Starting mileage: 8,342

Ending mileage: 8,711

Gas purchased in Denver, CO: $4.40 per gallon

Today is my last full day in Denver, and if you’ve been following me on social media, you know I love it here. I’m sad to go, but I’m excited about where I’ll be come Thursday… with my FDHS  girls, Barb, Ruth and Toni in South Haven at Ruth’s amazing home there. Now for a recap of Denver.

My Place

As soon as my VRBO host Tonia opens the royal blue wooden gate with carved white flowers, I know I’m in the right place. Before me is a large enclosed yard with plush green grass, flower gardens, vegetable gardens, a gazebo in the back and in the middle, a large green hammock on a sturdy iron base. We walk toward her artist’s cabin on the back of her property where there is a wooden porch with two wood and bamboo rocking chairs, a porch swing, a table for dining or writing, and a string of lights that await me when night falls.

Inside the French doors is the bedroom with white bedding, an antique vanity dresser and chifforobe, and gray futon. Walking past the bedroom is a large open room with kitchen, dining table and chairs on the left; and mocha colored leather sofa and chair on the right. In the far back corner is a large wooden table with paint splotches from Tonia’s work as an artist. Mostly original art hangs throughout which makes the place unique and cultured. A large metal storage cabinet is partially covered by a sexy James Dean poster held in place by a small round magnet. A framed LIFE magazine cover from March 29, 1968 featuring Jane Fonda as Barbarella hangs in the kitchen. The kitchen has everything I’ll need. There is a microwave and Cuisinart double induction hot place, in lieu of an oven. Tonia tells me that Denver water is safe to drink, and for added freshness a filtered waterspout. Another set of glass doors with a view of the lawn from the kitchen table add natural light to the room.

There are a lot of firsts for Arden. As I wiggle myself onto the hammock, Arden leaps up to join me only to find himself sailing to the other side. It took a little coaxing, but he finally lay beside me once I was horizontal and the hammock was steady. As long as he’s been with me, Arden has not had access to a yard of natural grass. With the frequent droughts in LA, artificial grass is the norm, and dog parks that once had grass have resort to wood chips. I pull a new squeaky, yellow tennis ball from Arden’s bag and pitch it as far as I can. Arden runs with reckless abandon. His vet Patrick has documented Arden’s musculoskeletal issues, noting that he has mild discomfort in his right hip when testing his range of motion which could be caused by osteoarthritis, age-related wear and tear or past trauma. As I watch Arden sprint through the yard, his legs stay straight, running like Forrest Gump in leg braces.

This is the 3rd Airbnb/VRBO rental of my trip, and I am respectful of the properties where I stay. As I return from getting coffee, the first day I’m here, my heart drops to  my feet when I see the gate open. I know I double checked that it was locked. I’m relived when I see gardeners mowing the grass. I’m still an upstanding tenant. Later in the day, a second gardener arrives to tend to the flowers and vegetables. I introduce myself to Stephanie who I learn made a similar cross country trip many years ago, and actually got married to her ex-husband in Rhode Island, my destination for September and October. Stephanie is in her late 60’s, has an agricultural degree in plant and soil science, a son and daughter-in-law in Denver, bikes instead of owning a car and has about 8 clients. I ask and Stephanie confirms that she is doing what she loves. That’s what I strive for.

The People

I know a lot of people in Denver which is why I make this a stopping point on my way to Rhode Island. On Tuesday, I drive downtown to meet Paul, my friend who previously lived in LA where he founded Writer’s Blok. What I refer to as study hall for writers, Writer’s Blok started small in a sandwich shop, then moved to a church social hall before growth called for it’s own physical space on La Cienega Boulevard. Writer’s Blok was booming with more than 50 weekly sessions, operating 7 days a week. Paul sponsored happy hours, book signings and stand-up comics. Who knows what would have happened if it weren’t for the pandemic. Writer’s Blok was forced to close, and like most businesses moved to the virtual space through Discord. Paul moved to Denver just over a year ago, and opened The Process, using similar techniques as Writer’s Blok, expanding the audience to anyone who wants to create structure and develop healthy and lasting processes around their work or creative endeavors. He gives me a tour with many things reminiscent of Writer’s Blok with several improvements, like hot towels for your face with you arrive. Paul gives me some “The Process” swag and a lanyard to return any time this week. My intent to do so is thwarted by the beautiful surroundings of my home here where Arden can run free.

Tuesday night, my friend John Scott drives in from Loveland to have dinner with me. I consider going out to eat in at one of the many neighborhood restaurants, but figure no one wants to hear our rehashing 27 years of friendship and have Mediterranean food delivered. John and I can’t recall the last time we’ve seen each other. We narrow it down to between 13 and 19 years when he moved from LA to San Diego to Denver. John has battled a series of medical issues, any of which would put a lesser man down. Late last year, he was shot 3 times in the chest by a carjacker as he sat in the McDonalds drive thru on his way home from chemo therapy. After 72 hours of surgery and 3 months in the hospital, he is back on his feet, fighting through the physical pain and mental trauma as he awaits the shooter’s trial.

