Our little ten and a half hour trip to the mile high city went off without, as they say, a hitch…snowy roads from Libre to the Lazy S, then dry dirt to dry pavement to dry interstate and traffic predictably thickening from Pueblo, worse after the Springs, impossible approaching Denver but somehow we were at the Robischon Gallery at eleven despite…

Linda dismantled a wall piece for repair and we went for an excellent nineteenth anniversary lunch at the Kitchen [highly recommended; corner of Fifteenth and Wazee; also available in Boulder] then walked slushy streets in balmy air to the MCA for Adam Lerner’s utterly genius show of Mark Mothersbaugh’s absolutely genius work [“Beautiful mutants, dough-faced sculptures, mysterious manifestos, 30,000 handmade postcards”…and much much more] for which we had not nearly enough time; anyone within a thousand miles of Denver between now and May should go see this, or keep an eye out, as it will travel…

We fled to a north Denver powdercoater with the wall piece, after which  threaded our way south through the urb to an ugly bit of opportunistic “new urbanism” [the developer’s personal perversion of the concept] to see a friend’s show in said developer’s personal art/tax scam, his  very own Museum of Outdoor Art, whose awkward indoor component, above the library and across an upstairs atrium from the city offices, was where Scott’s stuff was.  Strange space, but not nearly as unfortunate as the fate of the myriad minor [not to mention often downright awful] sculptures stuffed into alleyways and strewn across the barren lawns of the “new urbanism”.  The best thing about it was watching endless coal trains rumbling south beyond the picture windows across the atrium [not shown]

We got out of there, maybe even before rush hour though it was hard to tell, slogging west on some fourlane soggy surface street to I-25, and south in idiot [particularly so from Castle Rock to Monument] traffic, faster the further we got south, to Pueblo for a last hit of groceries, reaching the dry dirt of CR 620 at exactly 6:20…

A few miles in it began to get slushy, and before Libre the slush turned icy, but we were in the door ten and a half hours after we left…to awake the next morning in a cloud.