Category Archives: musing

Gold Status Achived

Oh Hai cuties.

peg and steve

So, 50 years ago today , these two adorable, amazing, fabulous, fantastic folks tied the knot.

At an age when most people are still at the HEIGHT of teenaged dumbassery -that is totally a word-  they were looking at each other over a wedding license and seeing the future of a family.

I know that “times were different” then, and it would be easy to use that reasoning when thinking about them getting married at 18 and just chalk it up to “different times.”  I think that through the years, growing up, my sister and I have done that in our minds – painting a bit of a simplified, if not idealized, version of our parents’ love story in our heads.

But that’s not really it.   Before they were Mom and Dad, or Grandma and Grandpa, they were Peg and Steve….  There was first dates and butterflies and going steady and parental opinions and all the ups and downs of high school dating.

And also, there were two kids from two families, each with a history that would help shape their decisions regarding the future.   They may have been young, but their marriage was not something either of them entered into naively.   Not one bit.

I watch them together now – and I marvel at the connection.  They are two complete and separate people, but for the past 50 years they have shared the timeline of one life.  We have watched them cheer each other on, defend each other, sacrifice for each other, draw close to each other in times of sadness, or fright, or pain…   Their relationship formed the foundation of how our family would treat each other, and those we found connection with, in this world.   Has it been tested?  Well –  they had twin daughters… who were teenagers for a time… AND ONE OF THEM WAS ME.  Sooooo, yeah.

It has been tested.

But that foundation of our family – that always has been, and is now, and ever will be long after all of us have come and gone and generations have come to take our places – remains.  Somehow, under the weight of each new generation it supports, it only gets stronger.

So today I want to say thank you to my mom and dad.  50 years ago you made a brave choice to start a life together – and set in motion the story of all of us.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY – Maude and Daddy (Mom and Daddy, Nene/Nana and Pop, Steve and Peg)

We all love you so.

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One. Last. Night.

All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again…

The end of the holiday season always turns me all “Disney Peter Pan’y” about things.

The sad truth is I totes have to give myself a pep talk before I say goodbye to all things holiday for another year.  Convincing myself that it will be November again before I know it, so it is ok to let it go now.

I start searching for reasons to leave the decorations up…

“No one will take anything down in this cold weather!”   :::: promptly heats up to the 50s:::  (crap)

“Oh, the tree stays up until Epiphany,”  (according to a meme posted on FB by an author I know and love, of a quote I had forgotten from Downton Abbey, so DUH, MANDITORY.)

“On the front range we leave our exterior lights up through the end of the National Western Stock Show”  – The Mr is NOT from CO, and NOT having any of this…. Those lights are down already, leaving my wreath looking oh-so-very lonely (rude.)

“This is not a holiday decoration, it’s WINTER DÉCOR!”  Said while snuggling under a snowflake quilt (which I was using to hide my santa socks that you can pry off me IF YOU EFFING DARE.)

“But Jr loves his holiday toys/ coloring books/TV Shows/etc”    Queue heavy sigh from the kiddo while his crazy mom spreads out Santa coloring sheets and starts the Nina’s World Hanukkah special on the DVR. AGAIN.

I get it.  I am out of excuses…  it. Is time.

And so tomorrow, (Epiphany, for those subscribe to that theory, btw,) I will give in.   The Mr will drag up the storage bins out of the basement storage area, and I will wrap and cushion and pack…  Un-decking the halls and un-trimming the trees.  I promise, I really will.

But tonight…  January 5th, 2018?  Tonight, the tree will glow, the fire will crackle under the bough-covered mantle, flannel Christmas jammies will be worn as we color pictures of trees and dreidels and  elves building snowmen while watching Merry Christmas Charlie Brown ONE LAST TIME.  Tonight I will settle in, after everyone else is asleep, to listen to carols and drink a Candy Cane Lane hot toddy in the glow of the tree lights and get all wishy-washy and misty-eyed… and maybe fall asleep with Binky the wonder dog laying on my lap nuzzling my Rudolph slipper.

Tonight still belongs to Christmas, in all the amazing ways my family celebrates the season.

Tomorrow will come soon enough.

 

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The most wonderful (TV) time of the year?

Old faithful, spending retirement in the corner of my home office.

So  here we are sliding down the back side of Fall, with the season of holidays picking up steam.

Or as I always thought of it when I was little “the season of the holiday TV cartoon special.”

I freaking LOVE ME some holiday cartoons.   If you animate it, Keri is HERE. FOR. IT.

And don’t get me wrong – Jr is totes here for it too…

But it’s just… well…  Different.

This year when I fired up It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,  (onDemand, natch,) he was at least one foot in the “meh” zone about the whole thing.

I taped TONS of Halloween/fall episodes of some of his absolute fave cartoons, and I was more excited than he was for the most part.

