Philly Ted...

I'm visiting my parents this weekend.  My weekend began late Friday afternoon after office hours with a fill-up and a hot cup of joe for the road.  Five hours later, I pulled into my parents' driveway.

Being this close is nice.  As mentioned, this is the closest I've lived to my parents since high school.  I can now plan to spend holidays and long weekends with them where I haven't in the past.  Additionally, I have the opportunity to frequent some of my hometown favorites.  One of these favorites is Philly Ted's.

Ted moved to Rapid from the Philadelphia area (hence, "Philly") to experience a piece of the West.  Upon arriving in the Hills, he opened a steakcheese joint in what may be best described as a closet of an establishment (it was small, really small).

I was a regular when it first opened.  I was a Park Ranger at Mount Rushmore for the summer and would order a hoagie nearly every week.  I enjoyed talking to Ted about everything from Western history to football (Ryan and Jake, the two of you would like this guy, trust me).  Seven years later, he has moved into a newer, larger location, but he remains much the same.  We haven't seen each other in several years, but he was quick to remember me.

The new place has a distinct atmosphere complete with sports memorabilia, such as a signed Broncos' jersey.  It also comes complete with in-your-face signage reminding you that if you're not man enough to go elsewhere.  My personal favorite is a big sign greeting customers as you enter with directions to the nearest McDonald's.

I honestly love this place.  It's nearly enough to make a guy cheer for the Phillies.

The dropping of the puck...

Yes, my friends, hockey season is here once again!

My Avs have had a rough go to start the beginning of the season.  They lost the home opener, a game they completely dominated, by a goal and then lost their second game, a game they once again dominated, in the last seconds of the game.  Game three went to Calgary by a single goal as well.

Two nights ago, we finally put it together.

Last night, I took a break.  I am allowing myself one night per weekend to enjoy life.  Grading and planning is dominating the rest of my time.

A group of my friends and I meet every Friday night for dinner at Altitudes.  Last night, we broke from tradition and headed south to Ft Collins for the Colorado Eagles' season opening game.  Of special interest, my hometown Rush were playing their first game ever.  I wasn't expecting too much as they had played last week and my team was beaten badly: 6-0.

This game was a real treat.  Although the Rush eventually lost, they made a real game of it.

Down 6-5 with less than 5 minutes to go, we tied it up and sent the game into overtime.  Neither team scored during the overtime period which forced a shootout.  For the first game of the season, both teams looked to be in late-season form skating hard and fast with good puck movement.

This really was one of the best games I've ever taken in.  My only hope is that we don't have to wait as long for their first win.

In search of a church home (it is a small world after all)...

I have visited a number of churches since arriving in Laramie a couple of months ago.  In the past, I've been fortunate in that I have found a church I feel at home with within a couple of Sundays.  This has not been the case in Wyoming.  Not sure why, and, therefore, the search continues.

I returned from a season in the Antarctic 10 years ago.  One of the stories that sticks with me from that time is that of a friend from my hometown, Kristen.  Surprisingly, there were a number of people I had ties to in the Antarctic.  However, this one stands out.

The two of us recognized one another right away, but couldn't figure out where or how we knew one another.  Although Kristen had grown up in Rapid, she had moved to Arizona when she was about 10 years old.  We were the same age, but had attended different elementary schools and we were thus at a loss as to how we knew one another.

After several weeks of trying to figure this out, it finally dawned on me.  We were in the same kindergarten class and had transferred to different elementary schools shortly thereafter.  Not only had we been in the same class, we carpooled to class together...and had not seen each other in the 25 years since.

Small world.

This past Sunday, I attended two separate church services.  The first one went by more or less uneventful and after service I made my way to a nearby church for a second service.  As I was waiting for service to begin, a married couple happened to sit down next to me.

I froze for a moment when I made eye-contact with the husband...and nearly laughed out loud when the wife looked up.  Dale and Elli are neighbors of mine from my childhood and, unbeknownst to me, were in town for the week.

It is indeed a small world.

Aspen Alley...

This is a follow-up to my previous post.  Last weekend, I ventured into Aspen Alley and was inspired by scenes words and images can scarcely describe.

Enjoy.

Leaf Peeping...

Fall colors are in full swing.  Yesterday, several friends and I ventured deep into the southern ranges of the state in search of autumn foliage.  We left early morn and returned late afternoon.  The sky was overcast and the air crisp.  The leaves were brilliant.

Jeff, a new found local friend, had invited me to tag along for the day with his wife and kids...and a young lady.  Yes, my friends, I was set up once again.

Truth be told, this was not our first encounter.  We have been talking and spending time together for several weeks now.  I have not purposely been keeping a tight lid on this, there's just not much to tell.  I have been busy enough with work (see posts from the previous month) that there really hasn't been much time to spend with one another.

She's nice, smart, and very attractive...but I'm not sure anything will develop from this.  Such is life.  But we had fun.

One of the places we journeyed to is a tucked-away hidden corridor known locally as "Aspen Alley".  The Maker's paintbrush had been put to full use as the golden glow of the wooden canvas was a spectacle words and language cannot adequately describe.  To refer to this framed dirt track as stunning is an understatement.

There are places I travel where I wonder aloud if I should ever capture a moment once again.  This is one of those times.