio that the city transit system has "adopted a new policy. Transients" will no longer be allowed to loiter either on the transit system or at stations. After work, I'm crossing through my intersection. I navigate a bow-legged customer exiting the Vietnamese grocery, a car pulling out of the grocery parking lot, and another pulling in. My last obstacle is an elderly woman standing in front of my mailbox next to the sidewalk. She's dressed head to toe in black and has a small black backpack on the ground next to her. I hear her quietly talking to herself. I park my bike and check my mail. She first queries my presence rhetorically before acknowledging that I haven't spoken to her. I tell her that she smells like beer. She quietly says, "Fuck you," and refers to me as "tightey whitey." I haven't heard this in decades. I ask her if she's waiting for the mail man. He often comes late. She repeats her admonition, and ads that she lives here. I head for my front door and turn back to see her with a fresh unlit cigarette in her mouth. I put my bike inside and come out to grab dinner at a Chinese restaurant behind my place. She's at the front window of a resident across the parking lot drive. "FUCK YOU!," she exclaims into the window. "YOU STOLE MY MONEY BITCH! YOU STOLE MY MONEY BITCH!" The following morning, I decide to repeat the same routine. I have a dentist appointment early in the morning. It's a cleaning. I make it as early as possible because one of the treatments is fluoride applied directly to my teeth. It takes two freaking hours to dry. ...and I'm not supposed to use my teeth before then. I may as well ride back to the cafe, and time my arrival there two hours after my dentist appointment. My current dentist has been within walking distance from home. As early as my appointment is, after I get home and shave and shower (Yes, I went to the dentist without a shower.), I still only have a half hour to myself before I must leave. I spend it working on this blog, trying to make progress in getting it finished for the month. It's been raining off and on so often that I really haven't needed to water the flowers outside. Today is yet another crappy swimming day. I'm out the door and soon headed down the long incline, past the camper parked in the weeds next to a memorial. Parked along the curb, actually on the street, is a newly arrived small pickup truck. Hitched to the back is some kind of small trailer. Tied to one corner of the trailer is a dog leash, with a dog in the collar at the other end of the leash. It's tied to the corner of the trailer on the street side. It's approaching each passing car and bicycle. Inside a half hour, I'm back at the cafe. It's an interesting old cafe right next to a private university. Mostly middle-class folks. Lunching women, students, guys who appear as if they may be retired. One student appears to be here with his grandparents. He tells them about the place next door to where he's living, I suspect off campus. He claims the place next door was torn down and purchased for five million dollars. Outside the cafe on the busy street corner, an elderly woman sells flowers on a spot popular with panhandlers. And tomorrow, the guy I work for is getting married. The lady I am dating is taking me.
