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Golden Donuts

Friends,

Yesterday I dropped my youngest off in Golden (he’ll be attending the school of mines). Although I tried to be present in the moment, I couldn’t keep my thoughts from wandering. For instance, we had lunch at the Windy Saddle restaurant. Cool name, right? Except, when you’re riding, the only “wind” that blows on the seat of your saddle comes from within you —I suppose fewer people would eat at the Farty Saddle. Then there’s the Coors brewery, nestled between the North and South Table Mesas. The redundancy notwithstanding (table and mesa are synonymous), shouldn’t the cerveza go on a mesa? —not betwixt them.

I suppose my old habit of making random associations is a means to cope with change. After all, the more things change, the more... they’re different. Granted, not all facets change at once, and those that have not been altered, well, they stay the same. Like donuts on a Friday morning... mmm, delicious!

The Windy Saddle


Happy Friday!

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