An Intro

If there is one thing you should know about me, it is that I am a list person. Nothing sucks me in like a good list. The 10 best small towns in Colorado. The 15 most walkable cities in the world. The strangest roadside attractions in Kansas. Thank God for atlasobscura.com. Otherwise I would never have known about the 24-foot reproduction of Van Gogh's Three Sunflowers in a Vase on the side of the road in Goodland, Kansas. If you have never visited Atlas Obscura, I highly recommend it. It confirms my belief that some of the most interesting things in life are found in unexpected nooks and crannies.

This probably has a lot to do with my preoccupation with spending an exorbitant amount of time writing about nothings that are, to me, the greatest somethings in life. It's likely why people spend so much time watching funny animal videos and silly human videos. Seriously, don't ever let anyone shame you for the time spent with Ozzy Man’s "Cats are dodgy wankers" videos. They are both validating and funny.

Besides, we live in a weird world where doom scrolling is a thing. I've been limiting how much doom and gloom I digest every day. Being informed is good. Being extra-super over-informed by every person with an opinion, not so much. Spending hours researching microplastics in male and canine testicles may be counterproductive to getting off the couch and taking a walk. 100%, by the way. 100% of humans and dogs tested had microplastics in their testes. And humans had three times the amount as dogs. Which tracks.

Back to lists. Specifically, mine. The top nothings I like to expand upon. These are in no particular order of importance. Like most people who take the time to write something down — often at the expense of housework or feeding the family — whatever pops into my head at that moment is the most important. But certain things keep orbiting back. Beauty, in its least likely forms. Irritation, which is sometimes just love with bad timing. And discovery — the small kind, the kind that's been there all along waiting for you to notice it.

Things I find beautiful. This can be an art exhibit, a hug from a stranger, a hug from a friend. A rock. A lump of clay molded into a monster by one of my kids. The kids are now young adults, but they still make silly, wonderful things occasionally. You get the picture. Beauty is everywhere, so these posts can be about pretty much anything — and I like to remember them. Especially on overwhelming microplastics-in-the-penis days.

Things I find irritating. For instance, the universally accepted one space instead of two after a period. Accepted by everyone but me. I can be a curmudgeon. I like the visual break. Just like certain YouTube videos where people talk and talk and talk without coming up for air — my ears like pauses. It likely has to do with being on the older end of Generation X. Which in itself is irritating. As a whole, we tend to think of ourselves as infinitely cooler than everyone else. We even think our flaws are cooler. We think being the smaller, forgotten generation is edgy. To this day, even as we open a bag of Cheetos and a fully leaded Coke while flipping off the invisible finger-wagging of our primary care physician, we see this as fringe.

Things I discover. Right now I am sitting on the couch looking out the window at the Front Range. There is nothing but prairie dogs and acres of dirt between me and the Flatirons. The windows are doing their best to keep very fine dirt out of the house. They are losing. Thirty-mile-an-hour straight-line winds are a force of nature. Before November, I had no idea that this was normal. Before November, I had no idea about the Marshall Fire. We currently rent a newly built house. The old house — like every other house in this neighborhood — burned down. On New Year's Eve, 2021, wind gusts up to 115 miles per hour drove fire across open grassland and into the neighborhoods of Superior and Louisville. It destroyed 1,084 homes. When it happened, I was coming up on the one-year anniversary of my dad's death. I wasn't paying much attention to the news, but even if I had been, I'm not sure it would have felt real. Living here, I've discovered that the threat of fire isn't abstract. It is part of daily life. Everyone, regardless of political affiliation, cares that this winter's snowpack was the lowest on record. The drought affects everyone — ranchers, nature enthusiasts, groms (a word I just learned, meaning young talented skiers and snowboarders).

Beyond lists, I love a good quote. My secret desire is to be quotable. Alas, I am not. I used to spend hours trying to come up with wise, wonderful, witty quotes. Now I just Google them. Generations of people have captured the essence of what I want to say better than I ever could. Marcel Proust said it best on the subject of discovery: "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

So there you are — an introduction to what is orbiting now. The inspirations that drive me to click away on my Cheeto-dusted keyboard and share.