Escaping the Heat, Day 35

Saturday, August 13, 2022

Falling in Love

Reminded me of books by Alexander McCall Smith and Fredrick Backman.

Mike and I packed the car and drove through the wide, green metal gates of 520 S. Loomis into the alley for the last time, carrying fond memories of Fort Collins, Maybe I didn’t want to leave because I realized I had not put my earrings in my lobes. Another ride down the alley and through the gates. I found the earrings rested on the surface that I had scanned earlier multiple times. The return allowed me one more glimpse in the treasured full-length mirror attached to the kitchen door, the mirror which took 60 pounds off my post-menopausal frame.

First a stop at The Bluebird Café, just down the street, to enjoy coffee and breakfast on the porch of a former home before leaving Fort Collins for good. Mike and I agreed we could consider it for a summer home.

Our new friends from the New Belgium Brewery were correct: the residential sprawl of Denver was filling in gaps to Fort Collins. We enjoyed viewing the large open lots of the new developments and appreciated drivers less aggressive than those in Arizona. We were on our way to Loveland to see if we agreed with our new friends that it was less desirable than FC.

Loveland impressed me as a mini FC. A smaller but attractive old town added to the historical charm. The neighborhoods that we drove through, although not as elegant as FC, were no less well-maintained. Loveland also offered a first glimpse of the mountains.

A brief stop in Frederick to spend a few minutes with P-Dil’s brother Bobby, then on to merge with the traffic into Denver.

It was the early 1960s when my family of six sardined into a 57 blue Chevy pulling an Apache pop-up tent trailer across the country to California. It was truly a bonding experience that we older siblings refer to often. On that trip, I fell in love with Colorado with the first view of the mountains outside Denver. These were not the hills of the Midwest. To my 13-year-old eyes, the mountains appeared to be on the edge of town, and I was amazed at how long we had to drive to reach them. Like recalling your first love, my heart swelled as I viewed the mountains again on this trip.

Being too early to check into our next home, we located the Glendale Laundromat, which turned out to be much cleaner than the Poudre Laundromat in FC, probably because there was an attendant present. Unlike Poudre, all the machines worked, there were sinks for water for wiping counters, and bathrooms.

Feeling at odds, we stopped for a lunch of a malt and a Peanut Buster Parfait at a Dairy Queen where we were waited on by teenagers with attitude. Welcome to city life. Gone were the nice people of Utah. 

Now time to check in at 620 Hudson, a beautiful guest suite attached to the rear of a home in an upscale neighborhood. Sliding doors opened to the main floor offering a kitchenette with dishwasher and stove top, a sitting area with a sectional couch and television, a dining area, and a storage closet. The comfortable bedroom and bathroom were upstairs and offered two balconies.

The owner Brad and partner Evan greeted us that evening, offering use of the laundry in the main house accessed from our first floor. Their four friendly dogs, three large blondies (poodles?) and a dark pug (?) challenged us to let them sniff, then became our newest best friends. The pug reminded me of a pig but more adorable.

Tired from a day of traveling, poor diet, and doing little else, we fought with the Roku to find something to watch on television while snacking on sandwiches and Googling to make plans for the week.  

Author: Mary Cornelius

I am an aging woman who writes three blogs.

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