My new website is up and running and while it’s far from perfect (or complete), I’m pleased enough with it to GO LIVE. It doesn’t have a home search feature yet - I’m still investigating my options and a few pages are Under Construction… but… here it is! www.CharmingOldDenver.com.
Feedback? Please! Missing Links? Let me know!
We central Denverites love our alleys. That’s where our garages are, where we can “donate” unwanted items to alley scavengers and where we keep our City dumpsters. Sometimes we get mad at our dumpsters when they 
block access to our garages (and just TRY to get a dumpster moved!), but for the most part, I’d say we’re pretty happy with our trash disposal system.
However, a few days ago, I saw a pick-up truck cruising down my alley, stopping at each dumpster and poking around in it. His pick-up bed was full of “stuff” - treasures I’m sure. But suddenly, the obvious smacks me in the head. What did I just throw in that public dumpster? Hmmmmmm.
So last night, I took out a small bag of trash - mostly old magazines and junk mail. Today when I opened the lid of the dumpster to toss in the remains of my sushi carry-out container, I saw, with dismay, that the trash from my bag deposited last night was scattered all over the inside of the dumpster - someone had obviously gone through it overnight. Were they looking for my O (Oprah) magazine? Doubt it. Someone who will go through a bag of papers is looking for INFORMATION. Yikes.
I guess this should be a Big Duh moment, but somehow in my idealistic little brain I’ve felt like “my” dumpster was sacred. And secure. Sheesh.
Guess I better fire up the shredder…
I have a new addiction. The Dog Park at Berkeley Park - around 46th & Yates. 
Why do I say “addiction?” Because… imagine the collective energy of 100+ happy dogs racing around the (fenced-in) park, with their 100+ owners proudly overlooking the scene. It’s a rush. Probably something like the rush you get when you shoot illegal nastiness into your veins (no personal experience there though).
On my first visit, I stood in the middle of the park, all by myself, laughing out loud as I watched Baba and Ziggers make new friends, hump old ones and then collapse for a moment or two out of sheer exhaustion, only to spring back to life and begin again.
Feeling a little blue? Head for the Dog Park. Call me - I can be there in five minutes.
I’m addicted.
I love, love, love to rollerblade. I also love, love, love Sloan’s Lake in Denver. Put the two together and you have a happy 
Jennifer.
Temps today in the 70’s, amazingly blue, almost purple sky (at least thru my rose-colored glasses), light wind… ahhhhh… rollerblade bliss.
My poor blades have been packed away for nearly three years - Alabama is not rollerblade-friendly - so I was pleased that I could find them and that the wheels still turn relatively easily.
Sloan’s Lake is a perfect rollerblade park. It’s, I dunno, maybe three miles around on a wide, smooth path right next to the lake. As you’re blading, you can watch the fish jump and the ducks herd their young, or focus inland to see young boys playing soccer or dog-owners playing catch. The lake itself has that lovely lake smell and in certain seasons, the linden trees are almost overpoweringly fragrant.
I love Sloan’s Lake.
One minor gripe. Even though the park isn’t terribly crowded, there are always one or two groups of people who insist on taking up the whole path. You know what I mean. The guy in the middle of his two leashed dogs or the four young mothers with their four strollers. What’s the proper etiquette for a rollerblader? I find that shouting at people from behind simply startles them and more often than not, they jump right into my path. But when I just try to squeeze thru them, I hear their annoyance behind me. Sometimes I choose to express my annoyance by coming to a full stop and simply walking around them on the grass. This usually results in an apology, but that’s not my goal. I just wanna share the path with walkers, riders and fellow bladers without having to shout, squeeze or elicit apologies.
But that’s such a minor issue. I thoroughly enjoyed my first day back in the blades and am looking forward to dozens more as spring turns to summer in Charming Old Denver!
Enjoy this virtual tour I put together in celebration of my “new” old home. It’s a great place to live!
I was away from Denver for two years - two years and six weeks to be exact. Got back to town in January. Love it, love it.
So, to celebrate my return home, here’s a little tribute to Denver…
Denver Is….
…Friendly
I’ve yet to leave the house for any sort of errand and not had a pleasant conversation with someone - a conversation that left me smiling on my way to the next pleasant conversation. Now, that may not sound like much to you, but I’m not at all a people-person and I tend to retreat into my own little world when I’m in public. People are so nice here! I’m inspired to hold up the tradition!
…Healthy
In my two years away, I’d forgotten how darn healthy this town is. 2 degrees outside? No problem! You still see people biking and jogging (not me). I’ve yet to see a cigarette and last night I couldn’t find a parking space at the new organic grocery store in my neighborhood. When I tell someone I’m gluten-free (can’t eat wheat), nine times out of ten they know what I’m talking about.
…Sunny
My first day here, last Sunday, was so darn sunny I could hardly stand it. Where else on the planet do you have Sun Glare reports in conjunction with the local traffic reports? Seriously, the sunshine is fabulous and can make an otherwise chilly day feel like spring. Maybe all the sunshine is why people are so friendly?
…Dry
Dry is good… except while you’re adjusting. I had a pot of boiling water on my stove for weeks which needed replenishing every hour. Chapstick is never far from reach. When I put on my moisturizing lotion in the morning (at 41, I gotta think ahead, y’know), I have to add more 15 minutes later. But, once my body got re-used to it, dry is great. There really IS such a thing as “dry” cold and “dry” heat, both of which make temperature extremes much more bearable.
…Easy to Navigate
On my way to Denver from Alabama, I stopped off in Kansas City to see family. Got lost, lost, lost and lost again. I grew up there, for gawd’s sake! Denver? All grid. Straight lines that intersect at perfect right angles; even the highways are pretty much straight and uncomplicated. Oh, and most of the streets in Central Denver are alphabetical! How cool is that??? (e.g. Zenobia, Yates, Xavier, Wolff, Vrain, Utica, etc.).
…Home
It just feels right. It’s good to be home.
My birthday was February 26. I’m 41 years young.
To celebrate, I convinced a friend to take me to Highland’s Garden Café, which, in years past, was where I always celebrated my Big Day. But I haven’t been there in five years or so, so I was curious to see if it was as fabulous as I remembered.
For the uninitiated, HGC is on 32nd Avenue at Perry Street, in Northwest Denver. It’s built into two Victorian homes and has amazing patios for summer al fresco dining. The interior is delightful – exposed brick, wood floors, beautiful murals on the walls.
You’ll be happy to know that HGC is every bit as wonderful as it always has been. The ambience, the service, the food and the wine… all (dramatically kissing my fingers) superb. Expensive, but worth it.
I’d just like to add that our server, Molly, was only on her second night at the restaurant. Well, Molly, meet Jennifer – NW Denver’s fussiest eater! I have several food sensitivities and I’m getting (in)famous for grilling the wait staff for an ingredient list of every item. She handled me beautifully and never made me feel the slightest bit annoying. That’s important to me!!! So, thanks, Molly!
So… a big thumb’s up to my still-favorite-restaurant-on-the-planet! I’ll be back!
