Good Golly, Miss Molly

 This weekend, Hugh had a meeting in Denver, so I decided to tag along. While he was in the meeting, I met up with my sister, Barbie for a fun morning exploring downtown.

Our first stop was The Carriage House, for a cup of coffee and a pastry. I had a pistachio and cardamom latte that was truly the best latte I have ever tasted; it was flavorful without being overly sweet, and the spice of the cardamom was perfectly balanced. I also had an orange poppy seed scone, but it was nothing to write home about, too dense and dry. The orange glaze was the best part, but you can't live on glaze alone. Barbie had an almond croissant, which she really enjoyed, so I just picked the wrong pastry that day. No harm, no foul, and The Carriage House's ambiance more than made up for it. I am a nerd for historic homes, and the Tears-McFarlane House, where the coffee shop is located, is absolutely stunning. Barbie and I took our coffee on the front portico, and it was like stepping back in time. So much fun.

After coffee, we had tickets to the 10:00 tour of the Molly Brown House. Barbie had been there years earlier for a tea party, but it was my first time visiting the museum, and it didn't disappoint.

The house itself is impressive, but learning the true life story of "the Unsinkable Molly Brown" was the best part. The story of Margaret Tobin Brown was so distorted over time; it's crazy. For one thing: she never went by Molly. Not ever. Movie producers and media people made that up; if she had a nickname at all, it would have been Maggie, given her Irish roots.

People also wrongly believed she was uneducated and not very bright, and that she was somehow vulgar and lacked class because she and her husband, JJ Brown, came into their money rather than being born into it. None of these things were true in the slightest; the woman spoke four languages fluently, moved through Denver society with grace, navigated East Coast society without a second thought, and was the foremost fundraiser of her time. She was also instrumental in the suffragist movement and played a pivotal role in securing women's right to vote.

Nothing about the woman was crass or stupid.

From everything our tour guide told us, she also threw kickass parties, including seances, despite being a devout Catholic.

The house was decorated for Halloween during our tour, which, as we all know, I appreciated.

We loved the tour, but the best part was getting to spend some quality time with my sister; we don't get to do that very often and I am hoping that will change once my hardware store duties end, hopefully very, very soon.

After the tour, we hit a couple of thrift stores while Hugh finished his meeting, then we all had lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant before Hugh and I got back on the road to Petticoat Junction.

It was a nice little break, but of course we were excited to get home, since Queen B is still with us and we are trying to squeeze in as much time with her as possible before she flies back to Texas.

The last two weeks, since the Goose was born, and I have been flexing time off from Not So New Job have been lovely. It gives me high hopes for retirement, not gonna lie.

The Adult Version of Playing in the Backyard

Since moving to Texas, Queen B has missed the changing seasons in Colorado, so yesterday we loaded up the Tahoe and made a quick trip south over the Million Dollar Highway to the historic mining town of Silverton.

The leaves were in full color and the day was warm and sunny, which was a nice departure from the rain that we experienced throughout September (not complaining; we desperately needed the moisture).

We took our time on the drive, stopping at several pullouts for photos and to explore the various structures left over from the area's mining history. We weren't alone; the highway was swarming with out-of-state tourists enjoying the show.

Just outside of Silverton, we spotted a family of moose dining on pond moss, so we pulled over for pictures. Trust me when I say it did not take long for flatlanders to realize what we were doing and join us, which led to us overhearing some, um, interesting conversations about our wildlife, including a woman who asked her travel companion if the moose were eating fish. 

Um, no, ma'am. Moose are herbivores. Also, deer do not eventually turn into elk, in case you were wondering, like another woman was.

Not even kidding.

Anyhoodle, it was really cool to see the moose, and we managed to get a few good pictures despite the distance between us (unlike tourists in some national parks, we know better than to approach wildlife).

In an interesting coincidence, Queen B and I had been lamenting that we could no longer find our favorite flavors of Laffy Taffy. Not in Texas, not in Hooterville. We did, however, find them in the gas station outside of Silverton. 

We stocked up, as one does.

With our snack secured, we headed into Silverton proper, where our first stop was a turquoise shop that Hugh has frequented for holiday gifts for the women in his life (Queen B collects blue turquoise, I have an affinity for White Buffalo turquoise, and Shanti loves opals). We each got a new piece (Day-trip Hugh is super generous) and then set out to explore the rest of the shops in town before grabbing lunch at one of the restaurants. 

Several restaurants had already closed for the season, but we found a seat at Natalia's, a family-owned restaurant in a building that used to be a brothel, which isn't that unusual, given that there were at least three others (miners needed a distraction from mining, apparently). The chicken and rice soup was really, really good, and Queen B got an elk burger, which was an item on her Colorado wish list.

After lunch, we drove back home, stopping in Ouray for ice cream at a new shop on Main Street. The store was adorable, and the ice cream float I had hit the spot.

We made it back to Hooterville just in time to join Shanti and the Man-Cub for Shanti's birthday dinner. Then I met Mom at the community theater for a production of The Trials of Alferd Packer, an ironic way to end a day spent exploring a historic mining town.

Life is funny like that.