The Woods

I got picked up and took out today.

A friend of mine did. 

Our two birthdays coincide and we've known each other for forty-five years. I bought him a pair of pants and a shirt and a few days later he brought me here. 

It's lockdown. Everything is weird. The place wasn't right. The ride wasn't right. Our driver wasn't right. The city isn't right. Our waiter really wasn't right, at first. 

This is RINO, an explosively developing area. Murals all over the place. Modern architecture. Modern design all over. Young people. Tiny balconies everywhere.

Everywhere.

Tiny balconies make me sad. 

     "Why?" The driver and Bob both really did ask why. 

Just seeing them makes me sad. Seeing people using them makes me more sad. You see people trying to use them but it is reasonably impossible. And there they are out on a balcony with no room to move among thousands of other similar tiny useless balconies facing each other with each other for views. In a spot with incredible views. But not for these balconies. So then, you are all little ants in your little ant pods.

I want them to be sad too. And our collective sadness will bring an end to this tiny balcony business.  

COVID. We didn't get the table or area due to COVID. So we were put on the other side. The first side has the trains, but those are not running as usual, and the other side has development in action. Very interesting; watching all the little ants. We really are like them, we repeat the same things everywhere. From the height of the restaurant the whole place looks like an HO train set. The hotel that the restaurant is in has changed the entire area for cars. The Lyft drivers were stumped. I think they had to turn into the place and then turn around right in that spot, the entire parking area changed or closed off, then entering the street to return involved heading the opposite direction first and picking a random place to turn around. The whole thing is messed up. 

Tent city arose at Civic Park two blocks north of where I live at the capitol. The whole area looks like a dump. A lot more of that around town as homeless are gathered. 

We marveled how a city can suffer and endure limping along as if that suffering isn't happening. The city can partake a massive national hissy fit, subject itself to ridiculous rules and laws that change on whim, very largely destroy its own economy in huge chunks, shed whole industries and still with enough economic force, enough human need, enough pure human energy to carry on as if all that is just another bump in the road. The city is stabbing itself in the heart as it continues to thrive. And we marvel. 

The murals around the city are stunning. They make everything more interesting. They make buildings speak. They turn dull sides of building into pure humanity. The place pulses with humanity even during lockdown with fewer people visible. 

I don't know why Bob wanted me to photograph his squid. He liked it. He also had a starter plate with shrimp and avocado. That was actually a lot more attractive. But I didn't think to photograph it. 

He thinks the squid plate is beautiful. I think it's ugly. So I told him a joke. This really happened. 

I was on South Beach Miami having breakfast. The place was like a diner. I am sitting at the counter on a colorful plastic seat that is slippery. I ordered calamari for breakfast. Weird. I know. But this is South Beach.

They brought out a large bowl. And the calamari is delicious. But there is only so much of that I can take. The squid is predominantly two shapes, and these shapes become less attractive the more full on calamari you become. I only mentioned to the man sitting next to me that the whole thing is fantastic until the shapes of the cuts start to look like a bowl of sphincters and condoms. The man looked at my bowl and cracked up laughing. Loudly. I do not know who he is. He slipped off his slippery chair into a cartoonish crumpled heap. Other people in the restaurant looked over at his commotion. It wasn't that funny but it did describe them perfectly. I cannot forget that guy thinking that was so funny.

Bob didn't think that was funny at all. He was full and he didn't finish his calamari.

The Woods

Their home-brewed Belgian style beer.

The black stripes are the frame for the Plexiglas.

The train to the airport runs every fifteen minutes. 

I was locked into a time-warp. 

It seemed like every five minutes to me. 

Japanese beetle. An invasive species introduced to Colorado in 1900. Coloradans hate them. But I think it's adorable.

It makes me want to tie a thread around its leg and fly it around like a kite.

No wait. That was a flashback to kindergarten in Bethlehem Pennsylvania. Nevermind. 

The strip of tar-covered area appears to be parking for the stadium. It's incredibly long. They must have shuttle service or people would pass out in the heat.

The view gives a bit of a look behind the bare-bones Bauhaus architecture you see along the way. We're thinking there must be a pool in the middle. Certainly a garden.

Too bad my photo didn't focus properly. 

You must walk past this from the elevator to the restaurant. 

I said to my friend, "I bet they're empty." 

He goes, "Huh-uh. I bet they're filled. It's what they're about." He tapped one. Tap, tap, tap. Hollow sound. 

