Rocky Mountain High

By now, you have probably forgotten that we went to Colorado last week, or you think I'm lying about it, but really, we DID go, and we DID have a great time.

Can I just tell you how much I love that place? Not so much in the dead of their longass winters, but in the summer? When it's a full 60 degrees cooler than it is here? Heaven. In fact, my little snowangels worked their magic again, and it friggin' snowed for two days. In JUNE. Not enough to really stick on the ground, but plenty of real live flurries, snowballs, and all the wet clothes that go with such fun. Hooray for the laundry room.

We stayed in this little lean-to again, courtesy of my parents' best friends:

She is sweet, no? And huge. Usually, we have about 12 folks, with plenty of room for more, but this time, it was just us and my parents, which means that the week was all about Peach and Olive, which means hiking and horses, respectively.

On our hikes and drives, we saw things like this:

And this:

And this:

I'm pretty sure Olive counted and/or caressed every horse in the county, including this guy at a Morgan farm, the owner of which my dad has practically been stalking over the years because that's his favorite breed:

The highlight of our equine adventures is always the annual riding lessons, and this year, both of our lil' cowgirls were old enough to partake. Peach had a private lesson on Carmel, who looked to be about 4 or 5, and Olive took a spin, led by Cowgirl Andrea from Kansas, on a black and white pony named, quite appropriately, Spirit. This is where it gets interesting. See, ponies, in general, can be a little skittish, some might even say "spirited." So, in what could very well be a $10K AFV-type moment, after a couple of turns around the ring, Mr. Spirit had had enough of Miss Olive on his back, and he tried to BUCK her off. For reals, y'all! And in the moment, I was not even scared really because she just held on and literally rode him out, totally cool. Poor Cowgirl Andrea about shit herself and quickly choked up on the 3 foot lead she had given Spirit earlier. Then she asked Olive if she was okay ("Yes.") and if she wanted to keep going ("Yes!" or more like "Duh!"). So, off they rode, into the sunset, as I dreamed of Olive's future.

Finally, I knew we were in for a good time when, our first night on the road, we pulled up to our motor lodge in Fort Stockton, and there was a large quacking box in the driveway. It seems a stray duck had found its way to the parking lot, and the dayshift desk girl was taking it home to her farm. For the rest of the night, T-Bone serenaded me with, yes, "Duck in a Box." "Step one ..."

Happy Father's Day, you big lug.