That last sentence?   Therein lies the rub if you really look at it – I said “taped”….  People don’t “tape” shit anymore Keri, ffs.  You record it.  Because it’s NOT on tape.  But really, you don’t even do that.

You pull it up on Netflix, or Amazon or onDemand (like my Charlie Brown example,) or WHATEVER platform you dig, and you do it any damn time you want.

It’s not special.  It’s just normal.  And it’s bummin’ me out a little bit.

When Dr. Sissy and I were tiny twins, holiday cartoon specials were a big deal.  Like CAPITAL “B” CAPITAL “D” Big Deal, yo.

If The Great Pumpkin was coming, or The Grinch was going to steal Christmas on TV that night, preparations were made in advance at our house.  Sometimes it meant we got to pick something special to eat for dinner  – like my high holy culinary grail of kiddo- Keri-coveted treat dinners: The Swanson’s  Fried Chicken TV Dinner (dear God Keri, stop talking and delete this embarrassment…  but NO, I push on.)

Even if it was just hot dogs and blue box mac and cheese, it ALWAYS meant we got to eat in front of the TV that evening, which was rare.  We had two TVs in the house, in a VERY technical sense of that count. One normal “modern” television, and one that was O.L.D.

Holiday special nights usually meant that we fired up the O.L.D. set at least a half hour before said special started, so THE TUBE HAD TIME TO WARM UP (I shit you not, kids, this was a thing back then.)

Did I mention it was a black and white set?

See, now this is making Keri sound older than she actually is –  we were well out of the B/W TV set era by the time all of this was going down, but the set was in the room right off of our kitchen, and chances are daddy was down stairs watching football on the TV in the family room (or anything other than cartoons, because he was not the adult fan that his daughter is today,) so we fired up old faithful,  carefully set our metal chicken dinner containers onto our TV trays,  and waited for the picture to fade in.

Sure, as we got a bit older and a VCR that we could set to record (which was a bitch, BTW,) came into our lives, we could’ve taped the shows (and I mean actually taped here, folks,) but we didn’t.

We checked the TV Guide (that was an insert in the newspaper each week that listed what was on – before we had 9 billion channels and an interactive guide,) we adjusted the foil on the bunny ear antenna, and we got excited.

And if we missed it, then it was just too bad.  Life lesson learned.

If we missed the Great Pumpkin, we were that much more careful to make sure that we were in front of that TV when Snoopy started popping popcorn and flinging pretzels around that ping pong table at Thanksgiving.

It. Was. Special.  If you missed it, it was gone for a year.

Now?

Now it’s meh.  Because chances are mom can find it on her phone if you are getting rambunctious in the car or something.

Now your biggest fear isn’t that the old black and white console set will finally blow a tube and not warm up – it is the horror of the Grandparents’ inferior WiFi that might force you onto your mom’s work hotspot.

Sigh.

But I am NOT sinking into modern-day holiday special ennui without a fight, people.  Oh no no NO.

I am going to throw the picnic blanket on the floor, lay out a spread of kid friendly food that would make any tiny tummy growl in anticipation,  and fire up all the specials in the coming months.

ALL. THE. SPECIALS.

And this season, when the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes,  I am going to do my level best to make sure that Jr’s does too.

I may even get myself a TV Dinner.

(yes I know they don’t call them that anymore, shut up you are ruining it.)

Happy viewing, everyone.

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Careful what you wish for.

yes we are, SnapKeri… we really really are

Be careful what you wish for.

That’s what “they” say, right?

Whatever.  I always scoffed at that statement.  Like HELLO, we get it, life happens… but I am a grown-ass woman, and I know what I want, damnit.  Right?

Right.

Someone recently pointed out that my Instagram account has been (relatively)  quiet of late….
TBH all of Keri’s social media has been uber slow compared to my usual constant stream of overshare.

Here’s the thing –  how many pics of “my Bae Caesar” (salad) can one person possibly Insta?  At what point do even the most loyal of the Snap fam heavy sigh at yet ANOTHER salute to a Friday night charcuterie board with some (I think) clever caption about how fast I will be asleep on the floor in front of Twin Peaks after eating it? When does watching Dr Sissy and me exchange Mary Kate and Ashley GIFs on Twitter AGAIN drive a kind-hearted but still over it follower to mute because JUST ENOUGH ALREADY @todds_wife!?

What. A. Rut.

Long story short (too late) it was straight up Groundhog Day in Keri-land, yo.  And one more Snap featuring Jr’s rainforest animals soother glowing on the ceiling while his favorite obscure Paul Simon song plays in the soothing  half-light just suddenly felt like I was highlighting the horrifically mundane.

Can a girl get some variety in life, or what, universe!?

Here comes that “careful what you wish for” shit.

Labor Day weekend rolled around….  It was typical – there was pool time and BBQing and showing our fave brewery some consumer love and all of that….

And then Jr started to cough.  By Monday evening when I put him into bed (and he coughed himself to sleep to “Rene and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War,” natch,) I was ready for a shower and some sleep….

