Colorado

My house came with a cute little wood burning stove, called an Earth Stove.
Being the middle of summer I didn’t give it much thought. Coming from Florida, all I know about is air conditioning. But burning wood for heat? That means buying firewood, getting it home, cutting it up, and then stacking it. It means sweeping and cleaning ashes, and the figuring out what to do with the ashes. I needed to collect newspaper and kindling, and learn how to light a fire. Oh yes, and then there is the essential sweeping of the chimney.
My pioneer skills are poor at best. But, I am determined to make friends with my stove.

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First we have the Full Gimmer, this is what it is called when you wear you pants legs fully tucked into your boots. Then there is the Half Gimmer, this is where you only tuck the inside part of your pants leg into your boots. I still have not figured out which Gimmer is the correct Gimmer for the fashion conscious woman of the West. I don’t want to make a fashion faux-pas, so I try not to tuck my pant legs into my boots at all. I am now on the look out for Gimmers. I hope no one is just pulling my (pants) leg.

Foot Note: Yesterday, I was wearing my jeans rolled up above my boot tops, and was told I had a Modified Gimmer. What do you mean a Modified Gimmer? I thought there were only 2 Gimmers? Now, I am even more suspicious that this whole Gimmer thing is being made up for my benefit. Still, I don’t want to take any chances.

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The only kind of chains I know about are the ones that are gold and sparkley. Chains for my tires? Who thought of that one? Probably a man, and one with no girlfriend.

OK, tire chains are jewelry for your car. I can get into that. Hum… Let’s see, I would like something striking, yet sophisticated. Maybe something in silver… yes, silver would be nice. Chains that would be wearable for any occasion. Now, where does one buy these lovely chains for their car?

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We city girls are spoiled. Shopping is just so easy. Get in the car, drive to Miami, and shop till you drop. But living in the wilds of Colorado is a different story. I live 20 miles from the nearest town. And they don’t even have a Wal-Mart. The largest city is an hours drive away. How did I think I could survive in the mountains without shopping malls?

Thank goodness I have the internet. I can still shoe shop, till I’m blue in the face. But, I miss trying them on and scrutinizing them in the shoe store mirrors. I miss fighting for the perfect parking spot. I miss the rush of adrenaline at finding that unbelievable bargain. But, that is the sacrifice I make to live with of all this peace and beauty.

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My truck does not like this cold weather. I have to agree. It was born and raised in the tropics. It was modified to not overheat while pulling boats or sitting in traffic with the air conditioning going full blast. The 12 volt battery has given me the most trouble. The truck has had 3 new batteries since the weather turned cold, 2 months ago. And the heater, which has never seen use, does not put out heat. It seems I need a different thermostat, one for cold temperatures. And my coolant hoses are routed incorrectly for cold weather. My radiator is oversized, with no easy way to block the cold incoming air. But at least I have good tires. I still love my truck

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I sat in the little bit of shade that the pickup truck provided. Wearing my boyfriend’s hat and getting the seat of my pants wet from the rain soaked log I was pearched on. I watched in amazement as Tom took logs and turn them into 2×4’s. They do that here, in Colorado.

Where I come from, if you need some lumber, you make a trip to Home Depot. You pick out the prettiest boards, pay the cashier, and load them into your truck. But, you don’t get to watch your man, all muscles and sweat, playing Paul Bunyan. My goodness! Let me see you do that again, Honey.

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Got up one morning to see three female mule deer in my front yard. Ran to get my camera. Just then, one of the girls squatted on her hind legs to pee. I had no idea that female deer squatted. Later that morning, I was at a friend’s house for my ritual morning cup of coffee and gab. I relayed what I had seen, and asked her, “Do you suppose that male deer lift their hind leg to pee like a dog?” This is a question that we decided needed to be posed to someone with deer knowledge.

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Being a city girl, I love pretty shoes. I have many pairs, and shoe shopping is a favorite sport of mine. Winters in Colorado are cold, and I needed to find proper winter boots. So of course, I am more than happy to go shoe shopping. I buy a pair of cute red lace up granny boots, with black fur trim and 3 inch heels. Stunning, but not very warm. OK, how about a pair of pretty pink suede muck-luks? They look cute with jeans, but have a sole about as thick as a pair of flip flops. Not comfortable for walking on gravel. Turns out my bedroom slippers are the warmest winter footwear I own. I tend to wear them everywhere. Not much of a fashion statement. But they don’t look all that bad with my de rigueur “Nanook of the North” winter attire.

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Like the city girl that I am, I inquired about garbage days. The Grimwoods provided me with an old blackened oil drum, calling it the “burn barrel.” Coming from South Florida, were burning anything, gets you immediate attention from the local authorities, I was a bit perplexed. “Just throw your garbage in there and light it”, I was told. “But, what about plastics and spray cans?” I inquired. “Just toss ‘em in, they’ll burn just fine.” So I try, like the good tenant, to do as instructed. I light a kitchen match, toss it into the barrel, and run. Problem is it does not want to light. So I try adding newspaper. That does the trick. Soon there are clouds of black, toxic smoke billowing out of the can and wafting towards my kitchen door. I wonder if I should buy gas masks for everyone. There is something just so wrong about this whole concept. I really miss my garbage men.

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