Two-wheeled adventures and more
Saturday was a lovely day here in town. I pulled out my mountain bike and got the tires pumped up and a found a useful lock so I could ride down to 32nd and Lowell for the Highlands Street Fair. It was a pretty small fair, but I checked into the possibility of putting solar panels on my house (can be done, not cheap, but costs will be defrayed, in part by the energy company) and enjoyed some falafel and great live music. I also rode my bike to the bank and the library, so I felt very green for all my efforts.
I love my little branch of the Denver Public Library. Smiley. Yep, that's what its called. Because it is a small branch, I pretty much go there to pick up books I've put on hold online, (which is why I went Saturday), but I also usually pick up something from their aging collection too. It got me thinking about how, when I was young, especially, I was a voracious reader. I read everything. And anything I could get my hands on. I read everything by Dick Francis and Victoria Holt. Popular fiction was a steady diet for me. I wonder why that's changed. Am I such a jaded consumer of literature/entertainment now? I own a lot of books because I think I should own them (and someday read them), but I haven't read most of them, or I started them and never finished. So I decided that I needed to try harder at my reading. Mostly its a "just because I can" thing. Reading has given me such escape and release. I'm hoping that I can recapture that a little and maybe offset some of the intense work stress I'm experiencing. The book I had on hold was Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn. I don't remember exactly what prompted me to reserve this title--I think I found a link to it on Crazy Aunt Purl's blog. So I started it Saturday afternoon and finished it last night. A light read, but I really enjoyed it. If you are looking for a period piece (Victorian) with a dash of mystery and romance (alas, the sex is non-existent, it *was* the 1900s), I recommend it. I like the main character and the plot was twisty enough to keep me going.
This evening, over dinner, I started People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks. I read her first book, Year of Wonders, and loved it. I bought her second book, March, and in usual form have yet to crack it. But I'm enjoying this new one.
Sunday I rode my motorcycle up to Estes Park, which is a little town at the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park, for their annual wool festival. It was an absolutely lovely ride up there--sunny with Colorado Blue skies. I saw lots of sheep, goats, alpacas and llamas. Sheep and goats are a noisy bunch while alpacas and llamas just sort of hum to each other. Much quieter. I also watched a sheep dog demonstration and bought some yarn. Nice stuff, but there wasn't as much to choose from as I had hoped. I'm eager to make a pair of socks, but couldn't find any sock yarn I liked or a basic pattern for a newbie.
I've also allowed Milton the cat to go outside in my back yard. I don't think he knows that he could get away if he jumped the six foot fence. Certainly other cats do it all the time, but he is blissfully unaware. The only difficulty is getting him to come back inside when I want him to. He's have a grand ol' time chasing bugs and rolling in the dirt....even now in the dark as I sit on my back porch typing at 9:00pm. I certainly can't catch him, so I've got to figure out the proper inducement to get him back inside. The last two times he's done so freely, tonight I'm having a little more trouble. But he looks so cute in the grass--like a little, tiny panther.
I love my little branch of the Denver Public Library. Smiley. Yep, that's what its called. Because it is a small branch, I pretty much go there to pick up books I've put on hold online, (which is why I went Saturday), but I also usually pick up something from their aging collection too. It got me thinking about how, when I was young, especially, I was a voracious reader. I read everything. And anything I could get my hands on. I read everything by Dick Francis and Victoria Holt. Popular fiction was a steady diet for me. I wonder why that's changed. Am I such a jaded consumer of literature/entertainment now? I own a lot of books because I think I should own them (and someday read them), but I haven't read most of them, or I started them and never finished. So I decided that I needed to try harder at my reading. Mostly its a "just because I can" thing. Reading has given me such escape and release. I'm hoping that I can recapture that a little and maybe offset some of the intense work stress I'm experiencing. The book I had on hold was Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn. I don't remember exactly what prompted me to reserve this title--I think I found a link to it on Crazy Aunt Purl's blog. So I started it Saturday afternoon and finished it last night. A light read, but I really enjoyed it. If you are looking for a period piece (Victorian) with a dash of mystery and romance (alas, the sex is non-existent, it *was* the 1900s), I recommend it. I like the main character and the plot was twisty enough to keep me going.
This evening, over dinner, I started People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks. I read her first book, Year of Wonders, and loved it. I bought her second book, March, and in usual form have yet to crack it. But I'm enjoying this new one.
Sunday I rode my motorcycle up to Estes Park, which is a little town at the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park, for their annual wool festival. It was an absolutely lovely ride up there--sunny with Colorado Blue skies. I saw lots of sheep, goats, alpacas and llamas. Sheep and goats are a noisy bunch while alpacas and llamas just sort of hum to each other. Much quieter. I also watched a sheep dog demonstration and bought some yarn. Nice stuff, but there wasn't as much to choose from as I had hoped. I'm eager to make a pair of socks, but couldn't find any sock yarn I liked or a basic pattern for a newbie.
I've also allowed Milton the cat to go outside in my back yard. I don't think he knows that he could get away if he jumped the six foot fence. Certainly other cats do it all the time, but he is blissfully unaware. The only difficulty is getting him to come back inside when I want him to. He's have a grand ol' time chasing bugs and rolling in the dirt....even now in the dark as I sit on my back porch typing at 9:00pm. I certainly can't catch him, so I've got to figure out the proper inducement to get him back inside. The last two times he's done so freely, tonight I'm having a little more trouble. But he looks so cute in the grass--like a little, tiny panther.