As the world knows, yesterday was Easter. It was my mother’s birthday. And if you have been living underground for the past year, it was 420 here in the land of legal pot. There was a rally in Denver which seems unnecessary. What are they rallying for?
Since I don’t celebrate Easter, yesterday was all about Mom. So at the crack of dawn, we queued up at this place:
Now, go ahead and assume that because we went to a fancy doughnut shop that we partook in that 420 rally. The line for doughnuts was out the door and everyone, except for a foursome of college-aged girls with unusually vibrant energy for 7:30am on a Sunday, was mellow. I stand my ground that everyone in line was baked. Well, not Mom, Dad, and me. Had we been stoned, the rowdy college girls might not have seemed so painfully intriguing. Might’ve.
Then we went here:
Colorado boasts a mild climate compared to where I came from (Chicago, bitches). Since the climate is kinder to humans and other living things, the flowers and trees at the Gardens put on a beautiful show for Mom’s special day. I fell in love with the Pasque flower which is native to Colorado and is soft as kitten fur.
We made a stop at Denver’s finest sour beer brewery and a rival to California’s Russian River, in my opinion:
And then a brief hike at Lily Lake (8900ft above sea level) in Rocky Mountain National Park was in order, a place where we saw two muskrats and lots of evil geese getting ready for spring. Mr. T climbed a boulder with me. He hates to climb.
The evening rounded out with baked chicken, roasted asparagus in olive oil and garlic, buttered Parmesan macaroni (a family favorite) all prepared by yours truly, another Voodoo doughnut for the birthday lady, an educational sit-down with Neil deGrasse Tyson, and then a glimpse at Mars in the clear, night sky.
Farewell, friends. Back to the editing cave I go…