Colorado Adventure Center, so we drove out there for my first ever ziplining experience. It's pretty much exactly what you'd expect: soaring down a wire in a harness, trying to keep your shorts from riding up too much while also checking out the views. I got nervous every single time we had to jump off the wooden platforms. They've got the longest zipline in Colorado, but my favorite was their steepest one. I had a real interesting sunburn going on for a couple days after that too...
After ziplining, Murphy and I drove up up up a mountain to see St. Mary's Glacier. It was a rocky .75-mile hike straight up at 10,000 feet elevation, and 100% worth every step. I took my boots off and waded in as soon as we got to the top and the water was freezing and felt incredible. A few kids were fishing, I could hear a mom reading to her daughter on the bank, and every so often you'd hear a far off splash, which was people jumping in off the side of a low cliff across the lake. We hiked up a little more to where the actual glacier was, and I drank from the stream, which tasted like snow. The view was amazing.
And then there's Bixby. Bix had kind of a rough week in Denver. The first thing he did was get so excited that he could go both inside and outside at Murphy's house that he ran smack into the coffee table and cried like babies do when it takes them a second to realize something hurts. He wound up with a cut right over his eye and a smaller one just under, and then his eyeball got all bloodshot and pathetic. Murphy called him Bruiser the rest of the weekend, and the cut scabbed over into a little mark that you could pretend was an inquisitive little eyebrow. And then as soon as we moved over to Lesley's house, he tore his dewclaw, that weird thumby claw lots of dogs have removed. It bled and it hurt and he kept licking at it, so I put a bandage on him and hoped it would get better on its own. It did, mostly, and he didn't cry anymore when I poked at it, but I took him to the vet just in case. (Pleased to say he's down to his goal weight of 60 pounds, less pleased to say that he peed on the floor when we got there. I swear he's housebroken.)
But get this. I'm going to be entirely ego-centric for a moment, and then I'll stop. I've seen two plays during this big adventure of mine, and both of them have been Alice. They were incredibly different plays; Indiana's was student-run and a little stunted and so wonderful in that awkward, earnest, embarrassed teenager way, and then this one was almost a circus, a highly polished production. But - both Alice. Both wonderland. On top of that, I watched the Tim Burton movie version of Alice in Wonderland in the Motel 6 after I stopped hiking because it was the only thing on. It didn't strike me until the end of the the Denver play that this could be the universe telling me, "Listen up! You're Alice, and this adventure is your wonderland. Get to know your Mad Hatters and Red Queens and Cheshire Cats, figure out the moral of your story, and get yourself home in time for tea." You know? Spread the people I've met out like a deck of cards and spread the Alice characters next to them. Therese can be the fickle Duchess in her kitchen, Aaron gets the Caterpillar talking in circles, the Tinderboys are my grinning Cheshire Cat guides. And here I am, feeling bigger and smaller, plucky and hapless, working my way across the chessboard of America. I am down the rabbit hole, and we are all mad. Anna in Wonderland.