This weekend was a bit surreal in terms of experiences.
So, Thursday evening I got a frantic message from a woman saying her mother is leaving for Paris on Friday morning and could I watch her dog for the next 13 days. Upon learning that the dog is a breed I grew up with (German Shorthaired Pointer) and is 13 years old, I agreed, sight unseen, to pick up this dog Friday morning from a loft in Union Station, a very swanky area in downtown Denver. The mother, who I discovered travels frequently to Paris, is a high end interior designer. Her pup, who I have nicknamed "La Vieille Dame," is a lovely and sweet old lady who barks at her dog food and tries to dig holes in my carpet with her front paws to create a comfortable spot for sleeping.
Saturday morning, I woke up to the police knocking at my door to ask me about the "squatters" who have taken over the old grow house next door. Sigh. Dorothy, we're not in Union Station anymore. The officer and my neighbor reported that people have taken over the house, they come to party at night, and did I ever hear them?
The police were going to call in a company to board the house up and try to track down the owner. Mulling over the idea of living next to a boarded up house, I supposed the house couldn't possibly look any worse than it already did with a queen-sized mattress leaning against the garage door and miles of PVC pipe piled up in the driveway next to the overgrown weed fest of a yard. Weed in the actual sense of the word.
Saturday evening we headed over to the wedding reception of one of my daughter's former daycare teachers. A family friend was hosting it at their home. This neighborhood was definitely where some of Colorado's 1% live. My kids jumped out of my car and raced across the exotic xeriscaping of the expansive front yard, stopping only long enough to leave fingerprints all over some gorgeous vehicles in a 4-car garage before running into the house and stopping just short of a well- appointed dessert bar. Yes, don't mind them, they will have one of each. Will you please let the bride know that her guests from south Thornton have arrived?
Later Saturday evening, we drove an hour south to beautiful rolling hills alongside the mountains to a friend and co-worker's home and land for a pig roast. It was like going to Disneyland Colorado style. Beautiful acreage with pigs, cows, woods, tire swings, playgrounds. It was A River Runs Through It minus Brad Pitt. The kids and I hung around the buffet table poking at the fully-intact face of the pig who had been roasted earlier in the evening. Afterwards, we danced and played and listened as some police officers tried their hand at karaoke (stick to fighting crime, guys).
Our weekend wrapped up with church and lunch with grandma and grandpa. Through it all, the kids were superstars. I'm not sure what kool-aid they started the weekend with, but they were model children all weekend. I felt so grateful and blessed to have such diverse friendships and the opportunity to expose my kids to different experiences.