Our conversation lightens as we talk about old times drinking, dancing and laying on the beach, the scene of one of John’s “Mary stories,” when I told him that you get a better tan at the beach than at a pool because of the breeze. John corrected me, “No, it’s the reflection of the sand and the water that gives you a better tan.” I was adamant about my theory and argued that the breeze keeps you cool so you’re able to stay in the sun longer. This disagreement was prior to iPhones and Google. Now I google, “Why do you get more tan on the beach?” Answer: “The beach has natural reflectors with the light-colored sand and water, so you get extra exposure just by being there.” It was easier to stand your ground in 1996.

Wednesday night I take dinner to my Godson Carter’s house to meet his and Tiffany’s 3-week-old daughter Maeve. Does that make me a God grandmother? I went to college at Mars Hill with Carter’s parents, Cindy and Derrick. When he was born in Atlanta, I was living in Charlotte. I drove to Atlanta to meet him the first opportunity I had. It’s been almost 35 years ago, and I still remember that weekend. Carter had colic and cried constantly. The only thing that would calm him was the sound of the vacuum which I ran anytime he started crying. Cindy and Derrick had the cleanest carpet in town. Maeve is a beautiful, alert baby with a full head of dark hair, and no signs or sounds of colic. She stares at Carter intently, though I know she’s too young to see. Carter and Tiffany’s German shepherd Shadow stands proudly over his human sister. Auntie Caroline and her husband Scott are there too. This is Caroline’s first niece, or nephew. As I watch Caroline hold her niece, I’m reminded of my first niece, Amy. I was so excited when she was born. After 3 nieces, 3 nephews, 4 great nieces, and 6 great nephews, I’m a pro at aunting. I got together with Caroline and Scott again tonight, and this time I got to meet their “baby,” a 120 pound German Shepherd named Jax, a gentle giant if there ever was one. Arden, typically fearful of big dogs, lay peacefully beside himJax at dinner and walked in tandem with him around the lake.

Thursday morning I have coffee with Jaclyn who I met at a women’s conference in Austin almost a year ago. We follow each other on Instagram so I know she’s recently moved to Denver. I DM her and asks if she’d like to grab coffee when I’m in town. Jaclyn is the founder of  thesistain.com, an online retailer with “collections to inspire sustainability within your home and wellness.” In Austin, Jaclyn entered a contest for win funding for her company. Though she didn’t win, it was an excellent pitch. I stopped her in the hall afterwards and said, “after listening to you, I just want to burn all of my clothes.” She laughed politely and said that would be even worse for the environment. Her company has moved away from fashion and is focusing on home and wellness while targeting the wedding registry space, a “Zola meets Goop.” Jaclyn is a passionate and inspiring entrepreneur. She has a pitch to investors later this month, and I hope she gets what she asks for.

And last but certainly not least, I reconnect with my old boss Jill. She saw my posts on Instagram and learning that I was going to be in Denver invites me to dinner at her home in Lakewood. Jill and her wife Karen have a beautiful home that they share with border collies Wilson and Monahan, a cat and half a dozen chickens. Jill grills delicious and moist BBQ chicken on the grill, paired with coleslaw and cornbread. It don’t get no better than that! There’s two things about Jill that haven’t changed in 30 years. She’s an avid golfer and a story teller. Everything has a story from the colorful Tiffany style chandelier that hangs over the table to the neon art work to the thick round cutting board. She is as entertaining and memorable as ever. Although we haven’t seen each other in decades, I think of Jill every time my car vibrates from grazing the rumple strips on the freeway. When I did that on a calling trip together in LA, she asked me if I was “driving by Braille?” I hope it’s not another 30 years before our paths cross again.

The City

I am staying in the Potter Highlands Historic district of Denver. The tree-lined streets include a mixture of Victorian, Craftsman, and modern homes. There are restaurants, coffee houses and bars nearby in every direction. On my way to coffee one afternoon, I pass a structure in the shape of a creamery can with big letters “Little Man Ice Cream.” I forego the coffee and order from the menu of unique flavors. Wrought iron tables on a brick patio surround the building. Jazz music plays from hidden speakers. I find this gem early in the week, and when I ask friends about it, the response is the same, “I’ve never been there because there is always a line.” Going somewhere at 3:00 on a Wednesday afternoon that you typically do on the weekend or at night is one of the fringe benefits of retirement. Unlike Park City, I didn’t eat out at many of the restaurants because I was either at someone’s home or eating in to enjoy as much time as possible at my artist’s cottage. I did flavor most of the coffee shops in the area, Method Coffee, Steam Espresso, Blue Sparrow Coffee, but by far my favorite is The Wooden Spoon, not so much for the coffee but for the delicious homemade scones. This morning, the girl behind the counter remembered my name for the order. Just as I was becoming a local, it’s time to leave.