Labor Day Camping (So I'm a Little Behind on the Ole Blog . . . )

Most people choose to avoid camping on Labor Day weekend . . . especially since half of America tends to congregate into a few shared campgrounds. Fortunately, our friends AG and C. own a parcel of private land, and were kind enough to invite us along for some Labor Day relaxation. (Thank you again AG and C.!!!) Labor Day camping in an exotic location with NO PEOPLE? Count me in!!!!


To give a little background on our chosen activities . . . T. had just returned from taking the Standard at Tom Brown's Tracker School (I know . . . I know . . . ). For those who haven't heard me gushing about the Tracker School - it's a school that focuses on survival skills, including making fire, sanitizing water, creating rope, tanning hide, making animal traps, etc. It teaches awareness of your surroundings and respect for the land. And all of the activities increase self-confidence and encourage the use of your brain - on physical and spiritual levels.

Which explains why we spent a good deal of time carving sticks (throwing sticks, sticks to make fire, sticks to make traps, and just . . . sticks). While the boys did far more carving than I . . . my child managed to snap a photo of me trying my hand at carving a throwing stick out of Aspen. I never knew Aspen was so tough! (Note my stylish combination of cashmere sweater and anime T-shirt. Oh yeah.)


T. also demonstrated some of the basics of tracking . . . and it wasn't long before we found plenty of animal sign . . . including black bear tracks, mountain lion tracks, and a pile of scat that we're fairly certain belonged to the feline.




There were clearer bear tracks behind the outhouse, where the bear had obviously stood up on both hind legs to investigate the small building. Perhaps that answers the age old question: does a bear **** in the woods. I think we've definitely answered it for the Mountain Lion.

I also made sure to photograph some of the local wildflowers so A. and I can work on identifying them later. I'm planning on starting a camping journal - which will be a great way of keeping our memories and learning more about the places we visit!





I'm working on a brighter future for my children and my children's children. All in all, I don't think I'm off to a bad start!

Bird Porn

DNC week (Democratic National Convention . . . for those who are slightly less politically astute than me . . . which means you live in a cave as a hermit and have never heard of the Republican or Democratic parties).

But I digress. DNC week. the week where a diverse group of protesters converged on the 16th Street Mall in Denver, Colorado to hand out little flyers and encourage others to see things from their point of view.

Of all the issues that failed to make it to a candidate's platform . . . .

The Pilgrimage to the DNC

Don't get me wrong. I am truly grateful to have been given the opportunity to attend the DNC, and even if I knew that I would have to repeat every step, exactly as it was, in order to attend again . . . I would, in a heartbeat!

Having said that . . . the line . . . the line . . . When we got to the parking lot at Invesco, it looked like this (and keep in mind, we walked from near the Qwest building to Invesco, which is no small hike in and of itself):


After two more hours of standing in the sun with no water, no trash, and no lavatory, it looked like this:


The general good cheer had dampened into a "good-cheer-as-long-as-you-don't-cut-in-front-of-me-or-I'll-take-you-down-and-search-your-body-for-water-because-dang . . . -I'm-thirsty" mood. At this point, my small group noticed one of the attorneys from our office who was just joining the crowd, and we quietly absorbed her into our small group and hoped no one noticed. It helped that she offered to drop by Burger King and do a milkshake and fry run. As more folks trickled in and tried to join the perimeter, we waived them towards the milling mass of humanity.

Us: The end of the line is in the middle of the parking lot.
Newcomers: (After surveying the line and forestalling a heart attack.) Um . . . WHERE is the end of the line?
Us: Beats the heck out of us. Wade on in!

The best part came when we finally crested the hill and discovered . . . ANOTHER PARKING LOT. Fortunately, the Denver Police Department stepped in at some point and began directing folks, so once you broke free from the milling mass of humanity the second parking lot was a winding snake pattern that you literally took at a jog.

Sadly, I have no pictures of this portion . . . since we were jogging. My favorite part was a row of 20 pristine Port-o-Potties that were safely locked behind a gate so you could see them . . . but not get to them. Then the line wound through a few back alleys, came out on Colfax, wound down an overpass, back up an overpass, back towards Invesco, and finally into a THIRD PARKING LOT. The next day, T. said he saw on the news that the line had reached 6 miles. Other folks think he's exaggerating. I don't. I WALKED THE DARN THING!!!!

And inside Invesco was an even larger mass of humanity!




We surprised the guards by letting out great whoops of joy when we cleared security (but hey! We'd been in the sun from 2:00 to 6:30 . . . we were a little punch happy) - and that was NOTHING compared to the celebration when we found our seats. Apparently the ushers/security folks had given up a few hours prior, and "club reserved" seats actually translated to "general admission to any row on your level.

We made it in time to rock out to music by Stevie Wonder, followed by a speech from Al Gore (pictured on the Mile High scoreboard above). Then I accompanied one of our group on a food run . . . which was amusing in and of itself. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Do you have nachos?
Vendor: Nope. We ran out.
Me: Bottled water?
Vendor: Nope. We ran out.
Me: Pizza?
Vendor: Cheese only. No pepperoni.
Me: Great! Give me two. And two drinks - whatever you have left.
Kitchen Helper: (Shouting from the back.) Be careful how many pizzas you sell. We've only got eight left.

But all glitches aside, I was amazed at the quality of all the speakers, and I am honored to have been present at such a historic event. Barack Obama's speech was well crafted and well delivered - amidst the thunder of stamping feet and a sea of waving flags (see my 30 second DNC clip for a taste of what that was like!) I even waved a flag. It was a lote more fun than I anticipated.

So here's a tribute to history - and to politics - and to good friends who made the alternating waiting and mad rushes bearable!!! Here we are . . . hot, tired, and terribly excited. We're a pretty good looking bunch, don't you think?


WOOT!!!!