Things to Do in Denver When You're Red

I’m an idiot when it comes to sunblock. That doesn’t imply that I’m exactly a genius in other facets of my life, but I particularly fall short in this area. Once in a blue moon, I remember to apply said lotion to my pale body. In the blazing sun, it’s another matter. This is how I earned the charming nickname “Redman” on my New York vacation three years back. A trip to Coney Island sans protective topical cream cooked me like one of Nathan’s Famous red hots from its flagship Brooklyn location.

My recent sojourn to Denver almost resurrected this beloved character thanks to that uber-intensified Southwestern sun that preys on palefaces such as moi, especially those not ready, willing or able to take care of one’s self like lil’ ol’ knothead me. Fortunately, I emerged not so much deep-fried this time around as merely lightly seared.by the light of the Coloradan fireball.

(Yeah. Wah wah wah. Go back to Oregon and cool off in your e-coli laden raindrops.)

But being the hail fellow, well met I be, I braved the elements once again because I had an all-important social function to attend-the third birthday party of my sweet angel baby granddaughter Aefa. For that. I would have stood toe-to-toe with one of those tornadoes that hit Denver only days before we arrived. (Of course, I monitored the weather each day before departure in hopes this wouldn’t reoccur during our trip.)

The party was a rousing success thanks to an early start of 11AM, perfect for toddlers and parents alike, especially those plied with Proseco Bellinis and Mimosas. (no, not the kids. Don’t call Child Protective Services, you ninnies) One of the highlights was the balloon animal artist who made some very impressive inflatable items for the kiddies. He informed us that he was a proud member of the “balloon animal community”. Everybody’s a big shot. Naturally, the birthday girl was the star of the show, even impressing the adults with her wardrobe change at mid-point into a gypsy-like sun dress purchased by her grandmother.  She made quite the sweet haul of presents too. At 1PM, the last guest departed and that is how you play a little kid’s birthday party.

Most of the week was devoted to the care and entertainment of this little one since she had the week off of school. This meant a couple of visits to the playground, including once at Denver’s City Park, a goose’s paradise complete with endless minefields of droppings wherever we stepped. Some little snot tried to bully my granddaughter by trapping her on a play structure, telling her “You’re locked in my dungeon and you have to stay forever!” Not on my watch, kid. I climbed up and freed Aefa while the jail of this homunculus who said that it was now my turn in the dungeon. “Buzz off, you little creep,” I told her as we stepped away. This is why Aefa brought me along. Necessary muscle. The creep’s mother gave me the hairy eyeball, but since she couldn’t manage to pry her prominent behind off the bench to scold her Satanic spawn, I certainly didn’t give a shit. I left that to the geese.

Less successful was a trip to the Denver Art Museum, a miscalculation on our part. Exposing Aefa to culture at that age was pure folly. She was more interested in pushing her own stroller about or closing any door she could. I did manage to squeeze in a quick walk-through of REBRANDED: Polish Film Posters of the American Western. These were one sheets for iconic westerns reinterpreted by Polish artists, films like SHANE, THE MISFITS, HIGH NOON and EL DORADO.

Returning to our senses, we schlepped Aefa off to something more appropriate for her, an ice cream parlor called SWEET ACTION with a rotating menu of handmade flavors made fresh daily. The girls ate Salted Butterscotch and Chocolate Hazelnut that they enjoyed trading spoonfuls while I concentrated on my Stranhan’s Whiskey Brickle. One scoop only. I had to drive.

We managed one Aefa-less excursion when we ventured off for some Happy Hour eats and drinks at the Denver eatery Linger's. This establishment, formerly a mortuary called Olingers, lost the O and changed the mortuaries sign to read: eatuaries. Cute. The grub was damn tasty, particularly the BBQ short rib tacos along with the Wagyu sliders and duck buns. Missing the mark however was the one item that popped off the menu to me-the Achiote Shrimp and Grits. Two smallish shrimps on a skewer over a drizzle of grits and individual chunks of charred pineapple, onion and zucchini. I've gotten bigger samples at Costco. Who drizzles grits? A spoonful at the very least would have justified the dish.

In all, this trip to Colorady was a somewhat subdued affair, but made all the worth-while due to the birthday girl herself and her parents. They make up the sweetest little family unit, complete with silly little Millie, their mooch of a pooch. I am so fortunate to have them in my life along with the rest of this clan in which I have become embedded. To quote Old Lodgeskins from LITTLE BIG MAN. "My heart soars like an eagle." It sounds better in the original Chief Dan George cadence.

So the sun baking was totally justified. Better red than dead. 

