Highlights of the MOPS retreat this weekend:
- Drinking at the bar at the Bayou in Glenwood Springs with two fellow MOPSters (and apparently earning the forever enmity of those staunch non-drinkers in the group… phooey). We had a nice conversation with a pleasant local fellow re: good area restaurants and ones to avoid. Apparently the impression of the non-drinkers (who hung around irritably by the entrance while waiting for a table instead of sitting at the bar) was that we were ready to haul him back to the hotel and jump his bones. Good Lord.
- Launching into a 20-minute political rant at about 1 a.m. Saturday morning. Topic: "Why I am a liberal." Subtopic: "Why it bugs me that y’all are conservatives (couched as ‘Why you should think it’s good that I am a liberal’)". Went over like a lead zeppelin.
- Trouble on the homefront. Giant water leak had softened the cupboards in our hotel suite to the point we thought they’d detach from the walls… the deluge then continued down the wall, over the table and onto my backpack loaded with scrapbooking goodies (!!!). By mere inches did it miss my hotcha new camera.
- Up, up and away! Took the gondola/tram thingy to the top of whatever that mountain is on the outskirts of Glenwood. Ate lunch (yummy but pricey and slooooooooow), messed about in the gift shop (got Fisher an owl ‘cuz he’s wise; got Rhys a fawn ‘cuz he’s a little dear) and got stranded when the tram quit running on account of lightning.
- Got utterly freaked out upon discovering that the woman who was driving the SUV in which I was riding was packin’ heat. And apparently does so 24 hours a day. Nearly excused myself from the car and walked back to the hotel in the DRIVIN’ FUCKIN’ rain.
Monique and me kickin’ back at the Bayou immediately after knockin’ back our sinful wicked alcoholic drinks. (Monique: Newcastle Ale. Me: Lemon drop that was utterly not good. Shauna: "Bikini-Tini" that violated the cardinal rule of not calling anything a martini that’s not a martini… but tasted good anyway.)
Jennifer and me at breakfast. Tip for anyone traveling to Glenwood Springs: Eat at IHOP, eat at Village Inn, eat at the funky diner whose name I cannot remember… but do NOT subject yourself to breakfast at the Ramada. In fact, do not subject yourself to anything about the Ramada, including but not limited to its cheesy-ass circa-1974 decor, its nonfunctional, foil-wallpapered elevators or its less-than-body temperature "hot" tub (I swear I saw an iceberg drifting by).
Jodi is unsure about the safety of this gondola. It’s not actually that far above the ground… but if it fell, it would be a long, bumpy roll to the bottom. We were not reassuring her by bouncing around and trying to make it rock. But then we discovered that it was made in Switzerland and we all felt better.