PSYCH! There's no beer in the barrels. They're empty! They're mere decoration. 

What a f'k'n ripoff! 

You're gonna hafta wake up pret-ty early in the morning to pull one off old Chip. 

Downstairs first level away from the restaurant. Their homemade beer is very good. 

The staff is like all the young people in Colorado. They're exceedingly helpful and alert. Coming in, throughout, going out, they leap ahead to open doors. The hostess does not outpace us. They're so fast that they stand there with the door open as doormen. They're patient. They are amazing. As people, not necessarily as staff. They do this all over the state. 

The place gets mixed reviews on Yelp. 

Reviewers say the food is okay but the view is spectacular. 

They complain about the cost of drinks and of food items. 

They complain about service being slow. 

We found everything excellent. I think the food is a bit pricy but I didn't pay. My friend thought the cost was very reasonable. He thought the view is better than I found it. He was fascinated, and he travels the entire world quite extensively. It's his raison d'être. He has better view on his own roof at Cheeseman. It's hard to tell when he's genuinely impressed and when he's just being nice. But he kept saying the view is spectacular. Mind, he's been skiing all his life. He knows the difference between truly spectacular and just okay. He confounds me sometimes. The view is of the low-level unadorned Bauhaus architecture all around, and the back of the train station and the urban residential area on the outskirts of Denver with the city behind them, and of the mountain range. You see the low-level grit of the city. The back of the stadium and the back of the train station, the back of buildings grown up in the back side of Denver.

They get spectacular sunsets. 

But so do I. 

Reviewers rave about the view. But I don't know why. It's only 8 floors up. It's nice, yes, interesting, yes, but that's all. In my humble opinion. 

We enjoyed being outside protected from the sun.

I had a very nice time.

Easter 2013

To 108℉, it is like a hair dryer that blows on the bowl, beep, then it blows regular air to 90℉, beep, and it suggests you to add seed chocolate, to 88.7℉, and it is warm and liquid but not for long. I learned to keep the machine running while filling the molds instead of removing the bowl. Notice how close these up and down temperatures are to body temperature. Professionals keep a standard hair dryer nearby to blow on the surface of the chocolate.

Chronologically this came first. It is Han Solo in carbonate and it is very good chocolate too. I tasted one and thought, "Wow, that is a lot better when it is tempered like that." The discs do not taste nearly this good. Han Solo In lieu of a  rabbit. Maybe I had just get a rabbit mold and do that, make a nice solid rabbit because everyone likes that, but I do think this is more interesting. 

One couldn't take the pressure.

Pressure cooked 10 minutes at 7.5 LBS pressure. Put in cold straight from the refrigerator, cooked, then cooled rapidly by spraying cold water over the entire pot to collapse the pressure valve and release the lid immediately, and chilled with cold water. So shocked twice. Severely shocked. Twice. That loosens the attachment of the membrane between the shell and rest and makes peeling the eggs a snap. These hard boiled eggs are assuredly easy-peel eggs, and in Denver that is something of a feat. 

Sidebar

This book will be left at one of the doors. If it is stolen, then whoever steals it will get a very good book. 

I saw the lady who lives there with a little girl one time and I thought either one might like this, if not she can give it away easily enough. Have a look if you like, or else just skip the whole set. I don't know the lady at all, have not spoken with her, but I believe she can appreciate this book more than I do.

It's about finding fairies in flowers and in the woods. It does have some interesting pop-up mechanisms but it is mostly artwork. Lady-type artwork, and child-like peek-a-boo things. 

The book is cushioned luxuriously extravagantly and unnecessarily, the cover contains a lenticular picture of a fairy that appears in a locket, it is imitating a memorabilia album but not offering the user the chance to insert anything personal of their own, so it's not all that inviting. It purports to be somebody else's personal album.

So there is that.

Back to the baskets, which are actually brown paper bags.

The thing is the Easter Bunny has no judgement at all. None whatsoever. It cannot tell the difference between nutritious salad and candy, delicious Romaine from bitter cabbage, good candy like malted ball eggs and from awful candy like these Cadbury eggs. Yuck. But it's all the same to the rabbit. 

The humans will have to sort through the basket, which is really a bag, and use their own judgement about which things to toss.  

Lemon biscuits.

There was thirty yards of ribbon in the roll, fourteen bags prepared, so two yards each.

MATHS !

4:00 a.m. and not a peep in the whole place. I'm wondering now if I might have dropped a few of these in front of vacant apartments.