Cherney Journey 2013: Denver Omelette

Blogger's note: The following events occurred two weeks prior to the Colorado flooding. My heart goes out to you guys.


A whirlwind of activity carried us through the rest of Cherney Journey 2013.It was a twister, Auntie Em!

Week numbero dos of the Colorado Adventure began with a road trip to the Rocky Mountain National Forest in a RAV-4 with four adults, one toddler and a neurotic New York transplanted pooch named Millie. Absolutely breathtaking. Absolutely excruciating by journey's end, six hours later . I felt like one big cramp. The journey up was fascinating since we were able to get a taste of Colorado proper, traveling through Boulder and smaller towns along the way, Estes Park, home of the Chicken Fried Latte, being a highlight.

 The next day, we followed this up with a morning drive-only 10 minutes away-to the   Rocky Mountain Arsenal Wildlife Refuge, the former site of a World War II chemical weapons facility. In the 1980s,  the government finally decided to hold the mustard gas and clean this area up. Soon bald eagles began to roost there, giving Fish and Wildlife the go-ahead to begin monitoring wildlife in the area. The environmental scrubbing of the grounds lasted until 2010 and plans were made to safely open this to the public. Deer, coyote, eagles, owls and prairie dogs currently occupy the site. On our visit, we were greeted by a herd of bison crossing the road before us. As we drove about the refuge with my son-in-law at the wheel in search of wild critters, I couldn't help but recall pleasant memories of our safari back in South Africa's Kruger Park. It certainly helped that the bloody South African my daughter married made such an excellent guide.

Laurie and I took a chance on my navigational skills to venture forth all by our lonesomes for the Garden of the Gods park in Colorado Springs. This place was phenomenal, some of the most incredible rock formations imaginable in one area. These almost other-wordly landscapes took my bleedin' breath away, they did. Remarkably, the Garden of the Gods and the Arsenal Refuge were free to the public. That's pretty damn impressive in this post-sequester era in which we live.

The Denver proper experience involved some human-made beauty by way of the Denver Art Museum (aka the DAM), a brilliant downtown facility. We were fortunate enough to catch the Nick Cave show entitled Sojourn, mainly because he is one of my favorite musicians and I wanted to see what sort of work he also created. Silly me. This was Nick Cave the artist-a different bloke altogether, from Chicago and not Australia, but also African-American. Color me ignorant. However, what a brilliant show, filled with these bizarre, intricately designed and sewn "soundsuits" as he calls them and many a found object incorporated in his sculptures. Cave's show coincided with DAM's main attraction called Spun: Adventures in Textiles.

But of all the Denver/Colorado sites, one particularly moved me for totally personal reasons. My step-daughter Lindsay gave us a personal tour her law offices on Sunday. Naturally, the place was vacant, so we had access to move around pretty freely on the 20-something floors of this downtown office building. The view out her own office window of Denver and the surrounding area was a panoramic wonder. The whole time, the theme from DYNASTY ran through my head because I am that kind of twit. However,  I suddenly became overwhelmed by it all. My throat closed and I immediately choked up. I found myself awash with such pride for my daughter and everything she's been able to accomplish in her life. Lindsay has grown into this remarkable woman and such an incredible human being of the highest order. She's a knockout in more ways than way.

The rest of the week involved a stop here, a stop there but nothing of much note except for all the weed shops hither and yon with names like Green Health, Herbal Daze and Garden of the Gods. Not the same one I visited. I went to see rocks, not buds. Coming from the restrictive state of Oregon, I was taken aback by the abundance of  liquor stores as well, my favorites being Bubbles Liquor Barn and the store that advertised that "We don't sell to teens!"

All the activity in this second week made me appreciate Stapleton more, probably because now we were able to move about freely and safely return to home base. We continued to eat, drink and be merry amidst the odd weather conditions in this part of the country. Something called a microburst blew through the neighborhood one early evening. From what I can gather, a microburst is a downdraft in a thunderstorm that can bring winds up to 150 miles per hour. I was standing in the backyard blowing bubbles with Aefa when the wind suddenly took care of the job for me, so we wisely went inside, much to Aefa's chagrin since this ruined bubble time. A big gust swooshed through even harder after that in one blast, then headed down the road to cause some real damage. The next night, a lightning storm over Boulder held my attention for at least 45 minutes, being the best fireworks show I ever experienced.

Soon it time to depart the Mile High City and our little family. Leaving the kids was one thing, but trying to extract ourselves away from our granddaughter was downright painful. The time we spent with her was absolute golden. Each day since we left we find that we can recap almost every single moment of it and make it seem like the very first time, comforting us as we wait until the next time.

Memories made. Memories cherished.