But when I emerged, wet haired and jammie-clad, down the stairs, I found The Mr folded up at a weird angle on the sofa, grimacing.

He’d stepped wrong off the bottom step in the garage and the top of his foot hurt.  I grabbed a heating pad, chalked it up to our aging ligaments, and figured it would be fine by the morning,

12 hours later I had a son with a nasty viral lung funk and a husband with a foot that was broken in two places.  I also had a slew of in-person meetings at the office with a visiting- from-out-of-town coworker,  and no grandparents in town to help out with poor sicky Jr for at least the first day or two…

Groundhog day was over, y’all.

Careful. What. You. Wish. For.

The next week was a surreal blur of doctor’s appointments,  barf buckets, conference calls, air-casts, dog walking, temperature-taking, co-worker bonding, frustrated-husband comforting, rushing back-and-forth CRAZIENESS.

And as the days passed, and I marched on through the chaos, it dawned on me – you asked for different, Keri.  You poked the universal bear.

Jr returned to school and all of his activities after a week of down time; twice a day I run Potter around the path by the reservoir so he can do his doggie business;  I haul ass to the office every morning later than I’d like, hoping to NOT get the shittiest parking spot in the lot….

Things certainly did get a shake up , I guess.

You’re welcome, Snap Fam, for the eleventy billion additions to my story of me walking the dog and comparing The Mr’s air cast to an 80s ski boot.

Turns out variety doesn’t = exciting content after all.  BUT, no more over-curating from Keri.  After all, what breaks up the day better than a good social media over-share?

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Who’s up for a drive?

 **ETA – Open as of August 11!!!! **

Let’s be honest, when you move to a new place (or back to an old place,) and you have to put yourself out there and find new places and new people who can tolerate your level of weird you can connect with, it sucks.  Finding a great place to eat where they love your kid like you love your kid, a brewery where the beer AND the people both rock, neighbors who feel comfortable breaking in to your back yard when they see the fire pit going, and coworkers who make you maybe NOT want to work from home every damn day can be a real bitch, yo?

It takes time… there are false starts, there are strange vibes and weirdos (and not the good kind,) and all kinds of potential potholes you can’t always avoid.

But you get there.  You find your folks.  You land at a spot or two where, eventually, your conversation AND your wifi both connect automatically when you sit down after a long day.

You settle in.

And then they leave your ass.

Ok, that is 100% over-simplifying it, but I am prone to drama, so whatever.

When we arrived back in this sleepy little hamlet (seriously Keri?  I just eye-rolled at myself with that one,) one of the first times I remember thinking “hey, we are going to be ok here after all,” was the first time I opened the door of Broomfield’s 1st Brewery, Big Choice Brewing.  Social Distortion blasted through the speakers, and it smelled deliciously, invitingly beery.  And holy shit, was the beer GOOOOD.

YAS, people, just YASS.

For the past 5 years it’s been where we go.  It just has.  Jr learned to climb stairs one quiet weekend afternoon there as we waited for an early dinner to come off whatever BBQ food truck happened to be parked outside that day. My coworkers and I toasted great news with pints of Disconnected Red, and commiserated in mutual exhausted silence with Peppermint Stout during end-of-year craziness. Faces around the tasting room became familiar and every visit became a chance to check-in, catch up, and connect.

Together we celebrated 5 anniversaries of their awesome beer and awesome-er (totally a word) community spirit with them. We got to watch the brewery grow into itself, and the owners turn from being “really friendly people” in to being just our very good friends.

But here is the thing about being really great.  The best kinds of greatness always grow WAY beyond whatever level of great you could have imagined.

And so last month – in a final blaze of Broomfield beer-serving glory, Big Choice said goodbye to it’s original home and hometown, and the Big Choice family started renovations on an amazing new space in Brighton – a town about 15-20 minutes away. (The Mr states it is 17 minutes from our door to theirs.)

It isn’t really FAR, per se.  It’s just not “in the same city as home and office close” anymore.  Which means it will be a weekend afternoon destination now, rather than a last minute wanna grab a beer any given weekday spot.

And believe me – our ugly mugs will be there OFTEN, the beer is great, the new space is SO COOL, and the chance to see old friends and meet some new ones in Brighton will be awesome too.

It’s just…  different.

And even if it was a little teary for me to imagine them anywhere else at first, I am so proud of how they have grown in these 5 years, and so excited to see what happens next for them.

The new space is ALMOST complete – the actual opening date is not decided yet, but you KNOW Keri will be blasting that all over here and every social media site she can when they pin one down.  (*ETA* Open as of 8/11!!!)

Hey Brighton – you are SO FREAKING LUCKY!  I’ll see ya soon at the brewery.

Soooo Broomfield… I know a place with some beer that is SO worth the trip….  Who wants to share an Uber?

Big Choice Brewing – 21 S. 1st Ave, Brighton CO

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