Still decorating

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I don’t know why I want to spend time customizing the perfect design and images for this blog, when I expect few visitors.  I guess it’s a creative outlet, something that I can take pride in.  Other than that, part of me thinks it’s an utter waste of valuable spare time.  I’ve got a list of dozens of minor style tweaks I want to make, as well as re-doing the top banner image.

I want the top banner to be the image that speaks a thousand words about me.  I have such varied interests and plan to write about everything ranging from hiking to music to programming.  While I have some ideas, I’m not sure yet how to integrate all of that into an image.  My Photoshop skills are rusty and will add to the time this will take.

Patience is in order.  I don’t have to do it all at once.

Fake Plastic Trees, Part 1

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A cell tower is finally coming to town.  It’s to be disguised as a huger than huge pine tree.  This will be the first in a series of posts documenting the construction.

Based on seeing some other disguised cell towers, I often think I’d rather see just a plain cell tower rather than a freaky looking man-made tree, which draws my attention more than a plain tower would.

The view from the road.  This will be a large tree, taller than any other tree in the surrounding area.

Fake branches will attach to the pegs on the sides of the “trunk”.

The green branches you see piled on the ground will be attached to the “trunk” after the antennas are attached.

Click here for part 2 of this series.

Joe

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It was about 15 years ago, maybe 20, that I met Joe. I was leaving a forgettable art show opening one night at the Denver Art Museum. As I made my way back to my car, I passed this short old man wearing pointy cowboy boots and a big cowboy hat. I thought he looked quite out of place in the downtown landscape of skyscrapers. I noticed when I reached my car that he had followed a short distance behind me. He asked if I would help him. I was somewhat wary, but I heard him out.

His 20 year-old pickup truck was down at the end of the block and he needed a jump start. I walked with him back to his truck to assess the situation, his worn boots seemed permanently attached to his legs and it sounded like he was walking on wooden pegs. I determined the problem probably wasn’t his battery, but that we could give it a try anyway, so I pulled my car around and we tried to get his truck running.

After a number of tries, we agreed the problem was with the alternator. I asked him if I could drop him someplace. He said no, but proceeded to tell me he was in Denver for a mayors meeting with the governor. He asked me if I had ever heard of the small town of San Luis. I said yes, but I had never visited. Joe was the mayor of San Luis and also the owner of a saloon. His wife, Emma, had a restaurant next door. He appreciated my help and said if I was ever in San Luis to stop by the saloon and he’d buy me a beer.

I never forgot that old character and our meeting in the middle of downtown. It was always in the back of my mind to get down to San Luis to collect my beer. San Luis is about 6-7 hours from where I live, not exactly someplace you can just go visit in a day.

The years went by.

Last September I had the opportunity to get down there. I didn’t have any expectation of actually meeting Joe. I figured he was long in the grave and felt guilty for waiting so long. But I did find his saloon, the front door padlocked. Emma’s restaurant next door looked like it had seen some more recent activity, but boxes were stacked on the tables which still had salt and pepper shakers on them. It looked as though the place was being packed up.

Joe’s Saloon

Emma’s Hacienda